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azullumi · 2 months ago

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WHERE WE LIE ON THE EDGE OF SUMMER !!

premise— you didn’t think that being neighbors and childhood friends with scaramouche would come with many things. for one, you have a sassy loser pathetically in love with you. content tags & warning — pairing: scaramouche (w/ gender-neutral reader) | modern!au, childhood friends, puppy love, scaramouche can’t skip stones, secret pining (for scaramouche), scaramouche words of reassurance and act of service advocate, fluff, word vomit, unspoken confessions | wc: 4.8k ; one-shot

notes from a jellyfish — (repost) first fic for the eat your heart out event!! nearly lost my mind writing this, but enjoy!!

SCARAMOUCHE is a liar.

No truths spill from his mouth, that much is certain.

He could never understand how poets write the beauty of a single sway of grass in the wind nor see how artists condense a single moment into a small stroke of a brush and find it breathtaking when it will all be bound to rot, but he tells others that he does anyway because he is a liar.

His words would bloom withered in his mouth, a shameful garden of ache, and the petals would never feel the lingering warmth in his lips.

But he never liked the heat, the suffocating warmth, always preferring the winter cold. But it was summer when he first met you and he remembers your laughter as you threw pebbles across the water, your smile gently shaped by the warm sun.

i. standing in between here and there

“Are you okay?”

There was only a grimace of annoyance on his face when you turned to briefly look at him.

It was summer once more and Scaramouche dreaded summer more than anyone could, much more so now that he’s spending this hot day with a stranger—a child of his aunt’s friend, who is also their neighbor. The combination of sitting under all this heat and being forced to get along with someone he doesn't know is deadly. He can't even remember what their name was. Perhaps they had uttered it once only for it to be lost among the pebbled path or to be drowned in the river.

He raises his eyebrow at you, “Is it not obvious enough?”

“What’s with this sassy lost child? Jeez.” You mumble more words underneath your breath, something along the lines of him being grumpy. The summer breeze brushes across your skin as you stare at the river, contemplating. Perhaps you were debating if this stone will reach farther than the frog who jumped across just now, or maybe you’re just thinking of the boy—who your mother had asked you to get along with—sitting silently on the grass behind you since earlier.

You throw one stone over the water. It bounces once and twice, the surface responding with small ripples, sliding across before eventually sinking. You do this many times and he watches you every single time, eyes seemingly unable to look away. But curiosity is a hungry monster that consumed him, so he speaks to rid of the itch that claws at his throat:

“What are you doing?”

“Stone skipping,” you paused, witnessing the stone jump only once before reuniting with its old friends at the bottom of the river, “wanna try?” You blink at him, waiting for his answer. There was silence then came a grumble. He stood up from his seat with an expression that makes it seem like you forced him to do so.

You handed the boy a pebble, but he had to stare at it for a few seconds before he took it from your hand. You waited with an expectant gaze, your mind somehow anticipating that he’ll do better than you—Scaramouche looks like he’s good at everything that he does.

Oh, but how your expectations came crumbling down the way your breakfast cookie fell into your glass of milk.

“Go on, throw it.” You had told him and you didn’t know that he was that much of an obedient child because he really did throw it. Just not aimed at the water. He threw it like how one would pass a ball to a friend; his stone didn’t even graze nor come near the surface of the water.

But Scaramouche had the same perseverance of a rock against the wind. He picked up a pebble and threw it once more; this time, it is now aimed at the water but it only went straight ahead, sinking slowly to the bottom.

You don’t think you’re in the right time to say anything, so you just stood still and watched the struggle of a young boy who had a small stone in his hand, with the occasional rustling of leaves as the breeze passes and with the sound of a splash prodding at the silence that envelops you like a familiar companion. You wanted to go and teach him how he’s supposed to do it, that there is a certain angle that he has to reach and he’s not supposed to throw it just as it is, but your mind seems to tell you not to so you didn’t. It’s all quite a spectacular watch, after all, it was as if you were watching your favorite show at 7 PM after waiting hours for it to go on air.

No matter how many times Scaramouche tries to throw and make the pebble bounce across the river, it always just sinks the first time it comes into contact with the surface. He’s silent, but the frustration is evident in the scrunch of his eyebrows and the increasing aggression in his movements.

“Oh, wow, you’re terrible at this.” You were the first to break the silence—your words seem to have stabbed his unyielding spirit as he groaned and just went back to where he was sitting. An act of surrender after struggling for so long.

”You don’t want to try again?”

“Why should I?” The pebble will only sink anyway. What’s the point of doing something when you know you’ll fail in the end?

“Come on, just try it once more.” But you were a stubborn one and Scaramouche doesn’t have much of a choice, not when you’re already right in front of him, taking his hands into yours and pulling for him to stand up. You drag him back to where he was earlier, still holding one of his hands even as you pick up a pebble right at your feet.

“Here, do it like this.” Your hand is warm against his, gentle, in contrast to the crumpled look on his face. You guide him, saying words that he can’t process that much as he’s way too focused trying to fan the flames that danced across his cheeks.

He throws, in the same angle and form that you have guided him into before you had stepped back to watch, holding hope that he’ll succeed this time in the same hand you held him. The stone doesn’t immediately celebrate with his other failed attempts at the bottom as it bounces against the surface.

You cheered, the sound of laughter slipping out of your lips as it seemed to tickle the insides of your mouth the more you held it in. There’s a certain feeling of warmth that washed over him when the melody rings inside his head. The roughness of the feeling, sharp in its unfamiliar edges, is akin to a huge wave that crashed into his form, but the comfort of it as it submerges him reminds him of the afternoon light shining on the floors of his home.

“It only bounced once.” He says, trying to downplay it all to get rid of the feeling that consumes him.

“But it did. That’s what matters, doesn’t it?” The feeling only seemed to grow stronger as if it’s feeding on your every word, being fuelled by your gaze, by your smile, by the sound of your voice. He tries to drown it all by thinking of other thoughts, diving into a different topic instead, and all the while, copying you as you resume your stone-skipping activities.

“Do you not get bored doing this?”

You hum, contemplating for a few seconds before you answer: “I think everything is a little more fun when you do it during summer,” you beam at him, then return your gaze back to the river before you throw, “Like this, especially when you’re doing it with someone.”

To be honest, he doesn’t even understand what you’re saying. This childlike mindset—although, for one, you and him are just a pair of children, playing beside the river, feeling the heat prickling against your skin. The bugs only grow louder in each second that passes as the afternoon slowly comes to the pass, replaced with the onset of the evening. The sky is painted with various colors mixed together but all in harmony, oranges and reds mixed with something golden, tainted with purples.

And yet, he would always ask himself, what is even nice about summer?

“I don’t know why but maybe I’m just saying that because I like summer,” you say as if you had read his mind, as if you had noticed the lingering question on his face that asks you why. “Do you like summer?”

It takes him a moment to answer, letting the orchestra of the wind against leaves, of the stone splashing against water, of the cicada’s song last longer than his silence. He could have said no, he could have disagreed with you and argued with your answer. He could have said that he despised summer for its heat and bugs. But he didn’t and that was the problem.

“I… like summer.” There are razors in his tongue as he speaks, the utterance of the sentence making him bleed internally as he bites on his words. Perhaps the hesitation in his tone betrays his words or perhaps it was the twitch of his lips paired with the contort of his forehead that made it appear as untruthful as it actually was.

Even so, you were convinced. You gleam at him, eyes bright with excitement: “Really? You don’t seem to be one to like summer.”

“I do, why would you say that?”

You shrug, “You just seem like a winter person to me.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. In fact, that was the whole truth and the actual lie was him saying that he likes summer. He still doesn’t understand himself for saying such words—maybe it’s the heat getting into his head or maybe it's the sound of your laughter that plays over and over inside his mind.

It feels like having a crush—He slaps himself mentally at the notion.

“We should always spend summer together then.” You’ll say, watching a pebble bounce across until it reaches the other side. A feat you have only achieved twice—the second time being this moment. You silently rejoiced for your success, clenching your hand into a fist.

He responds, “So we could just watch stones bounce on water the whole time?” and this made you chuckle before you refute: “Unless you want to, but there are tons of other things to do during summer.”

This went on and on: you, just listing out whatever activities you could do and saying whatever, and him, who listens to every word you say and would give you short responses. It is not until dusk had ended and the evening came, and now, you’re standing by the doorway, saying your goodbyes to the boy who’s terrible at stone-skipping.

“You don’t even know my name, do you?”

“I do.”

You laugh, “Liar.”

ii. take a step closer, won’t you?

Summer came to visit like an old friend you had known for years.

It’s a fleeting companion, a familiar stranger bound to disappear, gone as the wind carries your scent. The sun kisses your skin very delicately, the grass will hold your being as if you were its own child, and you will miss its embrace the moment it slips out of your hands quietly. But there’s a strange comfort welling up in your heart knowing that you will feel it once more in time and you won’t have to spend a lifetime missing it—or him.

“What are you being so slow for?” The dark-haired man stops from his track and turns to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips formed into a frown. “The sun will set before we even reach the river.” It’s the mayor of complaintown, throwing his usual complaints at you. You could only roll your eyes before you run to him, catching up to his pace before the two of you resume walking.

Scaramouche, somehow, kept his promise. Although it’s not exactly a promise because the two of you didn’t make any, he did keep his word of spending every summer with you. And right now, you’re in the middle of walking through the forest near your home—an adventure, you may say, despite the fact that you have taken this path multiple times already and you’re just returning to the place where the two of you usually spend your moments under the summer sun.

The gentle murmurs of the rushing water reach your ears, eventually getting louder as the two of you draw close to your destination. Not sooner than later, a familiar scene comes into view: the small river—a stream, to be exact—in all its glory displayed before you, a path of water stretching from here to there across your line of vision, carrying memories of when the two of you played around it.

There’s a small smile embedded on your lips. It’s the thought that it's only the two of you that knows of this place that makes you warm—it’s like a secret place for you and him.

You come close to the body of water, crouching down, staring at your rather unclear image by the water, and making out the contours and edges of your face. You try to reach out to your reflection, disturbing the surface with the tip of your fingertips, and you watch as it ripples underneath your hand. Although you’re way too focused on whatever you are doing that you forgot the existence of the boy who came here with you.

“Are you just planning on staring at the water all day long?” Scaramouche says as he crouches down beside you. He speaks as if he didn’t spend his time staring at you, admiring the way the sun holds you in its embrace, while thinking that he could just look at you for hours without getting bored.

You hum, “I really don’t know what else to do now,” you draw something on the water, the surface coming in creases.

“I thought you said there are a lot of things to do in the summer.”

“Yeah, but we already did nearly all of them.” You grumble, turning to look at him with a troubled expression. Indigo orbs meet yours in a gentle gaze; Scaramouche’s gaze, tender and soft, doesn’t often match the harsh bite of his words. It leaves you wondering, confused, if this is just his way of showing that he cares or if there’s something more. But you don’t like thinking about it—fools base their thoughts on foolish assumptions, and you are no fool.

If only you know what festers underneath his skin. Looking at you like this, honey light against your skin, he thinks you’re beautiful—the word isn’t even enough to capture the essence of your being. The world seemingly held its breath for this moment as everything came to a still except for the wind that brushes against your face. He is foolishly and utterly starstruck by the existence of you, as if you were meant to be in this place, to experience this small, fleeting moments with him, to be bathed under sunlight, to breath in the air of your surrounding, the feel the coldness of water against your feet—to live.

There's you and his mere image being reflected by your eyes, and he tries to see into the waters of your gaze for something that is akin to the just adoration he holds for you, hoping that you hold him under the same light too. He may speak of words that hold no meaning, no truth, but his feelings for you are intense and unwavering that it consumes him. Won’t you pull him a little closer?

You break the stillness, your surroundings seemingly coming back to life with the sound of your voice: “What are you thinking now?”

“Just how stupid you look.” The boy answers. Liar.

You acted as if you were offended by his statement, letting out a gasp and even placing your hand over your chest to show that you were quote on quote, hurt. He only rolls his eyes at your performance.

You jest, “Why are you so grumpy? Do you just hate being with me?”

“Stop assuming things, I didn’t say anything like that.” His attention is now to the river, watching as the stream flows and as the rocks remain unmoving.

You grab this moment to take advantage of his vulnerability and inattention. Snickering, you scoop a handful of water before splashing it to him, drenching him in the process. At the sight, laughter bubbles from your throat—he reminded you of a wet chick.

“So we're playing this game?”

“You started it.” You grin, splashing him once more but this time, he was able to shield himself from your attack.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Cold!” You exclaim as he repays you the favor.

It became a battle between you two. You’ll splash him with a handful and he’ll only retaliate after like two or three of your attacks, and even so, he’ll only fight back with only so little. Nevertheless, water drips from your head, down to your face and he, too, is left there on the side of the river with you, completely drenched and with his clothes sticking to his skin. His gaze is on you and yours are on him, and the two of you break into laughter—you think you’ll remember the sound of yours and his tangled together forever.

For a moment, it felt like the two of you were children once more.

“Ah, now we’re both wet.”

Scaramouche flicks your forehead, earning a groan from you. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours, duh.” You sneeze as soon as you finish your sentence. Scaramouche doesn’t fail to notice you tremble, hugging your knees close to your chest as if to quell the growing chill.

He abruptly stands up, and you watch him as heads over to where his bag is. He’s been carrying that since earlier and you’ve been curious as to what it contains—you didn’t get the chance to ask him earlier but now, your question is going to be answered.

You follow after, standing and peering behind him to see the contents. Your eyes are able to make out a water bottle and some snacks—were those your favorite?—among the pile of things. Albeit you didn’t get to see anymore of it as he turned around and placed something on top of your head, obscuring your vision.

You realized it was a towel when he started to gently rub your hair and the side of your face with it, drying you with the soft fabric.

“I didn’t know you had that much prepared.” You comment, letting him seemingly take care of you. Sometimes, it feels like you’re indebted to him with how much he looks after and cares for you. It feels unfair; you take so much from him and he never takes anything from you. He never lets himself indulge, settling on here and there, but never by you. You wish he would come close, he wishes you’ll hold him closer.

“I think we’re going to get sick after this.” You ask with worry lacing your tone; the water was cold and none of you brought any spare clothes, save for the towel he had prepared. And while he’s the one who got drenched the most, he’s here, focusing on you instead.

(You’ll always find yourself being bathed underneath all of his attention, whether you notice his gaze or not.)

“You’re the only one getting sick between the both of us.” He answers, draping the towel all over your shoulders before he goes and takes out a smaller towel to dry himself. There’s a small pout on your face when you hear his words—you can’t say anything in retort.

“Are we going home now?”

“If you want to, that is.”

The sun is already setting and darkness is slowly creeping into the day as time passes. Your surroundings are dyed with a warm golden, fading into blue. The animals that dwell in the night are revealing themselves as the ones who thrive during the day are returning to rest. Eventually, you also have to go home too. Exhaustion has seeped into you, settling into your weary bones.

“Can you carry me?”

“What? Can’t you walk on your own?”

“Oh, please, almighty Scaramouche. My legs are hurting and I’m tired.” Your hands are clasped together as you speak, batting your eyelashes at him.

Scaramouche could have complained a little more, dismissed your request, and walked back on his own, but he didn’t. And it’s not like he did not want to, but he just could not. How could he ever deny you? You were all that he could ask for, you were only asking him for one thing. Rejecting you at this moment was just like turning away from you—even though he knows that you’re most likely bluffing and are capable of your own.

(But, oh, he’s simply nothing without you. After all, you make up half of his soul even if he’s not even a fragment of yours.)

“You’re so troublesome.” You’re his favorite problem anyway.

Dusk is settling in the corners of the forest, and in the midst of the trees and along with the harmony of cicadas, is you and Scaramouche. The dark-haired man carries you on his back while you keep him occupied with your chatter of whatever that comes to your mind.

And just as he notices every small thing about you, you can’t ignore the dark hue his skin is painted in:

“Your ears are red.”

He takes a few seconds, mumbling, “It’s too hot.”

(Maybe it’s summer that is warm, or maybe it’s you.)

The next day, however, Scaramouche got sick and you had to nurse him back to his health—out of worry and guilt. Although you held that fact over your head, treating it as some sort of trophy.

iii. aren’t we already close enough?

Something knocks at Scaramouche’s window.

That’s how most horror movies start, but this is no horror movie, and it doesn’t take much for him to know that it was just his neighbor trying to grab his attention.

Another knock came. He heads towards the noise, pushing the curtains aside, and immediately seeing you across in your own room, standing by your open window. Upon seeing the man, you enthusiastically wave at him.

You mouthed, even doing some hand gestures to throw your message across to him: “Do you wanna watch the stars with me?”

It seems like he didn’t understand what you were trying to say as he only stares at you with a confused expression. You sighed and gestured for him to wait, disappearing from his line of sight for a moment before returning with a pen and paper in your hand; you scribble something on it and he watches you with a curious gaze.

With your words written by ink, a few of it crossed out, it reads: Let’s go stargazing.

He mouths, “Right now?” In which you responded with a nod and a smile. Then you return to your pad in hand, turning to new page before writing:

There’s going to be a meteor shower tonight. Let’s watch it together.

Scaramouche puts down his reply on his paper that he has gotten as you were writing.

Where?

The forest has a small clearing, it’s perfect for stargazing.

Right, and why are we talking like this?

It’s more fun this way and I don’t want to wake people up.

So, do you wanna go???

Okay. Yeah.

YAY !!! I’ll meet you outside.

But just as you were about to leave, he threw his pen at your window, an attempt to grab your attention although he did end up startling you.

It’s cold.

Wear something warm.

You beam at his display of his concern and give him an ‘Okay’ sign.

A few minutes flies by and you come out, jacket in hand. A certain man, with hair as dark as midnight, greets you. He’s clad in sweatpants and an oversized shirt, layered with a jacket on top—he was dressed comfily, as if he were planning on sleeping prior to this.

“Were you planning on going to sleep?”

“I was, until you called.”

“You could have just turned me down. I don’t mind watching the meteor shower alone.” You feel guilt rising in your chest, looking down at the ground you were rooted on. Thoughts whirl like a hurricane, creating a vortex of doubt that wreaks havoc inside your head. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, feeling all of these all at once over a simple and small thing. You were the one to insist, always the first one to come barging into his door.

But somewhere between your thoughts and his own, between loving you and adoring you, he knows you in ways that no one could. You’re the only one he ever knows.

“You’re not bothering me,” Scaramouche ruffles your head, messing up your hair. He speaks in the same note of his touch, soft and gentle, and it feels foreign and familiar at the same time; you want this, you could get used to this—the small thought that remains inside your mind echoes as he dispels all of your worries with just a few of his words. “Besides, I also wanted to watch the meteor shower.” With you.

“Really?”

“Where’s the stubborn and strong person who’ll drag me out of my room every summer that I know?” He flicks your forehead, making you wince and rub the spot to ease the pain. He adds, a small smile etching into the curves of his lips, “You were the one to say that everything is better when you do it with someone.”

“Well—”

“There’s no need to worry over such useless things,” He heaves out a sigh, “If I hated you, you would have known.”

He doesn’t know what took over him to have his hand seek out your face, caressing your face so tenderly like a lover would. The dance of his fingers left a trail of warmth across your skin, blooming and spreading like fire, and maybe it was your fault or maybe it was his that your face leans closer to his touch as if desiring for more of his softness. He doesn’t fail to notice the look on your face, the fire that festers within you spreading to him.

Scaramouche is mesmerized by the miracle that is you.

He clears his throat, looking away, afraid that he’s going to be consumed by your light the more he keeps his gaze on you:

“Let’s go before we end up missing it.” His tone falters into something sweet, and his hand, too, falls into something kind—his fingers slipping into your own. You could only nod your head in response, afraid that your words would break in your tongue before you could even speak.

It doesn’t take long to reach the spot you were talking about. But it did feel like time moved slowly with the silence as neither of you let go of each other’s hand; you battled with your reasoning, thinking that it will help you walk better in the dark and not trip over anything even when you’re already familiar with the path. Or maybe it was just too cold, you don’t know; it’s not like you want to let go either.

(And in the same cadence of your thoughts, his soul whispers to you: “I don’t think I want to stop holding your hand.”)

Tonight, the stars are a witness to the wake of something foolishly beautiful. As the streaks of light fill the sky like a stroke of a painter’s brush on an empty canvas, lush grass forms into nothing as it sinks beneath your being, intertwined with his as he clutches your hand tight—the sky holds the stars as the earth bears your weight all the same. When the warm breeze leaves and when life all becomes nothing in the absence of indigo merging into golden, can you stand with him a little closer underneath the fading warm?

“Kuni.” What does his name taste like in your mouth?

“Hm?”

Scaramouche isn’t stupid, but you make him feel stupid, and he loves you stupid, like a loser stumbling over the stars in your eyes. He understands why poets write the mundane and how artists portray a fleeting moment bound to rot by time. It doesn’t take much but he spent a long time seeking comfort in the warmth to know the answer—he knew what it was when he wished you were with him to enjoy the sun.

You reside in the deeper parts of his soul, tangled in the loose threads of his being. Scaramouche prays—even when he doesn’t necessarily believe, but what is a god’s gaze for your love?—to whoever is listening that you’ll stay there forever. Can a human ever stop their heart from wanting?

“Don’t you want to go home now?” You had asked him; the meteor shower has finished and the clouds are already hiding the vast blanket of stars above you. There’s not much left in this night, just silence and a pair of people who had nothing and everything at the same time, lying on the grass as if they’re the only ones who matter in the world. He has always existed right there beside you and he has belonged to you in ways that you may never know.

“I’m still not sleepy yet.” But his mouth gapes into a yawn and you laugh.

“Liar.”

Call him whatever you want, he just wants to stay with you a little longer.

Scaramouche may be a liar.

But he likes you, that much is certain.

taglist: @felibrary, @yunicide, @bittersweetmiko

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diejager · 11 months ago

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Oh my god imagine step-father König having to go with reader's mom to the airport (lets say it takes 2 hours)and dbf!Horangi coming to take care of her, but when he enters he sees her trying to get food and sneak in her room and lock the door or smth and he catches her lays her on the dinner table and starts eating her out till he overstims her ,but suddenly she feels smth strange and tries to push him away, he does not move and as a result she squirts for the first time. She is so embarasses poor thing but horangi is just so proud cause she did it for him the first time in her life ❤️ as a bonus how would könig react to seeing that scene coming home in that exact moment or when horangi brags?

Cw: DUB-CON/NON-CON, DARKFIC, STEPCEST, oral sex(fem!receiving), overstimulation, squirting, tell me if I missed any.

You cursed yourself for being too slow to exact your plan, holding a few bags of snacks and little sweets before locking yourself in your room, planning your day away from Horangi - who you mother made him promise to watch over her adult daughter - and your stepdad until you had to leave, but he’d suddenly grabbed you from the back of your shirt, shocking you enough for you to drop your bags in fright. He manhandled you to the kitchen table, a wide and cold surface against your warm skin, ripping your shorts in half and burying his face between your thighs.

You squirmed as much as you came, coating his face in slick and squeezing him with your trembling legs. His hot tongue pressed down on your throbbing clit, running the smoothness of the flat of his tongue over your nub, lifting the hood of your clit up and subjugating it to more pleasurable torture. Then he swirled the tip around your nub after holding the hood up with his thumb, holding you down while you jerked and twitched beneath his mouth. You cried out of oversensitivity, your bundle of nerve touched incessantly by Horangi’s tongue, feet kicking out and occasionally hitting his back.

Something gathered in your core, heavy and violent, it felt unbearable to you, an extremely tight knot coiled around another knot. It only amassed in potency, his lips wrapped snugly around your pulsing clit and he sucked, sucked hard while he filled you with his fingers. You came with a burst of light, your walls closing around his intruding fingers, pumping in and out of you at a lazy pace, curling upwards in effort to hit the inner parts of your clit. You soaked him with cum, body buzzing with energy, still riding out your orgasm with the gentle swirl of his tongue and a firm kiss on your thigh. You tiredly raised your head to peer at him, gazing down to brown eyes through a blurred and tearful sight.

Even in your numbed mind, you could see how drenched he was, His nose and cheek glistened with your slick, lips hidden by your soft mound that were to busy drinking up the cum dripping out of your hole. His eyes blazed with overwhelming passion - sacrilegious - as he gazed at you with unblinking eyes, drowning himself in the sight of your debauched figure, breasts rising with every laboured breathe you took, pebbled nipples from the colder air and skin layered with sweat. You were clueless about what happened, why you felt so sluggish yet so powered, but Horangi seemed to know seeing his proud and overjoyed smile.

“Was this your first?” He grumbled out, voice thick with something as he kissed your inner thigh.

“First what?” Your reply was slow —lethargic, in the face of his excitement. “I don’t-“

“Fuck, you’ve never squirt?” He brimmed with mirth, a dangerous amount of elation that made you feel trapped, unable to do anything but take what he decided to give.

How could you even defend yourself against someone so tall and practiced? You couldn’t even stop him from diving back in, his black eyes bright and gleeful.

“Was?” König sounded shocked from the tone of his voice, the higher pitch compared to Horangi’s softer voice, mumbling something to him once he stepped through the entrance of your house, “You made her squirt?”

Fuck, you caught the same eagerness in his tone.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce

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comet-forgot-you · 3 months ago

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could you do sam carpenter smut please?

smut. 18+ pls.

do not repost for any reason.

her coming home from the gym, pressing a kiss to your head. she hardly says anything, mumbling something about feeling so gross and how she desperately needed a shower. you groan, having not seen her almost all day due to your schedules not aligning.

minutes pass, the water turns on and you can’t get the image of sam out of your head. water droplets rolling down her tan skin, the hot water, the pump of her muscles from her workout, it wouldnt leave your head. you needed her, you needed her now.

you go to the bathroom, knocking just enough for her to hear. a muffled “come in,” comes from the other side and you open the door. the sight of sam behind fogged shower doors nearly has your knees buckling. she looks so good, so fucking good. your tongue darts across your lips, wetting them.

“can i join you?” you dont wait for a response before you’re stripping your clothes. sure, you had taken a shower not even an hour ago, but you needed sam now.

“yeah,” sam mumbles, a knowing smirk on her lips. you join her in the shower, the hot water hitting your skin, you can hardly feel it, far too focused on how good your girlfriend looked. her hands reach for your waist, pulling you in closer to her. “see something you like?” she teases when your eyes dont meet her own.

theyre taking in her figure. her toned muscles, her tits, the water rolling down her body. she looked too good not to eat. you dont respond, pushing her against the cold, tiled wall and pressing your lips against her own. she groans slightly at your splay of dominance.

your lips leave her own, trailing down her neck, to her chest, taking a pebbled nipple into your mouth. “fuck.” she huffs, fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer. you groan against her nipple, your hands moving to roam her body.

her abs flexed under your touch and she takes her bottom lip into her mouth. you drop to your knees, hoisting one of her legs over your shoulder. you press open mouthed kisses to her thigh, the muscles flexing slightly. god she was so sexy, you needed her now.

you bite down on her thigh, certain to leave a mark. she hisses at the feeling, fingers tugging at your hair. “y/n,” she warns, glaring down at you. you look up at her with innocent eyes.

“hmm?” you hum, pulling away from her thighs to meet her warm cunt. she doesnt respond, sucking in a breath when your mouth takes her swollen clit. she lets out a shaky breath, barely audible over the water.

you flatten your tongue against her clit, humming against it. sam’s grip in your hair loosens for a moment, and when you circle her entrance with your tongue, its tightening as she pulls you closer. the floor of the shower digs into your skin, but you cant seem to focus on it, your need for sam drowning it out.

“fuck!” her voice echoes off of the shower walls, your fingers pushing into her cunt. you glance up at her, her abs flexing once again. your pump your fingers in and out of her at a fast pace, your tongue working at her clit.

shes so fucking hot. she brings a hand up to cover her mouth and you hate it. you need to hear her, you need to have as much of her as you can. you tug her hand away from her mouth and sam glares down at you. “what the fuck?” shes not used to you being the more dominant one, but when she sees the way you look at her, like you want to devour her, it has her feeling some type of way.

you pull off of her cunt, licking at your lips. “i wanna hear you so bad, sam,” you plead desperately. it sends heat throughout her body.

“yeah?” she groans, bucking her hips against your fingers. you nod, free hand moving to keep her hips in place.

“so bad, sammy,” you whisper. your mouth is back on her in an instant, lapping away at her cunt. her hips strain against your arm, desperate to rut her cunt into your mouth. you glare up at her, a warning look in your eye and she lets out a high pitched moan.

your fingers fuck into her, curling every so often. her walls clamp around your fingers the closer she gets to her orgasm, her moan bouncing off of the shower walls. its hard to breathe, the water and your busy mouth restricting your breath slightly, but you dont seem to care. you need her, you need her bad.

“fuck,” she groans out, arms flexing slightly as she grips your hair. “gonna cum,” she mumbles, abs tensing. you smile against her cunt and she can feel it, a groan falling from her lips.

she lets go of your hair, moving to hold onto the handlebar for stability. your fingers curl inside of her one last time and shes coming undone, a drawn out groan falling from her lips. “fuck,” she groans out. your arm drops from her stomach and shes quick to buck against your mouth.

you pull away from her, bringing your fingers to your mouth to clean them of her orgasm. you press a kiss to her thigh the moment your fingers leave your lips, wrapping your arm around her thigh to pull it off of your shoulder. you trail kisses up her body until you reach her lips.

“you looked too good not to eat, baby,” you whisper. her breathing is heavy, eyes not sure where to look, flickering from your eyes to your lips. you smile before stepping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body.

a minute passes before sam is groaning, “you wasted all my hot water.”

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter smut #melissa berrera x reader #melissa barrera #scream 2022 smut #scream 2022 #scream smut #scream 6 #wlw smut #scream

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philistiniphagottini · 8 months ago

Text

Zenith

Jing Yuan suddenly got me in a choke hold and I just had to write something for him ahhhh, so have this while I work on other stuff :)

cw. penetrative sex, cuddle fuck, fingering (fem receiving) fem! reader, implied cubby reader, fluff, 3.9k words, MDNI

nsfw below the cut

Rain was rare on the Xianzhou Luofu. You could smell the fresh dewdrops of water when you were roused from your slumber in the early hours of the morning. Light struggled to creep through under your curtains and the soft pitter patter was tempting you to fall back to sleep and simply slumber the day away. But the warm press of your partner's body behind you coaxed you to stay in the waking world.

Large, warm, hands weathered by countless battles slipped under your night shirt, curious fingertips tracing over your soft and delicate features. A pleased hum stirred in the back of your throat as Jing Yuan’s hands squeezed your soft belly, fingers sinking into generous amounts of skin until the soft pudge spilled over. The feeling made you squirm in his grasp, your back hitting the solid wall of his muscular chest as you tried to retreat from his grabby hands. A warm chuckle breezed past his lips, his breath hot against the back of your neck when he spoke.

"Good morning, my little sparrow" Jing Yuan greeted, his voice thick and gruff against the shell of your ear.

You lay your small hands over his, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles as you tipped your head back.

"Good morning" you replied.

You stifled the loud yawn that tried to crawl out of your throat as you huddled yourself closer to Jing Yuan’s alluring warmth, your chest feeling light as he pawed at your stomach like a needy cat pining for your attention. He pressed his lips to your shoulder with a contented noise rumbling in his chest, the vibrations sending pleasant chills to creep down your spine and pool in the pit of your stomach. You rubbed your hand along his arm as he continued to knead and paw at your pliant body, another fleeting kiss pressed to your shoulder making you jolt in his grasp. His affections made the corners of your mouth twitch with a faint smile as his larger frame curled protectively around you, the heat of his skin licking at your body like the flames of an open furnace.

"You’re in a good mood this morning" you commented. "Did you have pleasant dreams?"

Jing Yuan hummed in response, rubbing himself further into your embrace as he dragged his lips across the sensitive skin on your back until every hair on the nape of your neck stood up in anticipation.

"I always have pleasant dreams with you by my side" Jing Yuan confessed, his fingers walking over your stomach as they slowly crept higher up your shirt.

A sharp gasp tumbled from your parted lips when you felt something hard press up against the fat of your ass. A lightbulb suddenly sparked in your head and everything was starting to make a lot more sense now. You shivered in delight when you felt his hands cup the swell of your breasts, squeezing the soft mounds together as his lips grazed the shell of your ear.

"Mmhmm, you’re so warm my little dove" he purred with a husky whisper of your name, cuddling further against you. “Do you mind sharing some of it with me in this cold weather?”

You leaned into his touch as he squeezed your breasts once more, expert fingers easily finding your pebbling nipples and teasing the pert tips with short tugs. You rubbed your thighs together as your core throbbed, pussy already dripping wet as your mind started to cloud with lustful thoughts. Each press of Jing Yuan’s lips against your heated skin only made the haze in your mind thicker and you struggled to think past the dense fog long enough to speak.

"Don’t you have work today?" you asked.

A salacious moan bubbled up your throat as Jing Yuan pinched the back of your neck with his teeth, playfully biting on your supple skin as his hands squeezed at your breasts. Your soft noises were almost drowned out by the rain that continued to pour outside, wet droplets spattering against the windows as the wind softly howled.

"This is more important" Jing Yuan decided.

You sighed wistfully. Damn, you couldn’t argue with that. Well, you tried. And with that, you decided to completely give in to Jing Yuan’s whims. A purr of delight rumbled in his throat when you shifted beneath him, rolling over to face him and eagerly plant your lips upon his. You placed your hands on his chest, feeling his thunderous heartbeat pulsing rhythmically against your palms as you kneaded at his pillowy chest. You weren’t the only one to be blessed with fat tits. Jing Yuan moaned as he tasted the shape of your mouth, golden eyes gleaming with elation as you kissed him slowly, savouring the taste of him melting on your tongue. His hands slipped down your waist as he intimately devoured your mouth, swallowing your soft mewls and eager moans as his hands discarded your nightwear. Even when your clothes were discarded it did little to relieve you of the stifling heat of your bodies tangling further under the sheets.

Your head felt dizzy when you parted from the kiss, a thin strand of saliva breaking when Jing Yuan swooped down and caught your lips in another passionate embrace. Your pulse pounded in your ears as you swiftly pushed down his pants, your heart racing wildly in your chest when you felt the fat head of his dripping cock slap against your stomach.

"When was the last time I indulged in you?" Jing Yuan mused as he nuzzled his nose into your soft cheek.

You hummed in thought as you drummed your fingers along his stomach, feeling the muscles flex under your touch as he pressed himself into the palm of your hand. You weren’t sure about the answer to his question. It could have been a few days ago? Perhaps a week or more? It was hard to keep track of with his hectic schedule. But there was one thing you were sure of.

"Too long" you replied.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, eyes burning like pools of molten gold as he gave you a fond smile. "Allow me to rectify that."

You squeaked as he suddenly wedged his leg between your thighs and effortlessly hoisted you further up the mattress. You tangled your hands in his wild mane of hair to hold on, your face burning with a mix of shame and arousal when your slick pussy slid across his muscular thigh. A coy smile painted the general’s lips as his hands curled around your hips, holding you steady as he peered up at you beneath long, dark lashes. He didn’t have to say a single word. His smug face said it all.

"Ass" you gently scolded.

A feline grin tugged at his lips as he nudged his face between the scorching valley of your tits, peering up at you with an innocent look.

"What have I done to deserve your ire, wifey?"

You sighed. "Nothing dear. Just keep kissing me."

You leaned down and gently pecked his lips, trailing your kisses up between his relaxed brow before kissing his forehead. You tugged on his soft hair, earning you a throaty groan as Jing Yuan dragged his bruised lips over your soft breasts, enjoying how you leaned into each touch with a shuddering breath. One hand slipped between your thighs as his mouth toyed with your plush chest, his fingers skimming along the soft insides of your thighs. You whined into his hair when his fingers ghosted across your wet slit, your pussy throbbing in response to his addictive touch.

"My, my, so wet, already flowing like a river…"

There was a witty reply rattling around somewhere in your brain but you could hardly focus when Jing Yuan was busy emptying your pretty head of every single thought. You could only whimper in response as his thumb brushed against the pretty pearl of your clit, the nerves flushing to life as heat rapidly coiled in the pit of your stomach. Your eyelashes brushed against your burning cheeks, eyes threatening to slip close against the onslaught of bliss as Jing Yuan’s fingers parted your creamy folds like a delicate flower in bloom. He knew exactly which spot to touch to render you into a speechless puddle of goo in the palm of his hand. Jing Yuan hummed into your chest, sharp teeth latching onto a rosy tip and sucking the soft bud into his warm mouth. A wet sob tore from your throat when his tongue pressed against the sensitive tip, the white-hot nerve sending a jolt of electricity crackling down your spine and making your toes curl into the soles of your feet. You buried your burning face into his hair, the familiar scent of his shampoo comforting as a thick finger sank into your fluttering hole. Your grip in his silky locks tightened, threatening to rip his hair out at the roots as he buried his finger all the way up to the knuckle in you. Your plush walls clenched around him, your pussy drooling slick into the palm of his hand as he pumped the thick digit into you. Your hips shuddered as you grind down onto his finger, pussy trying to swallow him faster as the heat inside you coiled and twisted like an untamed inferno.

"Jing Yuan…fuck" you whispered breathlessly. "Fuck, baby it feels so good."

Jing Yuan purred in content in response, a second finger teasing your opening as his thumb continued to circle your clit, drawing out your pleasure with each flick of his wrist. You hissed softly as a second finger slipped inside of you, the stretch causing a light burning sensation at the apex of your thighs as he scissored you open. Jing Yuan let go of your breast with a wet pop, cooing your name softly as he nuzzled his face into your chest.

"Shh, love. It’s okay. You’re doing so well for me, my good girl."

His words made your walls flutter around his fingers, the digits curling as the tips brushed against the soft, gummy patch inside of you that made stars waver in your vision. You struggled to keep your eyes open as your breathing wavered. Your gaze lingered on the nightstand at the other end of the bed. You reached out with your hands and tried to crawl closer. You couldn’t get far as you pushed further against Jing Yuan’s body, a pleased moan stirring deep in the back of his throat as his face was squished between your fat tits. His cock jumped between your legs, the drooling tip slapping against the soft insides of your thighs as his head was trapped in such pillowy comfort.

"Where are you going, little love?" he asked with an amused lilt to his voice.

You strained to reach the other side of the bed and with a small huff you gave up.

"Lube" you said.

Jing Yuan sighed with amusement. He removed his fingers from your slick warmth, your pussy clenching around nothing and mourning the loss of feeling full as your husband reached for the bottle of lube in his nightstand. You gently pet his hair, teasing out the tangles you had caused as the drawer to his nightstand shut with a dull thud. Without tearing his gaze away from your sumptuous body, Jing Yuan popped the lid of the small bottle and let some of the contents pour onto his fingers. He made sure they were generously coated before his hand reached back between your sticky thighs. You tipped your head back with a sweet moan when two fingers pushed back into you with little resistance, the lube lathering your pussy until pearls of it were creating rivulets down the insides of your plush thighs. Jing Yuan placed a soft kiss on the swell of your breasts as he smiled lazily up at you.

"Does that feel good, pretty girl?"

You nodded, teeth nibbling at your lips as soft mewls clawed their way out of the back of your throat. You scratched your nails along the nape of his neck, the heat in your stomach burning brightly with a renewed fire as you rocked your hips along to the probe of his fingers. His free hand curled around your waist to rest on the beautiful dip of your back, pushing against it and urging you to press closer and be smothered by the heat of his scorching skin. You whined softly; lips pressed into his hair as your entire body trembled with longing.

"Jing Yuan, put it inside me" you softly begged.

"Now?" he teased.

You nodded, fingers curling around the baby hairs on the back of his neck and desperately tugging. "Yes now."

"And what was it that you needed?"

You sighed sharply. The fierce rain outside had nothing on the fierce storm that was currently brewing inside of you. Your hands slipped around Jing Yuan’s handsome face to cup his cheeks. You tilted his head back, your forehead pressed against his as you stared down at him. His cat like smirk was present as he stared back into your dazed eyes, patiently waiting for you to peel your tongue off the roof of your mouth to form a coherent response.

"Cock. In. Me. Now."

He grinned. "Anything for you, my sparrow."

His fingers slipped out of you once more and you didn’t mourn the loss this time, anticipating what was to come. Jing Yuan’s slicked hand dropped to his swollen length, fingers wrapping around hardened warmth. His jaw tensed as he hissed through clenched teeth, moaning softly as he roughly pumped his cock a few times to spread a combination of lube and your arousal along the length. Once he was adequately slicked up, he started to lower you, the head of his cock brushing against your silky lips. You both shared a moan, his grip on your body tightening as he guided the tip of his cock to catch on your sopping entrance. He nuzzled his cheek against yours, words so soft that you almost didn’t hear it over the drizzling rain.

"Take a deep breath for me, sweet girl."

You took a deep breath just as he started pushing forward, his cock piercing your centre. Your arms immediately coiled around his neck to hold yourself steady, stretching around his thick girth. He was stretching you with such dizzying ease your arms started to tremble, a constellation of tears clinging to the corners of your lashes as the feeling of him finally filling you made you ache. Your nails scratched along his back, his spine curving in delight as you left behind angry, red welts in his flesh, marks he would wear proudly and think fondly of. Your lungs pinched in your chest as Jing Yuan slung your leg over his hip, helping him to penetrate you deeper until you were completely stuffed full of him. His lips were a soothing balm against your skin as he kissed you, your face now tucked into the crook of his neck as he sheathed his cock into your pussy.

"Are you okay little dove?" Jing Yuan asked, voice laced with concern.

You nodded gently, arms squeezing around his thick neck as your tears of bliss wet his skin. Aeons, you didn’t realise how much you needed him until he was one with you like this. His cock completely crowded your poor pussy, every thick vein lining his girth steadily pulsing inside your soused walls and sending your mind reeling from the overwhelming pleasure. Your stomach bunched itself into tight knots as Jing Yuan placed his warm hands on your hips, his lips kissing the crown of your head as he buried his nose in your hair. He took a deep breath, your intoxicating scent curling deep in the pit of his lungs and making his blood simmer hotly in his veins. He nudged his hips forward, teasing his cock a little deeper into your plush walls until you cried out.

He started to move slowly, the pace of his hips moving with no sense of urgency as he repeatedly buried his cock into your pussy over and over again. Your arms tensed around his neck as you panted into the crook of his neck, his skin boiling against yours as he rocked his hips into you. A warm purr rumbled in his chest as your tongue tasted the perspiration clinging to his skin, lips sucking on his Adam’s apple as your senses started to spin out of control. You could feel his cock moving intimately beneath your skin, your eyes catching a glimpse of the cute bump forming in your soft belly every time you looked down to see where your bodies were joined in fervid rapture. Jing Yuan’s lips brushed against your forehead as he softly cooed, hands squeezing at the scruff of your ass as he yanked you closer, your soft cries muffled into his skin as he bounced you along his cock.

"You’re making such sweet noises for me" Jing Yuan praised. "Am I making you feel good?"

"So good" you moaned, softly slurring your words.

You could barely hold onto the fraying edges of your sanity. Every white-hot nerve in your body was shocking you like a live wire as the pressure in your stomach grew rapidly, your eyes rolling into the back of your head every time Jing Yuan massaged his cock against your soft walls. You could feel the drooling head of his cock fill your belly with sticky warmth, the fat head smothered against your cervix and aching to release. Your heart felt like it was stuck in your throat as your plush walls started to flutter, desperately trying to swallow Jing Yuan whole as your body teetered on the brink. Your toes curled as you dug your foot into his thigh, trying to drag him closer which was impossible with how tightly you were both already pressed to each other. He kissed your cheek sweetly, his golden gaze catching your teary eyes.

"Is my pretty little song bird going to cum now?"

A soft noise rumbled in your chest as you nodded along dumbly. You moaned harshly as Jing Yuan jammed his thumb against the hood of your clit, rubbing the nerve in tight circles as he pressed his lips to the shell of your ear, tongue tracing the curve of your lobe as his hot breath tickled your skin.

"Then make a mess for your general."

You screamed so loud you were sure that not even the crack of thunder was able to drown it out. The coil inside of you snapped as you screamed with rapture, your veins flooded with white hot relief as fireworks exploded in your stomach. Jing Yuan growled as your pussy squeezed him so tight he thought you were going to strangle him, his boiling cock twitching as your juices gushed around him. You stained his thighs and abdomen with thin threads of translucent fluid as you continued to whine with bliss. He worked you through your pleasure high, drawing out every single drop of your bliss before he allowed himself to finally give in and have the delight of filling your womb with his viscous seed. His hips shuddered as he grew still inside of you, his cock kicking as he painted your insides with thick ropes of white.

You whimpered softly as the heat blossomed across your abdomen, the feeling of his seed filling you to the brim causing the pleasure to mount rapidly in you once more. You twisted in his hold as he dragged his lips across your jaw, keeping you firmly planted on his cock as the pleasure threatened to take hold of you once more.

"Yuan, gonna cum again" you mewled softly.

Jing Yuan hummed in response, tongue briefly dipping past your bruised lips as he tasted the sweetness of your mouth. He smiled softly.

"It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe. Let go."

Another searing burst of his thick seed pumping into your overly stuffed pussy made your eyes roll so hard into the back of your head you thought your skull was going to explode. Amidst the overwhelming heat you felt your body tip over the edge again into the gaping maw of oblivion, coil in your stomach unfurling as your pussy squeezed his cock snug. Jing Yuan purred like a contented cat on a lazy afternoon as you writhed so deliciously for him, your reactions so endearing to him that he only wished to keep indulging in everything you had to offer like the filthy beggar he was.

The sheets between your bodies were completely soaked by your own fluids, your second orgasm still running rampant through your system as your head refused to come down from the clouds just yet. Jing Yuan pressed his lips into your clammy skin over and over again, whispering praises and reassurances until his voice melted into your ears like warm honey. Your body felt incredibly warm and light as you cuddled into the general, your heart slowly settling back inside your chest as you tried to regain control of your frantic breaths. Jing Yuan massaged his hands along your sore hips, rubbing soothing circles into your soft skin as he pinched the fat of your thighs between the gaps of his fingers.

He gently coaxed you onto your back as he removed his softening cock with a loud and wet pop. His stare lingered on the apex of your thighs, watching his thick cum leaking from your overstimulated pussy and cascade down your legs like a flowing river. The sight of your round belly so full of him only stirred his appetite once more. He hadn’t indulged in you enough yet. He pressed his nose into the soft pudge of your stomach as he nestled himself comfortably between your parted thighs, readying himself to descend on his favourite place of worship. The smell of your arousal was making his mouth water.

"You look so beautiful, little dove" Jing Yuan cooed as he rubbed his hands along your thighs. "I could just eat you up."

You hummed in content as you stretched your arms high over your head, grabbing onto the fluffy pillow that supported your head as Jing Yuan’s mouth descended between your legs. You noticed that the rain outside had finally decided to taper off, rays of sunshine trying to pierce through the dark clouds. A thoughtful noise rumbled in your chest when you glanced at the time.

"What about breakfast?"

"My meal is right here" Jing Yuan replied, fingers pushing against your puffy folds until your sex opened up and prompted another thick trickle of his seed to gush out of the hole he had been so passionately fucking.

You snorted softly with laughter, your chuckles turning into soft moans as Jing Yuan dragged his tongue through your creamy folds and tasted your sweet nectar.

"Fu Xuan is gonna be cranky when she finds out you’re shirking your duties~"

You squealed when Jing Yuan sank his teeth into the fat of your thigh, growling playfully before letting go of your skin. A cheeky smile tugged at his shining lips before he blew cool air against your twitching clit, coaxing the small bud to flush back to life.

"Let her be. Spending time with you is much more important" Jing Yuan replied.

You sighed wistfully. "Okay. I’ll send her a text that you’re too busy knuckle deep in my pussy to come in to work today."

Jing Yuan scoffed. "How scandalous. Do it" he said before promptly stuffing his mouth with your gorgeous pussy.

#my writing #honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan smut #jing yuan x reader #fem!reader #x reader #nsft

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sandsorghum · 3 months ago

Text

Clouds & Curtains

husband!Nanami x wife!reader

wc. 1.3k

summary. Perhaps Nanami's approach to...rousing you in the mornings has changed over the years.

tags. Established relationship, Domestic bliss | Romance | Smut | Body (& Soul)Worship | Mentions of Nanami wanting to be a father

a/n: Super soft, super indulgent piece. Have your cake and eat it nanami girlies. Sometimes i just need to write him a love letter ok

Prologue

Back when you'd just begun to be intimate with each other, Nanami tended to be a little embarrassed about his subconscious (but hardly subtle) desires for you. He would rather suffer his internal, infernal dilemma than disrupt your rest. But he couldn't quite control his urges, squirming between decency and depravity, not when you'd rub up against him, so innocuous and merciless.

It was a hard habit to shake; how Nanami felt he ought to earn your every quiver against him, every whimper, however much he yearned to feel you tremble at his moans at any given moment. It was codified in him, there was a time and a place and patterns to follow, before he could permit himself the pursuit of your shared pleasures.

Of course, you'd unveil him in the evenings, the privilege of your touch stripping bare the prerogatives of his flesh. You unraveled him, his reticence, his reasoning, his very capacity for speech, by braiding your breath and fingers with his, in the friction-begetting-friction tangle of your lips and limbs together.

Yet he still thinks of these mornings, that find the two of you entwined, as an undeserved luxury. So Nanami would do his best instead to focus on your face, how sweet your peaceful expression was. It would be wicked of him not to cherish this, he'd chastise himself for wanting more, for wanting to drown in your adoring gaze, for wanting to return it with his own hungry one, body and spirit beggared by the night, by the hours not spent beheld by you.

Nanami assumed the beauty and tenderness of your countenance would quell, or could sate his appetites, would tame the primal stirrings in his belly. But nothing could be further from the truth, in fact they had the opposite, compounding effect; a lump in his throat would rise, and his desperation would thicken till he could only helplessly rut his hips against you.

And then your eyelids would flutter open, and in the crease of your knowing smile, all his definitions, his distinctions, all that distance between need and greed would collapse with a single kiss.

Years later, and your husband is so absolutely shameless about his...early head starts to the day. He pulls you into him, snug against the cleft of your ass cheeks, content to let your scent and radiance seep through the thin fabric and warm him in a way the sun, in its reluctance behind the clouds and curtains, can never hope to.

He stares at the petulance drooping off the petals of your lips, rose bud coiled tight before daybreak can coax it to unfurl for strobes of gold. Nanami is a patient man, too patient you've often thought, yet you feel his phantom touch, a tender sweep of your mouth, a zephyr whispering in the wings, billowing brocade and swelling muslin, ghost pulling you through the gauze of sleep.

You shift against Nanami to hear him sigh your name, soft and distant, thick with slumber and affection and it's this which rouses you more, not merely his growing rigidity pressed to the curves of you. Although, it helps, feeling every inch of his hunger like this, in a slow swirl and pinch at your waist, the gentlest rocking as your breasts are cradled in his palms, familiar persuasion pebbling your areola. You know he dreams of them swollen with milk, that all your memories of his teeth are girded by the desire for them to be suckled by the most innocent of mouths, baring only gums and tiny wails. Your nubs stiffen and a small smile stretches across your face at the thought that with his wish to grow a family fulfilled, he might find also a small regret, of his monopoly of your mounds contested by another, to whom he owes the genesis of your body's generosity, that sweet fullness dribbling, stolen, into your husband's mouth, enticing in its envy.

This prospect of hypocrisy is to be savoured for another day, far down the road. This morning brings neither hesitation nor urgency, all syrupy light and his maple gaze, the languor of his limbs splayed around you to be treasured just as much as the gradual grind of his cock. There's a certain smugness in its slowness, as with the self-assuredness of his thumb circling a bare sliver of your skin.

A familiar motion that stirs a memory, fuchsia-tinted for the both of you. You remember your then boyfriend stammering and scarlet-tipped, matched to the rosy tips of his ears, excuses lost in the shuffle of sheets and stutter of hips.

"I-it's just-just the t-temp-ah-temperatuur," he'd slurred, the excuse as thin and transparent as the sticky film he laved across your throat, dangerously growing gossamer and feebler with every twitch and each strong buck against your body.

"Mmhmm," you'd hum, carnal ache turning you conciliatory. Such complacency. You had been the one to smirk back then, canines gleaming coy, as you offered ruin in the guise of reprieve.

"Want me to warm you up, darling?" Hands already reaching for him, mind already marveling before your fingers could be reacquainted with their hubris, his girth.

"P-please, anythin-nghing" he'd panted, all wide-eyed desperation to be devoured, sweet thing.

You'd been such a fool.

To not know not greed was a two-way street, this ravenous osmosis, this vicious ouroborous.

You think perhaps, in fact, you got the worse end of the deal, trembling against your spouse now, thighs clamped together.

"My dear," Nanami hums, a teasing timbre dripping honey as he sinks his fingers in, "always so ready for me."

You squirm, eyes screwed shut and fisting the sheets, trying to grasp the pale image of the boy who'd once writhed and blushed beneath you, a spectre all but vanquished. You miss him, sometimes.

You arch your back into Nanami, the way you know he's addicted to, just to hear him groan your name, ragged with the dregs of self-restraint or slumber, you're not sure which, but it's a close enough echo to send pleasure juddering through you, the recollection churning hot in your gut, of when he was wrapped around your finger, instead of your cunt around his.

"Sweetheart."

The tenderness of his tone pries your lids open. He doesn't have to ask, doesn't have to say anything but he does, because he knows you are too stubborn to ask for what you need to hear.

"My love."

He claims your gasp, in the crush and curl of his mouth, in the crook of his fingers.

"My girl."

Another smattering of kisses, chasing the flutters of your belly down, down, down to your creases weeping nectar. He licks a whine from you, pitching high into the air, his husky moan vibrating within you.

"My wife."

You feel the hot gust of Nanami's breath over your clit, as he pauses.

"My wife."

There's a reverence as he repeats himself, pathetic attempts to vanquish his disbelief, wonder glistening in his gold-flecked irises, staring at you in awe, searching for proof this isn't some frenzied fever dream of his.Of course, he finds it in your own unwavering eyes.

You've been such a fool.

There, in the locked gaze your shared history glimmers, that shy boy paralyzed by his worship of you, prostrate as the man before your parted legs now, offering his soul, his past, his future.

You reach for him, and he surges upwards. The collision is wave returning and rising from oceans, over and over, is starburst, is incandescence, is the fission of atoms never, ever meant to be split.

It burns away all notions of him as your acolyte or priest, any concept of deity and devotee.

"My life," he breathes into you, and you feel the throb in your ribs, the furnace of his lungs.

"My life," you repeat to your husband.

Adam. Prometheus. Kento.

This morning and many after, he lavishes you with irreverence, a ravishing of irrelevance; his goddess, his woman, his joy -all that matters is that you are his and he is yours; Together, you forge a paradise that exists for as long as the melding of your souls persist, boundless as horizons and sure as sunrises.

@houseofsolisoccasum

#nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x you #jujutsu kaisen #sandsorghum #this one was written in the throes of indulgence #if it wasn't abundantly obvious hahah #tbh im not so sure about the conclusion #if you can call it that #but the details of the finish is besides the point #to demonstrate how infinite the passion is #altho i sure would like a forecast of when this obsession of mine with nanami will pass #because it aches #it's so heavy #how do ppl survive this irl i have no idea

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callsign-datura · 11 months ago

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John Price is the epitome of a strong, capable man. The same man you thought you had no chance with. Which is why you wonder how you ended up here, standing in his office as he appraises you from his seat at his desk. His stony blue eyes raking up and down your form as you stand and twiddle your thumbs to center your anxiety. He chuckled lowly, a gruff rasp that made your heart flutter. He takes note of your anxiety, but he makes no move to acknowledge it. Part of him enjoys the way you're standing there, staring at him with this glint in your eyes. Slowly, he rises from his chair. The legs squeak against the floor as he steps away from his desk, crossing the room towards you with an unreadable expression. He stands, inches between you two, the heat between your bodies bordering on nigh unbearable. "Mm-mm. Such a pretty thing." He says quietly, his words ringing out and making you feel like you're drowning in warm honey. He leans forward, and his lips capture yours in a searing kiss. He's hungry. Pent-up. You could say the stresses of his job are getting to him, which explains his haste. Before you even realize it, he's stripped you. The flesh of your back prickles as he lays you on his desk, hastily pushing away the papers strewn upon it before his hands find their place on your body once again. Carefully traveling up the naked skin of your legs, caressing the slopes of your body. His touch is gentle at first but quickly becomes hasty, hungry and aggressive. "Mm, a fuckin' goddess is what you are..." He whispers, his gaze immediately darting down between your thighs.

"Christ. So fuckin' pretty." He curses to himself, and your gaze flickers down to his hips, and you see the imprint of his hard cock against his beige cargo pants. You reach out, and he's one step ahead of you. Dropping his cargo pants to his knees, and his boxers follow suit. He leans forward, and his cock hits your pelvis gently, the hard length warm against the goosebump-addled skin of your body. He wraps a hand around the base, and he pulls his hips back before pushing forward, guiding his cock to sink into the plush heat of your walls. A groan that is borderline primal escapes his chest, and his head falls back. "So fuckin' wet. God, knew you'd be good," he whispers, looking down at you. His hand slides down your thigh and his thumb finds your clit with practiced ease, and his hips draw back slowly before pushing back into you. It's a foreign feeling, but it feels so damn good. Each pass of his thumb has you whining, each phrase that he utters has you squeezing on the length of his cock. "Look at you. Suckin' me in like a greedy slut." His words take a sudden degrading turn and your body thrums with approval, walls squeezing and releasing on his length repeatedly as he slowly drags himself in and out of you. He brings one hand up to your chest, palming and groping the fat of your breast in one hand, his grip releasing only so his calloused fingers can tug roughly at your pebbled nipple. His pace quickens slightly, and you're already seeing stars. Arching your back and whining as the sound of wet skin slapping gradually increases and reverberates within the room, your eyes roll back in your head. Suddenly, he's a lot more rougher when he hears your little whimpers. "Yeah, so wet... mm, so perfect for me. Yeah, you like that? Y'like it when I pound you like the whore you are?" His words are so fucking dirty, and within seconds his speed ramps up. If you were to look, the only thing you'd see is the length of his cock pulling out of you a few inches before shoving back inside. The head of his cock nudges your cervix, and hot tears sting at the corners of your eyes. His hand wraps around your throat gently, just to keep you pinned against the desk so he can pound into you at a more brutal rate. His other hand releases your tit and comes down to your hips, lifting them up so he can hit that gummy spot along your inner walls. The new position has you keening, your body responding in kind. "Captain!" You cry, your eyes fluttering shut as a tear rolls down the side of your face. "Oh-- Fuck..." Your words trail off in a whimper as he fucks the air out of your lungs, breathless groans falling from his lips. Your tits jiggle with the force of his thrusts and your body jolts with each hit of his hips, and you can't even speak. Your noises come out as garbled cries, pleas for more, even when you feel that coil in your belly tightening to completion. "Mm. Yeah, sweetheart? Can feel you clenchin' on me. C'mon, you wanna cum on your Captain's cock? Give it to me, sweet girl, I know you can..." His words send you spiraling. Your back arches and your cunt convulses around him, and his thrusts stutter. You're sobbing, stars dotting your vision as he grunts dirty, unintelligible things. You throw your head back, gasps falling from your lips as he pounds into you, fucking you through your orgasm. You find yourself shuddering from the sudden overstimulation, but before you can even register that, his hips slam into yours and he groans your name particularly loudly, his grip on your throat tightening just a bit more before he's spilling hot, thick ropes of cum into your cunt. There's a lot-- to the point you feel some dribble out of you and onto the desk underneath you. You swore you've been sent to heaven and back by the time your breathing has calmed, and his weight settles into yours. A warm and fuzzy feeling settles over the two of you, and he grunts softly into you, not bothering to withdraw his cock from your gummy walls. Not a word is shared, but you swore you felt him smile.

#captain john price #john price #price smut #john price smut #price x reader #price x you

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pleasingforharry · 2 years ago

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can you pls write about quiet yn and harrys first time doing something sexual? like their first time or just him eatimg her out for the first time??

Oh hell yeah ;)

college!harry x quiet!yn

Harry had suggested it while they were making out in his room. They returned from his soccer practice freshly showered and stuffed from eating pizza the boys ordered. It was getting late, but neither of them were tired. They just wanted each other.

First they cuddled on his bed and watched a movie. What movie you ask? They don’t remember. It was forgotten as soon as Harry tugged his girlfriend on his front and connected their lips.

Y/N scooted up to coincidentally land right over Harry’s area. Whether it was on purpose or not, his gravelly groan didn’t go unnoticed.

Harry momentarily broke their lips from each other to stare at his girlfriend. She was breathing heavily to catch her breath.

Even though the girl wasn't a complete professional in the aspects of intimacy, the one thing she learned how to master from Harry was kissing. They did it on a daily basis that it became their second language.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Harry sighed, bringing his plush lips to her neck and sucking softly. If there was one spot he knew about her body the most, it was her neck—every inch of it.

Y/N placed her hands in his hair, running her nails along his scalp before gently pulling at his roots. She moaned gently, whispering his name like it was liquid. Harry's cock—already semi-hard from the presence of his girlfriend alone—grew indefinitely thicker. Y/N could feel it pressing against her clit, causing instant shivers.

Harry sat up, back against the mountain of pillows, bringing Y/N with him. He never parted from her neck, switching to the other side to give equal attention.

His hands reached under her (his) shirt to travel up her spine. She was so soft and warm. "Shirt off, baby," He mumbled. Her arms raised, and Harry quickly slipped the material off of her, before they both gripped each other like magnets.

Harry's mouth drooled at the sight of Y/N's pebbled nipples. They were small and hard as he wrapped his lips around the left one. Y/N pushed the back of his head closer. "Yes. Yes!" she whimpered, causing a sudden spark to her clit.

Y/N hips started to subconsciously move against Harry's boxers, her clit feeling the perfect amount of pressure. The couple haven't been dating for long, and as Y/N was still embarrassed about her low intimacy skills, this was the farthest they've ever gone; dry-humping.

Harry had lifted his hips up to her, grasping her ass and kneading them together. Y/N's head threw back as she gasped. She looked back down at him, before leaning in. "Again. Please," she whispered in his ear. Harry was tempted to come, right then and there.

He had finally left her nipples so he could watch the curve of Y/N's waist rotate. His hands moved to hold each side of her hips to help her go faster.

"Just like that, baby. Fuck. Good girl," his voice dropped. He wanted to roll his eyes back and drown in the pleasure, but the sight of Y/N was enough to keep them trained on her.

Y/N boldly reached down to shift her panties to the side so her bare cunt could wetly ride his cock. Harry moaned at his gray boxers turning dark. The smell of her was so strong now.

He wanted to taste it.

Harry's head lifted up, and his hand grabbed Y/N's chin tightly. When they were met face to face, they both stared for a while. Y/N's brows dropped in confusion.

"Let me taste you," was all Harry said, bucking up his hips. "Baby, I wanna taste your cunt so fucking bad."

Y/N wasn't just wet anymore, she was drenched.

Her head moved on its own, rapidly nodding. Harry's lips curved up into a lazy smile. He bucked his hips one last time, both of them moaning in harmony, before flipping them over.

Harry sat on his knees as Y/N adjusted herself to lay flat on the bed. Her hands were over her head, posing like a fucking goddess. Harry leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. You don't understand." His words were muffled against her lips. But she still blushed and glanced away. He chuckled, before gently kissing her cheek. "Look at me."

Her head turned to face him again with a shy smile. But her hands were anything but as they grabbed her breasts and flicked her own nipples. Harry watched in awe as she arched in pleasure. "Harry. Oh god," she gasped as her thumb circled her nipples.

"What are you doing to me, baby?" he puffed. He knocked her hands away and finished what she started. He pressed and swiveled and pinched. She jumped at each touch, grabbing at his wrist. His name came out in pornographic moans that Harry became suddenly possessive of the sounds. Y/N under him is nothing like the Y/N outside his bedroom. "You're naughty, you know that?"

Y/N giggled softly, batting her eyelashes at him. Harry leaned down and stopped right before their mouthed met. "Open." She complied. A line of spit drooled from his mouth into hers. Y/N eyes widened, but still accepted it. "And swallow." She did. "Good girl, baby." Her teeth dug into her bottom lip from the nickname. And the wet stop on her panties spread.

Harry tugged her lip free with his own teeth, before knotting their mouths into an intense kiss. Tongues fighting one another—his plunging deep into her mouth. They were gasping for air and only had a second to catch their breath before attacking each other again.

Y/N's moans grew loud in his mouth as his fingers moved faster on her nipples. She could come. She wanted to. Her hips bucked in agreement. But Harry didn't want it to happen that way. So, he stopped and smirked smugly at her scoff.

"Asshole," she muttered, slapping at his chest.

"You sure?" he licked at her jaw. He found her ear and moaned. Her cunt clenched around nothing. "You won't be saying that when I'm tongue deep in your cunt, I bet." He backed away to look at her, but she couldn't meet his stare as she was blushing profusely. "Look at me. Now." She didn't, and he yanked her chin to face him.

"Let go," she huffed, pushing at his hand.

"Listen," he barely touched his lips to hers, "when I'm fucking your cunt with my mouth, you will watch. Understand? You will not look away, Y/N. And if you do, I promise, we will be here all night."

Y/N's eyes widened.

"I'm serious, baby. I want you to watch what only I will ever be able to do to my cunt. Okay?"

She nodded. "Okay." His smirk grew to his ears.

"Good girl." He kissed her gently. Those kisses moved lower—some ended up being sucked into a dark mark. But as long as it could be easily hidden, Y/N didn't mind.

His lips left a trail between her breasts, down her clenching stomach, to her panties. He kneaded everything with his hands. Y/N whimpered at every touch. She could feel his emotions and desperation. It was overwhelming. Her hands landed on top of his as they moved. Her cunt dripped from the veins that lined his thick fingers.

"You ready for me, baby?" Harry slipped his hands under the sides of her panties. He cocked a brow up, waiting for a response. Y/N looked down at him and bit her lip roughly. She nodded and lifted her hips where his mouth hovered. He kissed the right bone of her hip, then the left.

"Please, dove," She whined, grabbing his shoulders and digging her nails into them. "I want you so bad, Harry. Please."

Just from those words, her panties were stripped away and thrown in the corner. He placed her legs over his shoulders so she couldn't close them. She was at his mercy. Her cunt was bare and dripping, and Harry had the perfect view. But he wanted to wait a little.

He pressed his lips to her inner thighs, giving them kitten licks. Y/N groaned and shifted her leg to push his head closer to her cunt. Harry laughed, looking up at her. "Gotta be patience, baby."

"But I want it now," she sighed. "Please." Her voice got caught up as she watched Harry move closer to where she wanted. But then she let out a huff when he kept going and landed on her other thigh. His teeth bit down and sucked. Y/N still gasped from the pleasurable pain.

Harry's nails dug into her legs and spread them wider. Her other pair of lips opened, and Harry was suffocating in the smell. His eyes rolled back just from that.

"Harry—"

"Yes, baby girl?" He was smirking unabashedly. "Are you rushing me? I should stop, huh?" She shook her head. "Keep going? Even though you were rushing me?"

Asshole. Fucking asshole, she wanted to yell at him. But held her tongue.

Y/N's bottom lip poked out to persuade him. "Please, dovie."

"What? You want my tongue that bad. You wanna know what it'll finally feel like to have me deep inside you?" He tilted his head to the side. "You probably dream about this, don't you baby?"

Harry hovered his lips over her clit. He was so close that Y/N felt his breath against her. All she had to do was lift her hips, but she didn't want to risk him stopping all together.

"Yes, I do. Please, I wanna feel you, Harry. Just lick me," Y/N begged, sitting up on her elbows. Her legs were over his shoulders and her feet touched his back. She dug her heels into him.

"I will, baby. I promise. Remember my one rule, though?" She nodded.

"Don't look away. Ever," she said.

Harry smiled warmly. "Good girl."

Before Y/N could react, Harry captured her clit into his mouth. She yelled out a moan, and her hand grabbed his head. "Oh my god!"

So, this was what it felt like.

Harry sucked his cheeks in as he suckled on her clit. His tongue licked and swirled. His head shook, and Y/N's back arched. Both of his arms circled her thighs to keep her exactly where he wanted her.

"Harry! Fuck. Yes, please."

Harry flattened his tongue on her clit, the warmth of it boiling her insides. He licked long stripes—completely covering her.

"You taste better than I fucking imagined, baby. Oh god," Harry moaned. His eyes stayed on hers as he stuck his tongue out and slowly circled her clit. Y/N let out a silent gasp, before squeaking out the only noise her throat would allow out.

Harry moved down to her folds, licking each lip. He brought his thumb up to her clit to replace his tongue. His head nodded with his tongue, before he plunged inside of her. That earned a tug to his hair.

"F—fuck. Oh fuck. Yes!" Y/N rolled her hips into him. Harry watched her writhed and smiled against her cunt. He drank up her words, her sounds, her fucking begging. "More. Please, more."

"Yeah, you feel good, baby?" He asked. She nodded, tightening her grip in his hair. His thumb circled faster, and so did his tongue. He swiveled it as she rode him.

"So good! It's so good, Harry. Oh—" Y/N cut herself off by a long string of moans. It wasn't on purpose, she couldn't help it. Y/N threw her head back as she pushed his head into her.

She didn't even realized she did it until Harry's tongue and thumb retracted from her.

"Y/N." His voice was so dark that she flinched. Her head lifted, and when she met eyes with him, she realized what happened. "What did I say?"

"I'm sorry. I.. please, keep going. I won't do it again," She begged, her hips still lifting. He stared at her for a long second. "I promise. Please. I'm close."

Harry smiled and shrugged. "I can't say no to that." And his thumb and tongue returned to their original spot. Y/N was caught off guard by the overwhelming return of pleasure that she gasped loudly. Her teeth dug into her lips. But the way Harry furrowed his eyebrows demandingly, she released her lip just as fast.

His tongue licked and flattened and swirled and plunged. He couldn't get enough. Y/N could only moan in response as her mind wouldn't make up any words. She was a moaning, gasping mess.

It was a sight etched into Harry's head.

"Harry, I'm close. Fuck! I'm so close, dove," Y/N whined, pushing at his head. "Stop. I can't."

"I got you, baby. It's okay," Harry said against her cunt. He leaned up to grasp her clit with his lips and sucked.

Her back was arching as far as it could go. She wanted to roll her eyes back so bad, but release was more important. So, her eyes stayed trained on Harry's tongue flicking at her clit. He knew exactly what she needed and how she needed it.

"Gonna come, baby?" She whimpered and nodded. "Good. I want it all over my face. Fucking mine. I want it." Harry was mumbling nonsense as his fingers were now playing with her clit. His tongue licking her cunt faster, ready to take all she gave him.

Y/N elbows wiggled as she was loosing feeling everywhere. She suddenly felt a bubbling pressure. "Yes. Yes. I'm coming. Fuck. Harry."

His name was stretched and screamed out loud as she let go. Her hips continued to roll to ride it out.

Harry moaned and licked deep into her. He collected all of her juices gracefully. His hands tightened around her thighs to make sure she stayed put until he was finished.

Y/N knew she was finally able to close her eyes when Harry did it first. He was drunk from her taste, and focused on the lone sense in his tongue. She dropped from her elbows to flat on the bed. Her arms stretched over her.

Harry's tongue continued to slowly lick her folds. She was finished and clean, but Harry wanted more. His moaning was so low, it was barely audible. His tongue slipped between her folds into her cunt, and he dug his face deeper. His nose nudged Y/N's clit, causing her to jump.

She was breathing heavily, whimpering from the overstimulation. She weakly pushed at Harry's head. "Dovie?" She spoke, her voice hoarse and shaking. "Let me see you, baby."

Her thumb brushed his cheek softly, trying to bring him back. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up at her. But his tongue didn't stop kitten licking her cunt.

"So good. You did so fucking good, baby. Fuck," he whispered. His eyes were gentle. She smiled at him.

"Come here. Come to me." She outstretched her arms. Harry licked into her one last time, before pulling away and crawling between her legs to her naked chest. She cupped his cheeks and brought them into a passionate kiss.

"See how good you taste?" He said against her lips. She nodded, completely wrapping her arms around his neck.

Harry was hovering over her by his elbows. His cock was near her cunt as he slowly bucked into her. They didn't pull away from their kiss as they moaned together. He was so hard that it hurt, so Y/N reached down to rub him. Harry sucked in a breath, before gasping into her mouth.

"I got you," Y/N said, pulling him out of his boxers. "Just relax."

Harry stuffed his head into Y/N's neck and sighed. He planted his knees on the bed as she wrapped her hand around him—not completely as he was too thick.

Y/N started at a slow pace, sliding her thumb over his tip before pumping to his base. Harry moaned in her ear. He thrusted himself into her hand, fastening his pace with hers.

Y/N's other hand reached for his balls to quicken his release. "Fuck. Yes, baby. Oh," Harry moaned, his thrust harder. He sunk his teeth into her neck. He was close.

His cock was veiny against her palm. She pumped him faster. Pre-come was slowly leaking out of him. "I want it, dove. Please," She whispered. Harry gasped in her ear—his thrust slowed but now sharp.

He only pushed into her hand a few more times, before stiffening. His come shot out and landed on her cunt and inner thighs. Harry sighed, pulling away and panting. Y/N smiled at him.

"Thank you, baby," He said, before kissing her. His fingers picked up some of his come. "Open." She did. He stuck his finger into her mouth, and she sucked harshly. He slipped it out with a pop, before engulfing her in a kiss.

i'm ashamed of myself. gonna go take a walk.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles imagine #college!harry #college!harry x quiet!yn #harry styles boyfriend #harrystyles #harry styles x yn #harry styles oneshot #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb

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sevenop · 4 months ago

Text

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: There's nothing you could do or say

A/n: I just want to shove a revolver down my throat and pull the trigger with some indescribable pleasure of primacy. It would break my heart to see you die slowly, fade away and become a ghost of the past.

Inspired by 'i love you,' Billie's point of view. The person this is meant for, I hope you especially like this text. Let me know, dude!

Caution: mention of illness. I apologize if this offends you in any way.

There are only three hours left before the night flight to Berlin, and I still haven't seen you all day: waking up in the same bed together doesn't really count, because I'm always so short of you, you know that. I overslept godlessly, jumped out of bed in one merged impulse, like a Hellhound, and you just smiled, reminding with your calmness the mistress of the underworld - Persephone. You helped me get ready as quickly as possible, reducing my small gap in the schedule to almost zero, even though you just got up.: with slightly swollen and reddened eyes, battered, so homely in my clothes, which I always throw under your palms on purpose. In my clothes, you look so ethereal, protected, so... mine.

For you, I am a hasty whirlwind of branded clothes with a fabulous price tag and my own defenseless nakedness, demolishing everything in my path except you. I hurriedly screw up an awkward, such an unequal to your care "thank you", while my head is quickly filled to the brim with lines-schedules with the time of events for today. The usual madness.

"'Merci', we're still in France," you correct jokingly, perched on the edge of the bed and smile, with the very corners of your lips. Your pale cheek is imprinted with the silhouette of a pillow after sleep, and that smile on your lips is pure fissure.

Your hands twitch a little as you daintily dig your aristocratically skinny fingers into the fabric and take turns holding out the clothes you'd prepared for me while I was in the bathroom. You chalk it up to your over-indulgence in coffee these days, and give me the traditional neat kiss goodbye while I'm so reluctant to let you out of the protection of my palms, which look so good on your waist. You smile again, and again your smile is an immaculate fracture, your eyes a deafening abyss for the first time, unreadable to me.

"How are you feeling, my heart?" - I run my hand over your cheek. You're still too pale even by my standards, and you're also unusually cold. My own heart falls down a little, like a balloon under a weight.

"It's okay, Eilish." - You croak softly in my ear, and it feels so good, it gives me goosebumps. I bite playfully on your lobe, unable to contain myself, and close my fingers around your waist a little tighter. - I'll pack our bags, run or you'll be really late."

Something is really wrong, and I don't have time to ask: the phone in the pocket of my shorts is literally bursting with the trill of a dozen calls, and I'm really far behind schedule. So this "something" is sluggishly drowned out in the noise of my mind as I listen to the manager's plans, drive with my mom and brother from place to place, sit through several consecutive interviews, answering semi-automatically, albeit diligently sincere. Thoughts about you are silenced, resembling furniture still untouched by the hungry tongues of flame, on which the burning roof of the house immediately collapses: it is only necessary to "dive" me back into the car, bypassing the noisy and curious crowd, to not meet the usually extremely warm, understanding and peaceful lakes in mom's eyes - this lingering "something" clicks loudly, again burdening not only the head, but also the whole heart. Blinding sparks of worry gleam in her gaze, like lake pebbles catching the light of the sun through the thickness of the waters. Are there secrets again?

"Mom, is something wrong?" - the sliding door slams shut with a bang as soon as several managers and Finn deftly run into the salon, who is almost dragging the setting sun behind him, like a gel ball on a string: his shaggy red hair playfully winking golden lights in the light. The stocky guard taps the side of the van several times with a massive fist, announcing readiness, and And mom is twitching, as if someone fired a cannon - "Mom?"

"I... I don't think I'm at liberty to tell you just yet, dear." - She self-effacing, wanting to look away, but she doesn't let herself, just catches Finneas's gaze for a second, turning back to me.

"What do you mean?" - I frown, leisurely glancing over her: a little hunched over in her unnaturally, stiff, confused. Not at all like her. His heart began to rattle, climbing up his ribs and all the way to his throat, to lodge there in a lump of excitement and foreboding. Finneas coughs awkwardly, drawing attention to himself, as ungainly as our mother, except that his eyes are cold icebergs of concentration and utter seriousness, and his hands are resting on his knees in a tight grip, as if he's on the scariest attraction of his life. The blood in my arteries boils from the pressurization, from mine own blunt ignorance. - "Tell me, I want to know."

"Y/n hasn't told you yet?" - his voice sounds disproportionately ingratiating in the noise of people's shouts of adoration and the soft rustle of wheels gradually gaining momentum. The van moves smoothly back toward the hotel and It's not long before we'll be leave, all that's left is to pick you up, the rest of the faithful crew and a couple of our suitcases. Except to cut that anger-inducing Gordian knot of misunderstandings that has been wagging since I woke up.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" - the words come out like bright, rustling confetti from a naughty firecracker. I still couldn't help myself.

They look at each other in silence, almost shouting a heartfelt epitaph in the harmony of their voices. Finneas touches my shoulder gently with his palm, and mother takes my hands in her warm palms, and I feel a slight tremor creep through her. I feel that now I find myself along with them on this unknown attraction, that twists nerves and veins on its mechanism, being driven by fear.

"About her leukemia, Bils."

And the world immediately collapses to the size of an atom, ceasing to exist and sound at all. Boom! A shot from a shotgun at point-blank range, what smearing my bloody remains, the remnants of my mind on the darkened glass and the entire cabin. From the floor to the roof.

"What?..." - Like the four pearls clicked quietly on the stone tiles of the floor, as my the letters bounced lightly off the silence of the salon, echoing them. Even the small bunch of managers shut up instantly, looking in our direction with a kind of pity, as soon as this harbinger of doom reaches their ears. Leukemia.

"We don't know if it's really true, because the first symptoms could be conjugated by their similarity to simple severe overexertion, and the resulting diagnosis is a likely paperwork error," - Mom closes her gently fingers on my palms tighter, but my blood is already cold and I can't feel anything, as if I've ducked under the thickest of ice, - "We all just hoping that the new test show it's really true, but..."

"But she asked to be ready." - Finn's voice trembles, but he heroically finishes. - "Just in case."

"What?..." - like a wind-up puppet I scatter these long-suffering four letters again, and I don't have enough for more. In an elusive mind, a puzzle flimsily develops, answering a question that has been stuck into my head since the morning, and I see that smile of yours before my eyes - a delicate pink stroke protecting me from the catastrophe of Vesuvius: "It's okay, Eilish...". And immediately so wants seeing the world blurred, drowning in stinging salt from tears.

And I remember jumping out of the van, remember flying into the elevator, hitting the floor button a hundred thousand times in a few seconds just to get to the top faster, remember how kicking the door to our hotelroom with my whole body, catching you off guard. All of this is completely unimportant, a merged sequence that is so treacherously imprinted on my brain while being completely insignificant. You're sitting near the entrance, perched upright on your large suitcase: your sharp shoulders are outlined by my ridiculously colored T-shirt, and your long legs in baggy jeans are stretched out while you tap your converses socks against each other. You jumping up with a startle, like the devil out of a snuffbox under the force of a steel spring, when the door meets the wall with a distinctive slam. The unreadable morning abysses in your eyes are fathomlessly sad now, while I am devoid of words, all the letters of the alphabet, every possible sound. And you understand just so, without any of those empty air vibrations stealing up the already precious now time. You understand what they told me.

"It's not true," - I kneel down, not even closing the door behind me, I don't care. Wrap both palms around your face, but you just stare at me with a look of worldwide sorrow, cuddling up to me like a beaten kitten. - "Tell me I've been lied to..."

"I'm sorry, Eilish," - your soft whisper that hits me exactly in the solar plexus, - "It's true."

It's true. It feels like my guts have been left somewhere in an elevator office, a bloody trail leading right here to you. I was completely blown away.

"Billie, I-"

"Okey, listen, I'll help! I'll pay whatever it takes, I'll give them everything!" - My ligaments were tearing with excitement, turning my own measured whisper into a pathetic whimper.

"There's nothing you could do or say." - You raking me up into your arms, and without a second thought, I burst into tears: the world in front of me was starting to blur and my eyes stinging. Why? Why you? All you do is stroke my head like a whiny little baby while I crumple the fabric of your t-shirt with my hands, choking on my own despair. - "All we have to do for now is wait. We'll find out in Berlin."

"W-why didn't you tell me this morning?"

"I knew you wouldn't go anywhere after that, I didn't want to cause trouble." - You chuckle softly, and I just press myself into you tighter, my wet nose against your neck, my arms wrapped around you. Suddenly, if I let go now, you're gone forever? - "I'm sorry, I know I should have told you sooner. I just..."

"Please don't leave!" - The tears and nerves are starting to make me shake. The feeling of coldness behind my back mixes with a small flame of hope as your hands stroke my shoulder blades. - "Please, please, please..."

"I won't leave, Eilish," - your hand touches my chin, lifting my head to touch my lips with yours, and I gasp, memorizing absolutely every crack on them as if for the last time. - "I won't leave."

I don't remember how much I was hysterical, but the life-giving warmth of your hands lingered in my memory, which spread down my back, giving me like demonic wings, behind which I so want to hide you from everyone and everything. I remember how I collected your tears with my lips, resembling transparent snakes, as two worried heads appeared in the doorway - a copper-red and a light sandy one, it's mom with Finn. We leave the hotel, and I don't let go of your hand for a second: not when you're carrying a heavy suitcase that I'm trying so hard to take away, not when you jump into the car with me, not when we're sitting in line for a flight. Mom tries to defuse the situation, from time to time timidly and tenderly asking about how you feels, Finneas and dad offer all kinds of help here and there, and you just laugh it off, hiding behind this cunning, and even now beautiful in its falsity fracture playing on your lips. You squeeze my hand tighter, stoically swallowing your own excitement, devouring from the inside.

After a while, we are already climbing the airplane ramp, surrounded by the dense darkness of the night, and you are smiling again, when I look at you anxiously again: the smile that you gave me, even when you felt like dying. An old line, personally composed and now my personal nightmare in an instant, become much stronger than before. What else can I do but wait endlessly? Up all night on another red-eye I stared at you just as endlessly, when fatigue took over and you dozed off, trustingly resting your head on my shoulder. I silently memorizing absolutely every feature of your face to plug the abyss in my head. It's all infinity multiplied by infinity.

The porthole is gradually being colored in light blue tones. We have arrived in Berlin.

×××

A ragged breath bounces off the tiled walls, mixing with a loud splash: I emerge from under the thickness of the already almost cooled water, just to hang limply in the wide bathtub. There is an absolute emptiness in my head, shackle me with it's coolness, like this water around my body. So perfectly. I hear a light knock on the bathroom door, so sonorous, as if you are touching the wood with your very knuckles: they are slightly reddish, beautiful. Yes, I think I was too loud. When you don't hear an answer, you press down on the door handle and walk softly through to carefully sit on the side of the bathad. Excitement spreads in your eyes, like rainbow spots of gasoline on the surface of a puddle.

"Billie, are you okay?"

No, are you? It's so ironic that it's being asked by the person who is now in pathological danger more than anyone else. I'm supposed to be strong for you, but somehow I've suddenly broken down on my own, staring so blankly at that spotless white-washed ceiling for half an hour. Worthlessness. The water splashes again, makeshift waves rising slightly over the tub's rims, leaking onto the tile floor as I assume a sitting position and stare at you after all, eye to eye. Naked and insignificant. I can't do nothing with everything I have, I just want to shove a revolver down my throat and pull the trigger with some indescribable pleasure of primacy. It would break my heart if I see how you die slowly, fade away and become a ghost of the past.

"Yes." - My own hoarse echo, covering weakness.

"Your water's cold, a klutz," - you touch your fingertips to the cold surface and shiver. - "and you're also lying."

We stare at each other in silence, and then I break again like a branch of a flowering tree: rustling and crunching. You and the bathroom start to shake, so I cover my eyes to hold back the hailstones of tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Crying isn't like you," your hot palms touch my cheeks with indescribable care, brushing away the droplets of tears and wiping away the clear paths of sadness. - "Never been the type to let someone see right through."

You speak in my own lines, either from the fact that your thoughts are so close to my soul lyrics, or just to cheer me up. You know how much I enjoy it, how much it amuses me. But right now it's not funny, it hurts. You catch my gaze and your lips quickly fold into a sincere "sorry" before kissing my water-damp forehead.

"What will I do without you if this turns out to be true?" - I grab your wrists, pulling you closer, and you smile for the thousandth time in these two days, while the irises of your beautiful eyes reflect my praying glaciers, which melt in despondency, creating new salty rivers that flow between your slender fingers. You never let go of my face. - "What should I do, Y/n?"

"First off, get out of the cold bath so you don't get sick." - you coo, hiding mutual shards of sharp pain in a gaze that's as variable in its spectrum of light as a gothic stained glass window. - "And we'll decide the rest in a warm bed, okay?"

I climb out of the tub, stepping barefoot onto the bare tile, and you deftly throw a huge, soft towel over me and hold out another, smaller one for my hair.

"I'll be waiting, Eilish." - You kiss my lips, and I don't want to pull away, just hang on to your neck with both arms. The soft towel immediately falls to the floor, once again exposing the pale curves of my body, which you look at fleetingly, shyly.

"Stay with me, don't go, please."

And you stay, leaning patiently on the sink built into the nightstand, waiting for me to run a soft towel over the alabaster skin, collecting all the moisture, waiting for me to put on clean clothes. Silently staring, so attentive, as if memorizing.

"You're so beautiful, O'Connell." - You catch me off guard with your words just as I bend over to open the stopper in the tub. The water immediately swirls into a small spiral vortex, dancing over the drain, and your words make it an order of magnitude harder to breathe. - "My insanity.

We go back to the bedroom: I pull you with me, accompanying you confidently between the coffee table and other furnishings in the dark, and you follow obediently, understanding without any words. We lie down on the bed, and I immediately cling to you in a hug like a baby koala and you cover us with a heavy blanket and I exhale for the first time in two days as if nothing had happened. It would be so nice if it were true.

"You need to rest, Bils." - you gently pull me closer to you, though it feels like it's getting no closer, as I lavish light kisses on your face, -"You're tired."

"You still haven't answered my question."

You sigh heavily, as if your lungs are in a vise and your thoughts are trapped in a snare of fears and your own fear of choosing the wrong words. You look away, but I immediately stroke your face, bringing you back to me. I try to look warmly, even though I'm as scared as you are.

"Let's hope? And if it still don't, then... forget me, please."

I covered my eyes to collect my thoughts, but the same picture was in front of them: tourniquet, needles, thick syringe. I watch from the couch as your dark scarlet blood first spreads moderately along the transparent walls of the cylinder, and then quickly runs upwards, following the piston of the pressurized syringe. I fold my hands in front of me between my apart knees, and I can see them trembling with excitement. You told me not to go, and I just couldn't do it, I'm too worried about you. It's only when the thin needle catches a glimmer in the light, darting out of your vein, that I exhale, diligently watching the shiver. My head wants to twitch in a tic, but I don't let it. For your sake I coped then, I need to cope with the words now.

"Do you want to leave?" - The voice twitches so stupidly, echoing the heart that's throbbing behind my sternum. - "What about your promise?"

"I don't want to, but I love you," - and you don't smile anymore, just pull the corners of your lips down, exposing your own weariness. - "And I don't want you to get hurt even when just looking at me."

"Maybe won't you take it back? Say you were tryingna make me laugh." - I bump my nose against your collarbone, sending goosebumps through your body with my hot breath. - "It'll hurt me even more when I know you'll be alone, that I won't be able to be there for you when I can help in any way, Y/n."

"But now you feel weak and insignificant, I can see that, Eilish! And it's all my fault!" - You furies on, and I deftly catch your lips with mine for a soothing kiss. You exhale stunned, but immediately calm down, becoming so soft and supple in my arms. Only now do I realize how much you've broken yourself under the strain of waiting, realize I can't let go.

"I can't escape the way I love you..." - softly humming just one line, and the embers of hope are already kindling in your eyes.

"I can't escape the way I love you." - you whisper repeat confidently, quieting my restless seas in response.

And we touch each other's lips an infinite number of times, without any words or oppressive thoughts, because they are not necessary now. The excited exhalations, looks, and sensations mean so much more now. You drift off to sleep unnoticed by exhaustion, not breaking the safe warmth of the embrace, sniffle amusedly into my shoulder, and I finally smile with more than a serene smile before I drift off into the realm of Morpheus after you, gulping down a thousand hopes.

It's just over ten hours to the rubicon crossing.

×××

Finneas awkwardly grips the long fingerboard of the bass guitar, touching the thick strings with his fingers, not so much testing as seeking reassurance in the sound. He looks at me, and I shudder as I lean on the microphone stand. The stage lights flared up in one loud click, blinding me, making me frown.

"Are you ready?" - From afar, somewhere in the darkness, the cameraman's cheerful voice is heard.

"One second!" - Mom shrieks from backstage as I almost nod. Synchronously, my brother and I turn our heads in the direction of the shout, and this action also recurs by the rest of the studio staff. Mom is glowing brighter than any spotlight, Dad is almost dancing with a mixture of emotions, and you're standing backstage with them, clutching a folded sheet of paper in your hands. And you smile. At last, without a fracture, so sincerely.

Finn jumps up from his seat like a rocket, and I keep up: flying into your arms with the microphone in hand, making you stagger, but with light laugh.

"Negative." - you whisper gently in my ear, and I'm ready to burst into millions of brightest fireworks. - "The hospital really just mixed up the paperwork back then."

And when the rest of the family joins the hug with joyful hooting, and we all jump together like a football team that won a world match, the heart finally finds peace, getting into the precisely designed groove between the ribs.

You're all right.

#billie eilish #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish x reader

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dangerous-yam-fries · 1 month ago

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Male Naga x GN!Reader - NSFW

Asks and Suggestions are open and encouraged!

Warnings: prehensile dicks, hemipenes (two dicks), kidnapping, MILD drowning???, stalking, envenomation, double dick handjob, MINORS LEAVE GET OUT OF HERE!

You had been researching a multitude of lower classifications from the Chordata phylum, eventually becoming a member of a research term for the study of Serpentes-Homo Sapiens. Snake people, Naga, whatever you want to call them. Even if you didn’t find the famed Naga, you were excited to be in a different country surrounded by foreign life, so you bore with the bugs and humidity.

You were wading through a stagnant, mucky pond in your thick plastic overalls, while sweat slicked the inside of your clothes, mud and pond scum on the outside.

At first, you were simply gathering water samples, but that quickly turned into more of a fun, exploratory session as you walked in the water. It came up to about the middle of your thigh, so it wasn’t too deep, just a little mushy under your feet. You made sure to wear water shoes, they fit comfortably, but you could still feel rocks and pebbles poking the pads of your feet as you walked slowly into the middle of the pond.

“Well, aren’t you cool…” You mumble as you inspect a larva of a diving beetle. It looks like a grub with thin back plates and stringy antenna as the water around it clears up. It quickly retreats into the depths of the pond, leaving you to wander through the water. You decided to catalog the different fauna and flora, soon getting distracted and losing track of time.

You were so enthralled with the beauty and complexity of the biome that you didn’t notice you were being watched. Stalked, even.

Hyacinth laid eyes on the first day you landed at the camp, and for some reason, he simply couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were captivating, the way your sweat glistened on your skin like morning dew, how your face flushed under the sun, making your blemishes, scars, and freckles look like stars.

But he could never look into your eyes, for you’d surely notice him then. For weeks, he was content to merely watch your fluttering figure, but he soon hungered for more. So he waited until you were utterly alone, too far away from your fellow researchers for them to help you. And here you were, far away from any human life, and utterly distracted, sneaking up on you was far too easy.

You were suddenly pulled under the water, it wasn’t deep, but it was certainly enough to drown in. You held your breath as you kicked and struggled against whatever was trying to kill you, but it was no use. Opening your mouth, you felt water fill your throat and spill into your lungs, your eyes stung and your body felt like it was on fire. The muddy water soon turned black as you lost all consciousness.

Hyacinth was absolutely smitten with you by the time he made it to his home, he relished in forcing the water out of your lungs, it only gave him an excuse to kiss you. After multiple hours entrapped in Hyacinth’s warm tail you coughed and sputtered awake.

“Mmm pet~” Your body jolted awake at the sound of a person’s voice, your heart beating rapidly when you lay your eyes upon the owner of said voice. You choke when you see him. A real, live Naga, the very creature you had been searching so hard for.

“Awake, are we?” He smiles and you see a flicker of his tongue dart out of his mouth and caress your cheek. “Don’t be scared, pet. I won’t hurt you.” His face is right up against yours, and you find yourself staring straight into his eyes.

“Beautiful…” You hadn’t even remembered the events that transpired prior to your fainting as you swooned at his eyes. The scleras were reminiscent of opal, with purples, pinks and greens wrinkled together in the shiny orb. His pupils were two black slits as sharp as glass.

He found himself blushing at that, you thought he was beautiful! A joyous pure erupts in his throat as his forked tongue flicks over your lips. “W-who are you? Uh… I’m (Name), I, I think?” You mumbled, suddenly out of breath with your mind going a mile a minute.

“Hyacinth…” His tongue licked at your lips, his eyes not breaking from yours, even when they started to water. Your eyes were even more dazzling than he thought they would be. They looked as bright as the sun, practically glowing, or maybe that was the light of the fire… “I am Hyacinth”

“Hyacinth… like the flower?” You inquired, your breath hitching for no apparent reason. Your mind didn’t even register the intimate proximity, or his tongue gliding upon your lips, occasionally licking at your tongue and probing into your mouth.

“Like the flower.” He smiled, he was so happy to have you here, in his arms, wrapped in his tail, and so very receptive to his… courting. You glanced around you, breaking eye contact with Hyacinth to gaze at his tail. It was so purple, with scales like fuchsia petals, shining in the fires light like fireflies. He really looked so beautiful. His skin was a handsome tan, painted with freckles and scars and burns, like cartography on a worn map.

“M-may I, touch you?” You hesitantly reached your dominant hand out, just barely ghosting over his shoulder.

He trilled at this, taking your hands and placing them on his chest, cupping his sinewy breasts. “You may touch anywhere you please, (Name).” He drawled out your name, savoring the sound on his tongue.

You shivered, and squeezed his chest slightly, blushing at the way he flushed underneath you. Your hands slid to his shoulders, rubbing the freckles and scars on the rosy brown skin, your heart was pounding out of your rib cage by the time you laid your hands on his tail.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening when you touch the very end of his tail, the coil of scales coming to a bumpy end. “You’re so beautiful… Hyacinth.” You gulped, and caressed the tip, rubbing the scaly tail with your fingers, stopping when you heard him let out a strangled sound. “Is everything alright?” You ask worriedly, but still not letting go of his tail.

Hyacinth’s breath is labored, his eyes narrow, but not in malice. “J-just a little, sensitive there, pet.” He still manages a smile, glistening fangs shining in his mouth. Your face goes red as you become aware of a wet mess beneath you, two pinkish-purple tips peeking out of a glistening genital slit.

“O-oh, I’m, I’m sorry.” You gulp, and after a moment of self reflection, your mind hazy with scientific desire, you ask a confirming question. “I, I may touch, anywhere, right?” You practically drool at the sight of his twitching sex as your fingers run along his slit and spread it, letting loose his two cocks.

“Not waiting for an answer…” He said, less of a question and more of an observation as your fingers glide along the length of his dick, tracing the lithe veins as they curl around your hand. “They’re prehensile…” He gets bolder, rocking into your touch, his hands making quick work of your own clothes.

You don’t say anything as you play with them, gripping the bases and letting them wrap around your hands, thrusting in and out of them. Hyacinth moans and shudders just inches away from your face, muttering lewd phrases and dirty words, giving you quite a show.

“A little tighter, pet~ Your hands are so warm, I’m sure your insides are warmer~” He twitches and sighs as your hands clasp around his dicks even tighter, becoming slippery with slick and precum as you pump your hands slightly. “So, so good. More, faster, pet, please.” His voice is broken up and shaky, like music to your ears as he pants and moans. You comply, rubbing your hands on his prehensile cocks even faster, tighter, still pumping his lengths even after he paints your hands with cum.

“Ahhh~ p-pet, too much, slow down for me!” You try to stop but your hands move on their own, eyes tearing up with his as his nails dig into your bare waist. You stop your hands, not realizing how close he is to another orgasm as he bites into your shoulder, gasps racking his body.

Your tears fall as your eyes roll back, your body being pumped full of his venom. Choking, you can’t breathe, your throat seizing up, noticing this, Hyacinth kisses you roughly, forcing air down your lungs. Your brain activity is slowed, so you don’t even notice your body being lifted above his cocks and genital slit.

“It won’t hurt, pet.” He takes his lips away from yours, but only for a second as he continues helping you to breathe. Your hole tingles as he rubs his dicks against it, lathering it with his cum and slick before plunging a prehensile penis inside. “You are warm, pet~” His lips meet yours again, resuming the kiss.

One of his dicks thrusts in and out of your hole, curling against your most pleasurable parts, flaring at the entrance, giving your hole a good stretch. He drools and slobbers on your lips, his saliva dripping down your chin and his as he thrusts even faster. His other cock moves to caress your sex, rubbing it up and down and getting it wet with cum. It curls around your tip, squeezing and rubbing it mercilessly.

His cocks bully your sex, your body shaking from overstimulation even with the effects of his venom. It feels like you’re on fire, but unlike in the pond, it’s a pleasant burn, one that lights the fires of passion and lust as your insides constrict and tighten around his prehensile dick.

Your insides squeeze around him, your sex twitching against his dick as he ruts against it even faster, determined to deliver you a mind-shattering orgasm. You cum hard, getting the both of you even wetter, his dick squelching its cum inside of you as he reaches his own orgasm. He moans into your mouth, eyes locked with yours as he continues to hump your insides, eating up your sobs as overstimulation racks your brain.

You’ll have plenty of time to study him, especially his mating process. After all, the first session can take up to 75 hours. And he would make sure your hole milked him dry, daring not to spill a drop.

#male reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x reader #naga #monster boyfriend #monster x human #bottom male reader #mxm #monster x fem!reader #monster x gn reader #gn reader #female reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere male

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jolalibrary · 1 year ago

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wicked games you play

javier peña x f!reader | bonus scene of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: smut. p in v. fingering. cunnilingus. javi pov. wrap it before you tap it, people. 18+. PLEASE read chapter six before this one.

Javi’s unsure who moves first—when the words leave your mouth.

All he knows is his lips are on yours, he has a fistful of your tee, and you’ve buried your nails into his scalp.

It’s heavy, all smothered in desperation and wrapped with lust as he begins drowning again. So willingly, almost wishing too. Feeling your presence seep into his bones, making his brain turn silent and everything else wake up.

Then you whimper, and he has to fight a grin.

That night on the phone coming straight back to him. How you’d gasped, moaned, right down his ear—how it had kissed his brain and made him hard. How pretty you sounded.

Now he gets to see it all. Hear it all.

His fingers sliding over your neck, your quickening pulse hammering against his fingers as your eyes open. And they’re ablaze with want, dousing him in it, coating him—becoming the only layer he wants to wear.

“Been thinking about this since the phone call.”

“Quite tame for you, Javi. I’ve been thinking of a whole lot more, honestly.”

He likes it when you’re quick. When your quick-wit slides from your tongue.

He likes it more that it’s you who begins to remove his shirt, palms sliding over his shoulders, fingers under the fabric as it slides down his arms until it flutters to the ground. Yours follows, his thumbs hooking under, knuckles grazing your skin before it’s over your head and in some corner.

Then your lips begin to play a game. You pull them from him, making his mouth chase—doing so until he grasps your jaw and cheek, licking into your mouth. The noise you make goes straight to his cock—it hardening—uncomfortably so—against the zipper of his jeans. Rolling his hips against you as you moan.

Thankfully, the other clothes practically melt from the two of you. Javi guiding you out of yours, you sliding his jeans down with a doe-eyed look before kissing up his calf, past his knee, along his thigh—

Javi pulls you to your feet.

“I get first taste, baby.”

It’s an earlier promise he’s calling on, cashing it in. One you had given him—sweetly saying you promise— when you were so close down the phone to him.

His mouth finds your neck, tongue swiping over your collarbone, tracing a line down the skin close to the cup of your bra before he lightly sucks.

It’s just enough—but not enough to mark. Hands winding around you, undoing the second to last piece of clothing on your body, freeing your chest to him—your nipples pebble under the cool air, before his tongue wraps around one and his palm the other.

“Fuck.”

He smirks at the breathy way you say it, your hand burying in his hair, tugging lightly.

It’s then you mumble that you’re safe, clean.

That you haven’t been with anyone in months.

Javi kisses you for that. Not because he’s possessive, but rather he paints your lips in relief that he’s not at risk of losing you to someone else. Someone possibly better, who can offer you more.

A thought which niggles and roars, depending on his mood and day. But this, the two of you together and your confirmation calms a part of him that he’s tried not to let get to him. Something you must be able to tell because your palm tilts his head back up to you.

Strict demands—instructions: bed, top drawer, protection.

Tomorrow, when he runs his fingers up and down your side—now knowing how soft and warm you are—he’ll comment on your prepared presumption. Watch in awe as you likely go embarrassed again—hide yourself behind that smile until he pulls you close, kissing you, assuring you.

Maybe he’ll tell you then that his room has some too. That he hadn’t assumed, having been happy to just meet you, but if it happened, he hadn’t wanted it to fall on you to sort. Wanting to be prepared.

In truth, he’d have been happy just to enjoy the feeling of you smirking against his lips as he clutches your cheek, presses his forehead to yours, and curl into the feeling of your hands digging into his side.

But, if he gets to reap, he’ll reap. Sliding his hand down your neck, fingers brushing over your breast, thumb and finger lightly squeezing the peak of your nipple, feeling it harden under his touch once more.

“So pretty,” he murmurs.

Sliding his tongue across your smooth bottom lip—tasting the salt from the chips earlier—the scent of shampoo that he’s had driving him insane since you were in his truck.

You make the prettiest noises too.

Do the prettiest things.

Feeling your hand stroke over his cloth-covered cock, fingers lightly sliding up and down, up and—

“Can I taste you, cariño? Please?”

Your hand pauses its teasing, eyes meeting his, and then you nod.

And fuck does he.

Peeling your underwear from your hips, he leaves them balled up at the foot of the bed he has you splayed on.

Javi knew you’d be soft, smooth. His cheek brushes your inner thigh as your fingers resume their place—tangled in his hair.

He’s barely touched you, barely ran the tip of his tongue over you, but you’re trying to move your hips. Patience not a current virtue, by any means.

Please, you beg.

On another night—after sharing many of them together—he’d make you wait. Pin your hips to the bed, drag it out until your voice is hoarse from begging him.

But he wants this, too.

Needs you. All desperate to take you apart—to have your taste on his tongue, the scent of you in the hair above his lip. He wants to hear you make the noises you did for him down the phone, but here in person—all live, just for him.

Maybe, on another night (if he can be so lucky), he’ll be able to see what you did that night. Watch, hand around his cock as your fingers bury themselves inside you at his words, at his praise. Because you are so good. Like being told it too, from the way, you whimpered when he told you to get on the bed.

Good girl, he had said and he watched as your pupils swallowed all of the shades that make up your eyes.

Gripping the back of your thigh, thumb digging into your skin, he slides his tongue over you. Feeling you keen. Mastering you as though he’s read books on you. Hearing you drop curses like they’re full sentences, teasing and taunting, before he breaches you with a finger, then another, sliding them in and out as you moan.

It’s takes him a moment to realise his own hips are rocking against the bed, desperate for friction.

Because you’re incredible, beautiful, gorgeous.

From the sounds and how you look at him, to how you curl into his touch and say his name. His cock straining in his underwear, almost desperate to bury it inside of you—feel how warm you are wrapped around him. The thought willing him on as his nose catches your clit, his name dropping from your tongue as though it weighs something important.

And he can feel how close you are. It is punctuated by how your breath is hitching, remembering it well from the phone.

Your body craving what he’s doing to you—all tense because of him. Dangling, all set to fall and be flung over the edge. Pushing you closer and closer, your fingers tightening in his hair as he buries his tongue inside you, both hands keeping your thighs in place, and he’s waiting, bracing—

Then he hears it.

How you snap.

The way you spill his name from your swollen, lovely lips as he works you over the edge. Feeling it ripple through you, tasting it on his tongue as you spill into his mouth.

He expects you to need a minute, but you lift onto your elbows, eyes heated—all lust-filled, drunk on him. His tongue licking the taste from his fingers, watching your orbs darken before you pull him towards you.

You allow him a brief moment to take you in. His eyes spotting the way your collarbone glistens with sweat, your brow and forehead too. He’s unsure what he expects when your breaths die down, but it isn’t your interlocked fingers around his neck. It isn’t your lips crashing, slotting, forcing themselves against his as you pull down his underwear, wrap your legs around him and press your mouth to his ear:

Fuck me.

That’s what you whisper—more breath than syllables.

And you’re warm, under his palm and body—hot and searing, threatening to burn him alive. He is a man who thinks he deserves to be on a pyre, an array of guilt that is squashed down—built into the foundations of who he is here, back home and in Texas.

With you, he feels like something else. Someone whole. Better. Aware of his mistakes but confident he’s done time for them. Choosing, instead, to burn from your lustful gaze and the way you want him.

His fingers brush over your cheek, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. Show you how you’ve shaken his foundation—made it quake under your kind laugh and perfect smile. He could name more things—of all the ways you’re perfect.

But he hears your fingers finding something that crinkles, mouth pulling from him before your teeth rip it open—his lips curling into a smirk.

Wide eyes asking, without your tongue moving, “Do you want me to do it?”

He ascends. He’s sure he fucking does, anyway. Nodding, suddenly quiet—more quiet than Javi has ever known himself to be in this predicament.

Because usually, he’s a talker.

He’s the one who has someone on their knees, hand around the back of their neck as he makes their ass ripple.

But, you’re not them—and he isn’t who he used to be.

Your hand, all warm, smooth and silky, takes him, thumb brushing over his leaking tip as your other hand remains holding the rubber.

It’s never been like this.

Not when he was away, feeling things for those who’ll allow him to pretend; not back when he was younger, mind full of getting out of town.

This is heavenly, fucking everything. You’re something else entirely, mumbling about putting it on with your mouth next time.

Next time.

A sentiment his mind echoes in repetition when he lines up against you, another time I’d make you come again. But I need to be inside you.

And fuck, when he slides in, a voice screams in the back of his head at how your walls wrap around him, the sharp, sweet gasp you emit as he bottoms out inside of you.

You consume him.

Holding you, hand on your hip to keep you close, another around the back of your neck, feeling your breath dance along his chin and neck. It mixes with the moans he had mentally saved from the phone call, now stitching to the way your lashes flutter as he starts to move.

A few thrusts and he feels your nails cutting into his shoulders. His mouth leaves marks that your clothes will hide tomorrow as he stretches and ruins you, setting a pace that feels like bliss.

Dragging himself out, before filling you again—making your lips part, nothing escaping except a breath and his name.

And then you’re clenching around him, your body begging him, pleading for a second release as he pauses, groaning internally at his own teasing.

Dropping to his elbows, boxing you in, he latches his lips to yours. Your pleas bleed into his mouth as he slowly rolls his hips—not enough to push you over but keep you there.

“Please.”

“Please, what?”

Your mouth slid against his ear, pants falling in plenty. “Please, baby—please.”

His hands slide under your back, lifting you, sitting back on his knees. You’re in his lap. Fingers sliding up the back of your neck, face buried in your neck as he thrusts up into you—watching as your mouth parts, his name falling:

Javi. Javi. God, Javi.

He knows.

Fuck he knows.

“Baby, so close—I’m close—“

He knows that too.

Just like he knows how fucking good it is when you call him baby.

an: smut is not my skill, so forgive me. normal romcom, text, banter continue tuesday.

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crazycookies73307 · 9 months ago

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It's amazing just how much you're willing to do for someone when you like them.

In the romantic sense, I mean.

When you platonically like someone you'd do anything for them, as long as you're able to handle it.

When you romantically like someone, though? That's a whole different level we're talking about.

When you romantically like someone, you'd do anything for them, even if it's sometimes beyond your capabilities.

You might be drowning in your own sorrows, but their suffering always feels like a greater loss. So much so that you feel as though you'd bear their pains on top of your own, just so that they wouldn't have to.

You might find yourself terribly busy, but you always manage to make time for them. You might not know anything related to their interests, so despite being behind on just about everything else, you still somehow manage to learn about them.

Granted, all this is applicable to platonic love as well, but somehow, you felt that romantic love had a certain magical feel to it.

Maybe it was the influence of too many Disney movies, but who cares.

But in the same way, it was also amazing just how much you're not willing to do for someone who you don't like.

Again, in the romantic sense.

See, this is what you meant about the difference between platonic and romantic love. As far as life has worked out for you, when you romantically like someone, you'd find a way to give them the moon and when you just platonically like someone, you'd barely be willing to give them a polished pebble.

Or maybe, you just have shitty friends.

Correction, shitty friend.

You'd do anything for him, even it meant your own doom, but God forbid if the same applied to you.

Their messages were read as soon as they were delivered. Yours was left on delivered for a while.

They ask him for a favour, he'd do it. Granted, it would take a bit of convincing. But for you? Yeah, dream on.

Situations arose where you'd be partnered together. And more than half the time, you know he'd rather be paired with someone else. A certain someone else.

Unless your help was necessary, that is.

Somehow, you had the solutions for everyone's problems.

The advisor, the helper, the mother, the tutor, the therapist, the mentor.

It also sucked that you were an enigma for the rest. You somehow managed to stay on the top of your game despite taking on more and more.

But few knew of your disastrous tendency to procrastinate. Pair it with your perfectionistic attitude and it was a recipe for a disaster, the result being an extremely stressed, sleep deprived and caffeine high you.

You still pushed through, though.

Out of sheer spite and willpower, but still.

The fact was, that you were a busy person. And it's a universal truth that busy people are always stressed.

When you were a busy person with a stupid crush on a guy you know you've got zero chance with, it made your stress ten times worse.

It was as though the universe was against you.

The perfect guy, one who actually wasn't your type, but ended up redefining your idea of your ideal type to fit himself in.

The one guy who you knew, was not necessarily a bad match for you, personality wise anyways. Lord knows if there's anything else lurking beneath.

The one guy who managed to make your tough attitude melt into absolute nothing.

The one guy who managed to make you, who dreamt of lazy rainy evenings and warm tea , end up dreaming about the mushy stuff. Stuff you wouldn't normally dream about, not with a clear cut idea anyway, like your dates, hugs, talks, and even your marriage.

Especially your marriage.

The one guy who managed to break down a lot of your walls, the one guy you felt safe with, the one guy you knew you could trust openly, and you couldn't have him.

For reasons out of your control, you just weren't what he was looking for.

You were good enough to help him.

You were good enough to listen to his troubles.

You were good enough to be used as an excuse for when crap went sideways, because after all, you were trusted.

You were kind, after all. His words, not yours.

It's kind of embarassing, just how much you were willing to do for his sake, and just how little you expected him to do for you.

What you wanted were your thoughts, emotions and actions returned. What you received, was an entirely different matter.

He cared about her,worried about her, and for better or for worse, cried for her. To the extent that you sometimes wished you could stab yourself rather than to witness the scenes unfold.

If he was so capable of such emotions, so capable of freely expressing them, then why was it that he never even gave an ounce of it your way?

Were you worthy of the bare minimum effort? The bare minimum care?

Were you worth so little?

Was that it?

Was that why you were always, always one of the lowest of his priorities?

Maybe it was a you problem, maybe it had nothing to do with him.

But was it really?

Was it really your fault that he chose her over you, every single time?

Was it really your fault, when he made the choice to prioritise her needs over his own, and then come crying to you?

Was it really your fault, when he decided to play a dangerous game of chase with her, willingly allowing you to be the first hand witness to their game?

Was it really your fault, when despite you being there to help him out of his messes, especially regarding hers, he still went running to her for comfort?

They created the messes that you had to clean up.

They were the ones who made bad life choices and come running to you for advice.

They were the ones who were involved in the god forsaken game of cat and mouse, somehow dragging you into the middle of the mess.

They were the ones who forced you into a corner sometimes, with you being needed to cover for them, in the face of a lot of people.

They were the ones who had to be careful in their so-called games, but you were the one forced to enforce the said caution.

In their point of view, you were the villain in their story.

Always poking around, ruining a part of their fun.

But they also know that they were the ones who forced you into the role. That someone was needed to possess the common sense that they lacked. Of course, whether they listened to the said common sense was another matter entirely.

Granted, sometimes you enjoyed putting them in their places a bit too much.

Despite his devil may care attitude when it came to anyone other than her, you knew that he did care for you. You knew that he did consider you to be a friend. After all, you did spend a lot of time together for you to just be named an acquaintance.

It was just that his efforts towards you paled in comparison to those directed towards her.

It also didn't help that he trusted you enough that he knew you'd not betray him, or his feelings that even he himself was kind of oblivious about. It was obvious to you both that he had certain questionable feelings, definitely not of the platonic type, towards her but you knew him well enough to know he'd rather ignore them for the sake of his sanity. At the cost of your own, you admit.

You were the one he cried to about things related to her, you were the one who knew that he was actually completely whipped for her. Not that he was good at hiding it, just about everyone could see it. It was just that you were the only one who was aware of the extent of it.

Sometimes you were sick of playing the adult. Sometimes you wanted to shake him out of this stupid mess he called his feelings. Sometimes you wanted to scream at him, of how you wanted out.

Out of everything that you never wanted to get yourself into.

Sometimes, you wanted him to just get over himself and confess, after all, atleast then you didn't have to see him pine around for someone else.

The rest of the time you were content about being there for him, regardless of the toll it took on your emotions.

Something is better than nothing, right?

And while you were torturing yourself with their roundabout pining, you'd rather be the first to find out if they ever decided to commit. At least you could get the time to prepare your poor, poor heart for when you'd have to break the reality to it.

The same heart, that despite the torturous wait, still hoped that he'd look your way. That he'd find that what he was looking for all this while, was actually right next to him.

That your efforts would be rewarded.

They had to be, right?

No deity was cruel enough to let all those efforts, those feelings, those thoughts, those tears, be for nothing, right?

Your mind said otherwise, but your foolish heart stubbornly kept on believing.

You knew, heartbreak was the only outcome of this stupid situation that you'd gotten yourself into.

You just hoped that when the time came, they would be kind enough to break it cleanly into two, rather than shatter it completely into tiny pieces.

At least it would be easier to put it back together.

Hopefully, anyways.

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poetslastdeath · 9 months ago

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SAFE

———————————————

gn!reader x john price, slightly unhinged and very obsessed reader, they are down BADDDD

———————————————

the air is cold and heavy, whipping around you and biting at your skin sharply as rain pours from the dark sky above.

the only light that shines down on you two is a ray of moonlight and brushes over his cheek, wet and shiny with rain, and your gloved half bloody hands cupping his cheek.

paying no mind to the dead hostiles littering the ground, treating them casually like they are merrily pebbles to kick out of your way. you move forward, prices back presses harder against the stone brick wall, harshly pressing into his gear until he can feel it but pays it no mind.

lips against his, warm and slightly capped, his beard brushing against your face. you bite his lip, almost hoping it draws blood, you would get on your knees and savor every drop of his blood like it was salvation, like you were a broken devotee.

he lets out a noise, small and almost drowned out by the heavy sounds of rain, but you’re close enough to hear it, to savor it desperately. gripping him like he could die any moment.

he almost had. it was a close call, a simple almost harmless misstep, cornered with an empty barrel.

he would have died, he could have died, he could have died, you repeat over and over again maddeningly.

he could’ve if it wasn’t for the shattering of a window and a bullet finding its place right in the head of the hostile before it had even stepped into the room price was in.

you pull back, when he squeezes your waist so tight you think he might break his finger.

“price.” you mumble, grabbing his chin and forcing his head up to look at the dark moon sky only sparkled with stars that looks like flickering flames.

the warm press of a kiss against the skin of his jaw, then his neck. and to the astonishment of anyone else but you, he melts like hot wax in your hands.

he murmurs your name back, it echoes in your ears and you grip him tighter. his hand goes around to grip the back of your head, fingers tangled in wet hair.

your other hand travels down to press against the small of his back, under his soaked shirt and touching clammy skin with leather.

you mumble, “i would have killed them all. ripped out all of their throats for looking at you, thinking about you.” unworthy and yet granted privilege, you are.

his grip tightens, he leans his head down slightly to press and firm kiss to your head, a similar desperation that claws at your ribcage form your chest echoes in his own. he lets out a breathless chuckle, low and deep and half hysterical.

“mad, you are.” he breathes, there’s a certain affection weaved through his words, it sits warm around you. “fuckin hell.” he huffs, almost like he’s talking to himself.

there’s a pause, a moment only filled by the echoes of the night and the haunting sound of gunshots ringing through the empty bloody city even after all that’s left is two desperate bodies pressing against each other over the dead bodies that tried to take them from each other.

“yours.” you mumble, dropping your hand down to trail down his neck to his chest, over his heart. beating, echoing through your own body. “yours.”

if you could, you would drop down to your knees until they are bloodied and bruised, worship dripping off of your lips like honey, a promise. to follow him, forever, to the ends of the earth. you think the earth should thank him, that he wants to keep it clean, to save it. because if he even thought about it, you would burn the world. if only to see the flames reflected in his eyes.

“mine.” he echoes. and with the squeeze of his grip, you melt and all thoughts that aren’t him, the smell of cigar and ashes, the feel of his skin against yours, melt away with you.

yeah, his.

#john price x reader #john price #price x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mw3 #price x male reader #captain price #captain john price #price #cod price #price mw2

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uravitypng · 2 years ago

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𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐡𝐡, 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞

pairing: atsumu miya x chubby reader

word count: 1.2k

contents: somno, dubcon (reader is asleep), unprotected sex, praise, needy atsumu, he's just absolutely smitten with you - minors do not interact !! this is under a cut because it's longer than 1k asdfghj (that was not intended originally)

atsumu wakes up in the morning before you wake up and he's hard. it's a natural body function plus with your soft body wrapped around him who can blame him. atsumu blinks out the sleep in his eyes as he squeezes your body and brings you closer. these mornings are the perfect mornings for him, where he gets to watch you sleep and be close to you without you trying to hide away and get shy. he loves your cute face when you tell him off for looking at you to long but right now he gets to feast his eyes onto every single part of you.

atsumu brushes his thumb across your face, tucking your hair behind your ear as his thumb lingers on your lips. he can't help but smile as your body sinks more into his, seeking his body out and finding comfort in him even when you're asleep. this is meant to be just an innocent act but he can't help himself as he slowly pushes his thumb into your mouth, a groan filling the air as you enclose your mouth around him. his dick twitches as he feels your wet and warm mouth and he groans again as he decides he wants to have some fun.

he pulls his thumb out of your lips entranced by the string of saliva between your two bodies connecting. his other hand pushes up your tshirt, his tshirt, as he takes one of your breasts and plays with you. his thumb gently strokes your breasts, barely putting enough pressure and not touching you where you needed to be touched. he takes some amount of pity on you and pinches your nipple softly, making them pebble and shine with your own saliva. atsumu smirks as he grazes both your nipples making your breathing heavy.

he gets more greedy as he runs his hands as over your body, holding your plush stomach and kneading your thick hips. "fuck, yer so pretty sweetheart," atsumu whispers in your ear. he grinds his hips slowly, causing you to push back to him trying to get him to move more. atsumu grips hold of your hips making sure you don’t move in your sleep again and carries on gyrating, breathing heavily behind you. he can’t hold back anymore, he’s addicted to your body, your smell, the way you feel, you. he just needs to be in you. he can't hold himself back as he pulls off his minimal clothes he slept in slowly as not to wake you up.

he knows for a fact that you only wear one of his shirts to bed, you say they feel comfortable.

however, the first time atsumu asked you to wear some of his clothes you felt nervous and insecure, you knew that he loved you but you're bigger than him and you thought his clothes wouldn't fit the way he expected it to, it wouldn't drown you and make you look small, atsumu kept giving you those pleading eyes and you decided you would try it, just for him. you tried on one of his tshirts and refused to look in the mirror knowing you'd change your mind and take it off, you wanted to make atsumu happy. you both knew that even if you decided you didn't want to try it on he'd understand and still be happy because he's with you but you've never been one to go back on what you said so you refused to look at your reflection and find atsumu and stand in front of him. looking down, staring at the floor and twiddling your fingers you waited until you heard your boyfriends reaction.

"holy fuck," you turned you head up to see him as he tripped over the couch in his way to get closer to you, he caught himself but you couldn't help but smile, you were glad you tried on tshirt. "shit, holy fuckin' shit, only wear my clothes from now on, 'kay? ya look so fuckin' good sweetheart." you giggled as you felt his hands grab hold of your hips.

"don't i look a bit-" atsumu cut you off with a kiss grinning at you wildly, his pupils dilated and eyelids heavy.

"''m not gonna let anyone be mean to my girlfriend, not even herself." you giggled as atsumu unapologetically kept his eyes on your body. "god, ya look so hot, yer so beautiful. it clings to ya in all the right places sweetheart. fuck. i wanna fuck ya right now, can i? can i sweetheart? need ya s' bad."

after that day you were more comfortable wearing his clothes knowing how much he liked them on you and you only ever wear his clothes around the house now. they really were comfortable and they grew on you as atsumu always did assure you how hot you looked in them. so it really was beneficial right now as atsumu knew that there was now no barrier separating you both after he took off his clothes as he gently starts lifting and bending your knee. gingerly he pushes himself into you, making sure he doesn't hurt you. groaning for the third time tonight he presses even closer to you, trying to soak up more of your body heat and your soft body.

you start waking up and mumbling at the movement. "sshhh, sweetheart, go back to sleep f'r me, i've got ya, get some rest," he says while stroking your hair. you drift back off to sleep, comfortable in atsumu's arms as he gently thrusts in and out of you. you start making little pretty noises in your sleep and atsumu just needs to hear more. he kisses down your neck and soft jaw, anywhere that isn't covered by clothes he's got his mouth on, placing hot kisses all over you. he holds onto your sides and massages your breasts, teasing your nipples making you moan in your sleep causing him to smirk, he can't help himself to do it more.

he places one hand on your pudgy stomach as he watches your body softly jiggle in time with his movements as your body rolls are squished closer together as he bends your knee higher up to see your pretty pussy shallow his cock. he can't help but salivate at the sight. his thrusts get more deliberate as he gets closer to his climax, he grips your love handles and moves quicker, still trying to be considerate at not waking you up. he hears you mumble tsumu in your sleep and that pushes him over the edge, burying his cock into you as far as he can, spilling into you. he desperately needs to always feel your pretty plush body and right now is no different as he smiles at you as he closes his eyes, bringing you even closer to him and snuggling up together as he goes back to sleep for another couple of hours still inside of you.

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philistiniphagottini · 4 months ago

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Oh my gods it's been a hot minute since I popped in. How are you doing love? I hope your days going well. Ive been pretty busy so I haven't had a chance to drop by. May please request from demon slayer Rengoku x chubby reader whos also a fighter but a little spicy? 😈 Man's is giving off vibes of praising, body worship, and a heavy breeding kink in my opinion. Please indulge yourself and me. Go feral my friend >:3 please and thank you 💙

Hi Meri! I'm so happy to see you, thanks for popping in. I'm doing mostly okay, I hope you have been well. And thank you for the request, I'm so happy that you keep coming back and supporting me. Thanks for indulging me, I hope you enjoy :D

cw. smut, penetrative sex, praise, body worship, breeding kink, female reader, chubby reader, MDNI

You could barely think; scarcely breathe under the insistent press of Rengoku’s searing body on top of yours. A salacious moan tickled the back of your throat as he bumped his hips into yours, thrusting his achingly hard cock deeper into your fat pussy. You whined and twisted between the sweat soaked sheets beneath you, fingers knotting in his wild mane of flaming locks as heat coiled in the pit of your stomach.

"Ahh, Ren~" you whined, choking on a hiccup of pleasure.

Rengoku hummed in response to your soft coos, spit soaked lips parted around moans of your name as it rolled around his mouth and warmed his parched throat like sticky sweet honey. Your trembling legs were pushed higher, knees pressing into the pillowy softness of your chest as your pebbling nipples brushed against your clammy skin, sending pleasant tingles to ripple along the curve of your arching back. Rengoku’s strong hands curled around your plump thighs, calloused fingers sinking into generous amounts of flesh until the soft pudge spilled between the splayed digits. The erotic sight made him grind into your harder. The tips of your ears burned red hot as your long, soused lashes fluttered over your flaming cheeks, another wanton moan crawling out of your throat as his cock sank deeper inside of you. Your dripping pussy swallowed around his dizzyingly thick girth, your insides turning to mush around the shape of his cock as beads of slick rolled down your sticky thighs.

Your pretty cunt drooled around him as you felt him moving intimately beneath your soft belly, your nails clawing at the nape of his neck as your shuddering hips tried to match the ferocity of his eager thrusts. The hot coil twisting inside of your knotted tighter, the swollen nub of your clit aching and squealing in delight from the sparking friction of Rengoku’s pelvis clapping into the exposed nerve. You struggled to prevent your eyes from rolling into the back of your skull, your head stuffed full with so much cotton you could barely form a coherent thought, let alone sentence. Your pussy squeezed around Rengoku as he slipped deeper, brushing up against the soft, gummy patch inside of you that had stars swirling in your vision.

"Good girl" Rengoku cooed, his voice just a tad too loud rattling in your ears. "You’re doing so well, little cherub."

His words made your pussy slobber over him, pearls of your arousal dripping down the sides of his cock as he split apart the creamy folds of your silky lips with each hard thrust of his hips. A constellation of tears clung to the edges of your lashes, your body trembling along with the shaking bed frame as your combined noises of pleasure echoed around your stuffy bedroom. Rengoku refused to stifle himself, especially when you made him feel so good it felt like a vessel inside his head was ready to burst. His loud and gruff voice almost drowned out your own sweet cries of rapture, the wet sound of skin slapping against skin making your blood simmer hotly in your veins. Your toes curled into the soles of your feet as the weeping head of his cock kissed your cervix, your arousal webbing between your bodies joined in fervid rapture as your body teetered on the edge of the crumbling precipice. You dug your fingers into the hard muscles of his back, feeling them flex under your touch as his cock carved a path deeper into your plush walls. You whined loudly; pussy clenching tight as you peeled your tongue off the roof of your mouth long enough to spit the words out that were lodged in the back of your throat.

"Ren…fuck…I’m so close" you cried with a heady slur. "Please cum inside me. Want your cum. Breed my pussy. Put a baby in me."

Your babbles were cut short as he caught your lips in a bruising kiss, teeth and tongue lashing at the plump seam of your lips as the pace of his hips became erratic. He purred in content as you continued to whine, the thought of your soft belly round with his child sending his senses into a complete frenzy. You lazily sucked on his tongue as his hands pawed at your sumptuous body, worshiping every inch of you as words of praise were breathed into your mouth and you swallowed it along with the budding saliva on your tongue. Your head was spinning, heart beat wavering in your ears as your lungs pinched in your chest. Your feet dangled uselessly over Rengoku’s shoulders as the thick head of his cock squished against the opening of your womb, a deep chuckle breezing past his lips as you screamed with rapture.

"That’s it pretty girl" he cooed with a dopey grin. "Just lay there and let me breed your pussy~"

Your ears burned from the filthy talk, nails leaving behind crescent shaped welts along his back as you held on for dear life. You screamed loudly as the coil in your stomach shattered in a million fragments, flooding your veins with white hot relief that made the tips of your fingers go numb. Fireworks erupted in your stomach as the warm hug of your pussy squeezed around Rengoku tighter, your slick juices spilling forth and coating his strong thighs with threads of translucent fluid. Rengoku groaned hotly as your pussy milked him, coaxing him into his own heady rush as he buried himself to the hilt inside your sopping pussy. You mewled with delight as thick ropes of white spilled into you, your abdomen tingling as you continued to ride the pleasure high. His cock kicked with each heavy spurt of cum, filling your insides with warmth until some of it started to drip out in thick rivulets.

Rengoku’s rhythm started to taper off as he kissed your hot cheeks, stemming the flows of your crystalline tears of pleasure as he circled his hips, cock still hard and throbbing as he filled you with another sticky load into your chubby pussy. You felt pleasantly helpless beneath him as your greedy pussy twitched and spasmed around his cock, determined to milk every last drop. The warmth overflowed and dribbled down your quaking thighs, your pussy still clenching tight around Rengoku's cock as it kept your centre plugged and stuffed full. His hard pants mingled with your own laboured breathing as he slowly placed your shaky legs back to the mattress. He brushed strands of damp hair off your face as he leaned forward, his forehead bumping against yours as your noses touched. His hand fondly stroked your round stomach as you purred in content beneath him, hands rubbing soothing circles into the notches of his spine. It was quiet and peaceful; a moment of shared bliss as your senses slowly crawled back to you.

A noise of surprise stirred in Rengoku’s throat as you wrapped your plump thighs around his hips and suddenly flipped your positions. His body bounced as he hit the mattress with a dull thud, your plump body nestling on top of him as you sat down on his cock with a little wriggle of your hips. You rested your hands on his chest as you trapped him beneath the luscious curves of your body, his thunderous heartbeat pulsing beneath your fingers as you drummed them along his clammy skin. His hands came to rest upon your plush thighs as you blinked down at him with doe eyes, ears perked up as a soft smile tilted your lips.

"Wanna do it again?" you asked, a hint of hopeful eagerness in your voice.

Rengoku’s boisterous laughter filled the air, followed by your delighted giggles as you were rocked in his lap.

#my writing #request #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #demon slayer x reader smut #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #rengoku smut #x reader #fem!reader #x chubby reader #nsft

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