#idk about smut

[hellcheerficdatabase]

What I Didn't Know Before

Author: @evanspotters

Rating/Warning: Teen and up audience

Chapter Count: 4/?

Description: It's December of 1985, and Chrissy Cunningham needs something stronger for an entirely different reason.

Tags: alternate universe- no vecna, figure skater!Chrissy, Eddie works at a record shop, Chrissy needs a hug, Eddie is gone for Chrissy, Chrissy knows Spanish, falling in loveeee, strangers to friends to lovers, Eddie has lowkey rizz, fluff, idk about smut, alternating POV, multiple chapters, status: WIP

[bi-writes]

thinking about fucking your lieutenant without taking any of your clothes off. (18+)

let's get one thing straight--it's not that you don't want to take your clothes off. it's that ghost doesn't.

he hasn't gotten over it. you're not sure what it is, but you felt it when you tried to put your hands under his tact vest for the first time--the tension of his body, the flinch that had you pulling your hands back as if your touch had burned him. you drool over your lieutenant, you have fucked yourself to stupidity many nights just thinking about him, but you don't want to cross any lines.

you did the mature thing--you asked. you asked him what it would take. what he might let you do. what he might be comfortable with. he swallows, voice low and gravelly, and he tells you that you can do whatever you want with him, but he doesn't want to take anything off.

fuck it, you think. suit yourself.

you can't help the noises. you're throwing your hips back, hands braced against the bedframe as you straddle your commanding officer. ghost is underneath you, knees propped up and boots planted flat on the bed, and he has his gloved hands rooted to your hips as you fit yourself right over his middle and bounce. it's a lot of effort to get off this way. with the added layers of clothes, you really have to put your back into it to get any stimulation on your clit, but once you found that sweet spot, the tip of his cock nudged against you just right, you found the momentum to give it to him good.

"fuck--" ghost chokes. you're so hot. your shirt is bunched up a little around your waist, and the neckline has dropped, and he's watching your tits bounce with your grinding hips as you chase your orgasm. he could tell you were close. as soon as you dragged your clit over the fat tip of him and found it, you became a fiend. your pace picked up, and he squeezed your ass with appreciation, and he couldn't look away from your tits, but he was sure you were wetting his cargos even fully-clothed.

"'m gonna come," you whine, and ghost fits his hand between your ass and squeezes, appreciating the fat of you as you show him just how good you'd ride his cock. your hips are working so hard, smooth, quick grinds that make his eyes roll back in his head.

"yeah? tha' good, innit?"

"oh--gonna come, gonna come--"

"give it t'me--"

you're shaking. you drop your weight on him, seeing stars, and you're buzzing with a dopey smile as you slow your hips. you kiss him through the mask, sticking your tongue out and licking over where his lips are before kissing him nice and sloppy.

when he turns you over, you just watch as he lowers himself down your body. with wide eyes, you're enraptured by the way he shoves your legs apart. he gazes down at you, mesmerized to see a wet spot on your cargos, and he hums before hiking the mask up over his nose and licking over his teeth.

"w-wait, ghost, what are you--ah!"

you jerk when a fat glob of his spit hits the seam of your zipper. he does it again, soaking the fabric, and you can't do anything but throw your head back and whine as he opens his mouth wide and shoves his face between your thighs.

it's really not so scary anymore. and now he needs the real thing.

[peachsukii]

content // bakugo + reader are married (26/27). talks of children/pregnancy. semi-breeding kink. intoxicated dirty talk.

Imagining that the annual Hero Gala is the perfect place for Bakugo to let loose once a year, celebrating with his colleagues about their success and knocking back endless drinks without hesitation. It's the only time he allows himself to truly let go. It's time to go home when his hands can't stop wandering your form in front of everyone.

You're barely through the door of your home before his hands are hiking up your dress and pressing your back to the door, begging to let him make a mess of you.

"C'mon baby," Bakugo slurs while messily sucking on your exposed collarbone, pressing his groin against your thigh to let you how badly he wants you. "Need'ta taste you...feel you."

Whenever he gets like this, it's all give give give, never take. Bakugo becomes obsessed with pleasuring you, and only you. He doesn't even take himself into account, too love drunk and lust driven to care about his own release. But tonight? Bakugo's got a new agenda in mind, thanks to Mina and Kirishima's talks of starting a family earlier that night. All it took was Mina to casually say, "She'd make such a perfect mom, don't you think?" while gesturing to you across the room.

And goddamn, it consumed him whole.

"Wanna make you a momma, gorgeous," he mumbles against the shell of your ear as he slides his fingers seamlessly into your panties. Your thighs clench, a soft whine falling from your lips when two fingers slip between your slick covered folds. "Mm, ya like the sound'a that? You're soaked."

Bakugo's laugh is sinister before licking along your jawline and crashing into a heated kiss, whiskey lingering on his tongue. He pulls away, fingers pumping languidly into your pussy, a string of saliva connecting the two of you before whispering against your lips.

"Gonna stuff that pretty cunt'a yours full of my cum an' fuck it into you all night long. Eat it out of ya and fill you up all over again." He stops to lick at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth with a loud pop to leave you gasping for breath. "Fuck you so deep that you'll be leakin' cum for weeks."

Holy shit. You could faint on the spot.

"F-fuck Katsuki...bedroom, now."

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Can I ask for a first time (iykyk) with tenjiku? Where reader is a bit shy at first but man she kinky af on the insideee

Tenjiku x Shy!Virgin!->Kinky!Reader

♡ NSFW, fem reader, fluff kinda, virginity loss obviously, virgin!Shion, soft sex -> kinky shit, rough sex/manhandling, overstimulation, creampie/breeding kink, cum play/cum drinking, daddy kink, saliva/spit play, tongue kissing, size kink/belly bulging, degradation, biting ♡

Characters: Izana, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou, Mucho, Mochi, Shion, Hanma

note: anon you ate real bad with this idea, I'm so sorry I procrastinated so hard with this 😭 I should be ashamed of myself fr

edit: added Hanma for @sayaka-ur-cutie

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Izana (breeding kink)

🎴 Izana is surprisingly gentle at first, he wants to make your first time as pain free as possible. But as soon as he feels you thrusting your hips against his and basically fucking him back, he's gone, eyes rolled back and everything (I believe in extra sensitive!Izana). It also didn't help that you were whining for him not to pull out, the mere thought of cumming inside you had him seeing stars. He spent the rest of the night fucking, filling, and overstimulating you.

Kakucho (cum play)

🩷 Kakucho literally makes the sweetness love to you, and it's not until after that he finds out how freaky you really are. After he pulls out and takes the condom off, he's shocked (and aroused) to see you take it out of his hand and raise it to your lips, swallowing every drop of his cum from it. He's standing there for a solid minute or two just staring at you before finally mustering up the courage to politely ask you if you want more.

Ran (daddy kink)

💜 Ran knows it's your first time, so he's going nice and slow with you...up until you call him daddy. He doesn't even say anything, he just smirks because he knew you were an undercover freak. He starts going slower, trying to make you whine and beg for him. He'll only speed up again if you call him daddy again though.

Rindou (spit play)

🩵 Rindou loves the way you hide your face when he starts fucking you, he thinks it's cute that you're so shy. You're a lot less shy by the time he finds the perfect rhythm though, your hands roaming all over his body as he pounds into your pussy. Eventually your hands find their way to his hair, tangling in his locks and pulling him into a kiss. He thinks it's just a sweet little kiss and it was, until you slipped your tongue in his mouth. He just couldn't help but moan into the kiss before sliding his tongue into your mouth in return. And he definitely picked up on the way you clenched around him when his spit mixed with yours and started dripping down your lips and chin. He found your weakness, so expect him to exploit it to the fullest extent from now on.

Mucho (size kink)

💙 Mucho didn't think much of it when you mentioned how big he was, he knew you were just stating the obvious and probably a little nervous since you were a virgin. But when he kept hearing you say it in between the occasional moan or whimper while he was fucking you, that's when he realized just how much the difference in size turned you on. And he definitely didn't mind, if anything he started doing things to make the size difference more obvious. He grabbed your thighs and pressed your legs closer to your body, making you bend in ways you didn't know you could. He manhandled you, touching you with more force to show off his strength. But his new favorite thing was pressing his hand against the prominent bulge in your tummy, chuckling softly as you moaned and writhed in pleasure underneath him.

Mochi (degradation)

🍡 Mochi knew it was your first time, so he was extra careful not to hurt you...physically anyways. You just looked so cute underneath him, he couldn't help but tease you a little. Whispering dirty praises in your ear, telling you how good of a slut you were for him. He'd totally understand if you weren't into it, but the smile on his face when he felt your pussy gripping him tighter gave away the absolute delight he felt in knowing that you were just as nasty as him.

Shion (biting)

♥️ Shion took his sweet time when he took your virginity, mainly because he was a virgin too and wanted your first time together to be special. He gently thrusted in and out of you with his face buried in the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses all over. All his gentle efforts went out the window when he felt your teeth sinking into his shoulder though. He had an almost visceral reaction to the bite, letting out a gasping moan and gripping your thighs tighter as he slowed down his thrusts, trying desperately not to cum inside you. He didn't know how to react, so he did what his body told him to and gently bit you back, his dick twitching inside you as he heard you let out a soft whimper. You two spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, fucking gently and nipping at each other's skin.

Hanma (rough sex)

🏵️ Hanma knew you were a virgin and was fully prepared to be gentle with you, at least at first. As soon as he bottomed out in you he knew damn well he wasn't going to be gentle the entire time. And your soft moans and the way you begged him to go harder only spurred him on. By the end of the night he was balls deep in your pussy with no intentions of ever being gentle in the bedroom again.

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe

[adieutristana]

vanity; jinx x fem! reader

loosely inspired by this fic by @moshuka.

summary; jinx used her looks to flirt her way out of a situation. her girlfriend isn’t happy.

characters included; jinx

tags/warnings; nsfw, porn w (some) plot, sub!jinx, dom!reader, brat!jinx, mirror sex, rough sex, strap-on use, strap-on referred to as a dick/cock, hair pulling, crying, humiliation ig?, slight degradation, use of the word ‘whore’, size queen jinx, squirting

men and minors dni.

at first, you were worried.

jinx tends to get herself into dangerous situations more often than not, way too often for her own good. it's what she's known for, after all. jinx: the mad bomber. the loose cannon. zaun's princess.

but she has a way of getting herself out of those situations. her reflexes are impeccable, her strength nearly inhuman for someone of her stature. it is inhuman, considering the shimmer coursing through her veins. weapons that she's built herself regularly save her in battle, and most of all, she's got a smartass mouth.

one that usually comes in handy, but clearly not this time.

"jinx," you start. your arms are crossed over your chest, one hip popped. you're trembling in frustration- coming apart at the edges. "i heard you were flirting with some guy who cornered you. i'm gonna be graceful and hear you out."

she bristles, and the girl's breath catches.

"what i do depends on if i like what you have to say."

you'd heard from passersby on the streets gossiping about what jinx had done. nothing stays a secret for long in zaun; there's almost always a witness, someone who can't keep their mouth shut. people love to gossip, and with that, they love to twist the truth.

so you're hoping to janna above that what you'd heard was a simple rumor. jinx being cornered by one of smeech's goons. a new one, a guy seemingly too good for the likes of this line of work. apparently not. he'd threatened jinx, gotten close to her, nearly hurt her. but instead of her usual solution of whipping out her gun and pressing the cold barrel to someone's neck as a warning, she'd flirted.

told the guy that he's young, attractive, promising. he's too good for a business like this. if he'd just leave her alone, she'd let him go without any fuss, and there would be no mess to clean up. maybe they'd even cross paths again someday.

"i didn't mean any of it, toots," her hands are raised in a mock-surrender. "he was ugly, honest!"

"i didn't ask if he was ugly," you bite. you're inching closer to her, until your noses are nearly touching. the tone in your voice tells jinx you're not fucking around- yet that makes this all the more exciting for her. "i asked you to tell me what happened."

"i didn't do anything, just flirted a little. no harm done."

"you have a gun. why didn't you use that?" you push.

jinx huffs, rolling her eyes. it only serves to piss you off even more. "i just wanted to switch it up, yanno? try something new. and it worked, didn't it? didn't have to spill any blood or nothin'. no cleanup."

"so what i heard is true?"

"depends what you heard."

"oh, you-"

that's it. you take jinx's wrist, and just about drag her to her cot. she's giggling all the way, that signature shit-eating grin plastered on her face. you wish there was blood to clean up. although you know nothing happened- jinx wouldn't dream of being unfaithful to you, this feels calculated. like she'd done it on purpose, just to get under your skin. she was probably sitting in her hideout, just waiting for someone to start talking.

you want nothing more than to slap that grin off of her, make her grovel and apologize and make it up to you.

but you won't. with a quick motion, jinx is flung onto her cot. she gasps, but doesn’t move from her sitting position, doesn’t stop fucking grinning.

"come oooon! you're always telling me i'm soooo pretty. i’m like a work of art.” she comes to lazily toss around the end of one of her braids, playing with it the same way she’s playing with you. “maybe i just wanted to use that to my advantage.”

gods damn it.

you come to stand closer to jinx, looming over the girl. she’s still sitting on her cot, nice and pretty. she looks so innocent, so sweet, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she actually was. too bad you do know better. your forefinger and thumb grasp her chin, forcing her to look at you. your thumb lazily traces along her plump bottom lip.

“oh, you’re pretty, alright.” your thumb pushes past her lips, flattening against her tongue. “gorgeous, even. but that doesn’t mean you go around using those looks like a fucking whore.”

jinx would be smiling right now, but her mouth is… occupied, not sucking, not licking at your thumb, but letting you do what you must. you withdraw it as quickly as it was put in, wiping her spit on her bare shoulder.

“you’re all talk,” she gasps. “not gonna do a damn thing about it, are you?”

“do you want me to?”

“sure.”

“do you deserve it?”

“does it matter?”

it’s then that you flip her onto her stomach.

“take those clothes off. get back on the cot- face down, ass up. i’ll be back.”

no time is wasted walking to another platform in her hideout and swiping the shattered mirror from one of her tables, and a strap-on from one of her drawers.

you place the mirror directly in front of jinx’s cot, and to no surprise, jinx is completely bare now. her perfect heart of an ass in the air, pussy nearly glistening in the dim light with her arousal. she’s braced herself on her hands, and she isn’t moving, but you can tell by the way her arousal is already dripping down her inner thighs that she’s eager.

it’s a sight straight out of a porn film. the mad bomber, desperate and wanton. maybe you’ll buy a polaroid camera for next time, really capture the moment.

“ugh, toots, are you just gonna stand there, or are ya gonna fuck me?” she whines, only interrupted by the sound of the harness fastening around your hips.

“you’re not exactly in a place to make demands right now.”

you lean over her, your breasts pushing into the smooth skin of her back and your lips almost touching her ear.

“‘revolver’, if it gets too much.” you whisper.

and with that, the tip pushes past her folds. bright pink and dusted with glitter, about 8.5in and girthy. a large task for a small girl, but jinx insists she can take anything you give her.

“hngh- fuck!” she whines out, already beginning to buckle. you’ve got one hand rested on jinx’s hip, the other trailing down her side- her shoulder, the grooves of her ribs, her tiny waist, until it finds purchase on her other hip and you push into her.

another lewd cry falls from her lips. you’re barely even halfway in, and she’s already panting and moaning so pitifully. maybe another day you would’ve taken pity on jinx, but not after the shit she pulled.

“come on,” you coo. “can’t take it?”

“i didn’t- agh, say that-” she pants. the girl’s form is beginning to tremble, but you don’t waver. you ram the rest of the toy into her hole, which brings a borderline pathetic wail from her. the way her greedy hole is impaled by your cock is a sight you wish you could burn into your mind. if she were on her back, you bet you'd be able to see it from inside her stomach, but that can wait for another time.

“fuck- fuck! too big!”

“too big, huh? should’ve thought about that before you went and threw yourself at some guy.”

you ease the strap out of her, before slamming it back in. positively prying your girlfriend open. you then take one of jinx’s long twin braids in your hands, looping it once around your wrist and yanking. forcing her to look up.

she gasps with the motion, yet somehow, she still has the willpower to defy you. squeezing her eyes shut and grunting. you jerk her braid farther back, jinx hissing at the stinging pain.

“look at yourself.” you demand.

it’s then that you move. a slow pace at first, in, out, in, out. drawing wet squelches from her cunt with every thrust. she’s shaking and thrashing and whining, but you can’t deny the way jinx’s cunt sucks you in, clenches around you. greedy and sopping, as if it was made to take your dick.

“aah, hhhng- oh! oh!”

your pace is quickening, and you can hear the skin of your hips slapping into her ass. jiggling ever so slightly with each movement, but the best thing is the mirror.

there’s multiple images of the scene in the shattered glass. the sight is something right out of a dirty magazine; you pounding jinx’s poor, abused pussy from behind. jinx struggling to support her upper body despite her strength, you tugging at one of her braids and forcing her to look directly at her reflection. small tits bouncing with each thrust, plump lips open and the slightest bit of drool dribbling down her chin.

“do you see it?” you pant, the base of the toy nudging your clit with each thrust. “the- hah, way you look right now? while i’m fuckin’ you?”

“yes,” she breathes out, her voice a high shrill. her strength is starting to fail her, shaking on her arms and eventually dropping down to her elbows to support herself. a smirk tugs at your lips at the sight, seeing jinx being broken down so quickly. she brought this on herself, really.

"f-fuck, you look a mess," snapping your hips against jinx's, pathetic whimpers and whines falling from parted lips like a stream. "feels good, huh?"

"feels- hmmph, so good!" she groans. her body is being forced forward and back ever so slightly with each motion, and to see herself being fucked in real time is both thrilling and downright humiliating. jinx never knew this is what she looked like, so wrecked and sloppy, but she can't be bothered to care right now. all she can care about is you fucking into her relentlessly.

arousal dripping down her inner thighs, a stinging sensation in her scalp while you hold onto her hair. she knew you'd get jealous if she flirted- expected a thorough spanking, maybe, or for you to sit on her face and use her mouth until you were satisfied. never did jinx think you'd force her into a front-row seat to her own punishment.

“you’re not gonna do that again- mm,” you groan, base rubbing against you so right. “are you? hngg- tell me you won’t.”

“i won’t, i won’t! unghh, i’m sorry!”

she nearly screams out. the pleasure is mounting, it’s painful, she’s being stretched open and almost split down the middle. but it’s so fucking delicious, the feeling of you fucking her so thoroughly. so deeply. tears are beginning to well in her eyes, her mascara already running down her cheeks. it’s filthy. the tip of the plastic dick kisses her cervix with each thrust, coated in sleek juices.

"oh- oh, please," she breathes out. her bangs are sticking to the thin sheen on her forehead, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. "pleasepleaseplease-"

there it is. jinx is close, that much is obvious from her flushed expression, her straining against your grip, trying to push her hips back onto your cock like some needy slut. your own climax is building, but you want- need to see jinx get there first.

you reach underneath her with your free hand and press against her neglected clit, which draws a high-pitched squeal from jinx. you revel in the sound. right now, it’s as if jinx is an instrument, fine-tuned for your playing. making these beautiful, obscene sounds.

you can see hot tears running down her face in the mirror, lips parted and the pale expanse of her neck bared. her lipstick is smeared from the dribble running down her chin, and thin black streaks run down her cheeks.

“i’m- i’m gonna-!”

the girl doesn’t have time to finish her sentence before she squirts over your hand and the cot beneath her- coating you in light pink. she’s boneless, panting beneath you, collapsing as soon as you pull out of her and release her braid. she can’t muster up any words, she’s spent- laid on her stomach, sniffling and simply trying to breathe.

maybe next time, she won’t be so fucking vain.

[kentofic]

Eyes on me - Nanami Kento x f!reader

absolute pwp 18+ MDNI — cw: dry humping, oral, overstimulation, praise, throat fucking, a needy brat of a reader, and just all around self-indulgent filth

Fuck the euphemisms and the beating around the bush. You’re horny. You’ve been clenching your thighs all day at work. You’ve been indulging in dirty daydreams that always end in you bent over a desk. You’ve been doing kegels just to feel something.

But Kento is holed up in his office, ignoring you.

You pace back and forth in front of the door to his home office. You figure you should leave him be. He already hates overtime, and he’s probably in a rotten mood. But you’ve had such a long day, and you’re so wound up now, you won’t get through even the coldest shower without breaking and touching yourself. And to be fair, you’re usually fine with touching yourself. But right now, you need to be touched by him.

“I can hear you clomping around out there.”

You stop in your tracks, grimacing. You hear Kento sigh before he says, “You can come in.”

You open the door a sliver and peek in to see Kento with his head propped up in one hand, the other poised over a pile of documents. Still working, as you thought. And a full hour past quitting time, which explains why his brow is pinched with annoyance.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asks, eyes locked on yours.

“I was, uh…lonely. Just wanted to see you,” you grin sheepishly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. He says nothing for a moment, just looks you over with those sharp, observant eyes. Those eyes that burn through you, pooling molten warmth in your gut. You fidget under the weight of his gaze and squeeze your thighs together, trying not to look as desperate as you feel.

“Hmm,” Kento murmurs, sitting back in his chair with a wry smile. “Lonely isn’t the word I would use.”

You stiffen, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s right, but hey. “Well, what word would you use then?” you huff, bottom lip poked out in a pout. He smirks.

“Needy.”

You splutter for a moment, caught. You try to explain it away, tripping over your words, while Kento observes you with an amused smile.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he interrupts you once he’s had his fill of your stammering, eyes glittering with mirth. He pats his thighs, his slacks stretched deliciously taut over the thick muscle. “Come here.”

Your heart swells, embarrassment forgotten. You rush over with the intent of clambering into his lap. He stops you for a moment, holding you at arm’s length as he smooths your hair out of your face. You’re so pent up that even that innocent action makes you want to whimper. But his smile has tempered back to a serious expression, so you bite back your desperation and try to show him you’re listening.

“I need to get these papers sorted tonight,” he says. You frown, and he sighs. “I know, I don’t want to do them either, but they need to get done. It shouldn’t take long. If you can be good and occupy yourself until I’m finished, then…”

He trails off for a moment, grazing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your nerves buzz at the short, tender contact. “Then I’ll take care of you. Understood?”

Heat unfurls at the base of your stomach. “Understood,” you salute, overeager. He chuckles.

Kento leans back to make room for you. You settle yourself in his lap, facing him, hooking your legs over his hips and pressing yourself to his broad, warm chest. He’s so tall, it’s easy enough for him to hook his head over your shoulder and keep working. You press your face into his shoulder and breathe in the fresh, familiar scent of his aftershave. You should feel calm, content, like you often do when he holds you like this. Instead you just feel even more hot and bothered, and you can’t help but want to fidget and find some friction against him.

Kento said to be good. But he also said you could occupy yourself. And then he let you climb onto his lap. So, really, hasn’t he given you permission to occupy yourself… using his lap?

A little rub wouldn’t hurt, you reason. It might help ease the sharp burn of desire between your legs—reduce the tension that has you all strung out. He already knows that you’re all worked up. You’re just taking care of yourself until he can do it for you. Yeah, you think, a little rubbing would be fine.

You shuffle your hips against him experimentally, holding your breath for a reaction. Kento does shut down your bratty antics from time to time. But he doesn’t stir, doesn’t chide you, just keeps scratching away at whatever documents he’s tending to. You shift your hips down again, more deliberately—it can’t be mistaken for repositioning. Still, he says nothing. So you shift forward again, and this time you fully grind down with the pressure you need. The friction is delicious, and a little moan bubbles up from your throat.

You feel Kento’s hand come up to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing against the sensitive spot under your ear. You freeze, a pleasant shiver running through you. He hasn’t scolded you, but his gentle grip on your neck makes you feel like he wants you to ask.

“Kento,” you mumble into his shoulder, “…Is this okay?”

“Is what okay, my love?” he replies, seemingly indifferent—as if his warm hand isn’t smoothing down the length of your back before stopping to grasp at the soft flesh of your hip. You let out a shaky breath as you shudder.

“…R-Rubbing myself on you? While I wait,” you say in a soft rush of air. You press your face into his neck, cheeks prickling with warmth.

Kento lets out a slow, measured exhale and squeezes your hip. He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling and so obviously pleased.

“Do as you like, sweetheart.”

You hear him pick up his pen again, but his non dominant hand keeps a firm grip on your hip. You feel his promise to take care of you seared into you with each pad of his fingers.

You start grinding down on him again, building a rhythm. It feels so good— the pressure and friction and warmth of him against you, even through layers of fabric. You feel him start to harden beneath you, and you smile to yourself. Even if his mind is occupied with silly paperwork, Kento’s body belongs to you and only you.

A wicked little idea starts to take form in your mind.

You let soft, deliberate sounds of pleasure spill from your lips as you grind into Kento’s steadily growing erection. You pant as you rock against him, fanning warm breath across his neck with each exhale, your lips just barely brushing his skin. You relish in how your usually unflappable lover stiffens, your soft lips and sweet little sounds curling a shudder down his spine. You don’t push it too far—you agreed to be good after all. But you dance up to the line, feeling equal parts giddy and greedy.

Emboldened by Kento’s small reactions, you slowly swirl your hips the way you know he loves, and you let out a breathy sigh of his name. You feel the muscles of his neck tense, and he clears his throat. You think he might finally chide you, but he doesn’t. Wordlessly, he reaches between you to readjust his cock so it isn’t pinned to the side as it strains against his slacks. He aligns it vertically, his flushed tip peeking out from his waistband. You grin widely, having won your prize. You’re not the only one who’s needy now.

You press down against him, rutting your clothed cunt against the underside of his cock. His breath hitches as the soft material of your shorts catches against his sensitive tip, and you know soon it’ll be smeared with precum. You rock against him with a fervor now, trying to shift your hips at a better angle each time, pitching your pelvis forward to try and catch more of your clit on each down and upward motion. Trying to get more of that delicious friction that’s pooling wetness in your panties. But even as you pant softly into his shoulder and work yourself against him, you know it won’t be enough.

It’s all Kento’s fault. Before you met him, an orgasm was a simple delight that your own fingers could give you with ease. But now your body knows him. It knows how he feels pressed deep into you, snug against your cervix, filling you up completely. It knows the true depths of pleasure that you’re capable of feeling only when he’s inside you. Even if he hasn’t left any lasting marks, Kento has engraved himself into your body.

You need him to fill you. And right now, you’re warm and wet, but so empty.

You whimper, rocking yourself faster, more desperately. It feels good—really good—but the more you try to chase that goodness to an orgasm, the quicker it seems to slip away. You’re riding a wave that refuses to crest and crash down—it just undulates over and over. You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on that small flame inside you, trying to get it to burn just a little bit brighter.

Then all of a sudden, Kento’s other hand is sinking into your hip and he’s griiinding up into you with so much pressure that you gasp.

“Not enough, is it?” Kento says, his voice husky and strained.

You let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a sigh of relief. “Not enough. I need you,” you pant, your hips still bucking against his—chasing the heat of his reciprocating friction.

Without warning, Kento stands up, and you squeal as you lose balance on his lap. You lock your legs around his waist and throw your arms around his shoulders to avoid falling. He uses one arm to hold you up, and with the other hand he neatly gathers and tucks his documents into a drawer. With a soft grunt, he sits you down on his cleared desk.

You start to release your koala-like hold on him, only for him to pull you into a searing kiss that has you scrabbling at the nape of his neck for purchase. His tongue licks into your mouth with a force and precision that makes you moan. You kiss him back in earnest, your legs still locked around his waist, drawing him in as close as you can.

You both part, panting. Kento caresses your cheek with his thumb as he looks at you with those dark, lust-glazed eyes that say without words that he intends to devour you. Then he places a hand in the center of your chest and gently pushes you down on your back. You stare up at the light fixture, dizzied, as he lifts your legs from around his waist and scoots you further back onto the desk.

You gasp when you feel him lift your hips and remove your shorts and panties in a single, sharp tug. You’re bare to him now—the cool air making your wet folds feel icy cold. But only for a moment. Because then he presses that searing hot tongue to your core and oh. You can’t help but arch up into the sensation as the flat of his tongue slides through your folds, lapping up the mess you’ve made while waiting for him.

“Sweetheart.” You feel the affectionate name rumble against your sensitive folds. “You’re dripping. All this for me?”

“Y-yes—fuck, Kento,” you whimper as he dives in again, working his tongue into your sopping entrance before slowly licking back up to your clit. “I couldn’t wait—I need you, Kento, please—“

You’re cut off by your own moan as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. Your hips lift off the desk to meet the hot, wet suction as best you can. He lets you press yourself into his mouth, sucking hungrily at the sensitive nub until your thighs are trembling. Then he releases your clit with a wet sound, and he works back into your soaking folds to taste you again, groaning softly as he slurps and swallows down your arousal.

That small flame you were chasing while grinding against him is now building into an all-consuming fire. You can feel the pulse of it deep in you as the sensation mounts, stronger and hotter. The pleasure Kento gives you is so intense and sudden after hours of restraining yourself, you feel your body starting to run away with the feeling—a freight train gaining speed, out of your control. You’re going to come if he doesn’t stop, and this isn’t how you want it, even as good as it is.

“Kento, gonna come,” you gasp out, clawing at the smooth surface of his desk. “Don’ wanna come—stop, stop, I don’t want to come yet—“

Kento lifts his mouth from you the moment you say stop, but he doesnt remove his face from between your legs. He peers up at you from there with those sharp eyes, half-lidded and dark. The visual alone could send you over the edge if you weren’t desperately trying to stave off your own orgasm.

“And why don’t you want to come yet?” he asks with suspicion—seemingly resentful that you pulled him away from such a delicious meal.

You swallow, trying to catch your breath. You know what you want, and embarrassment aside, you’re determined to have it.

“Wanna come on your cock,” you say softly.

It’s not just dirty talk, or a move to play up his ego. You need it. You’ve needed it all day—to come undone with him splitting you open, filling every inch of you.

The moment you make your request, Kento’s expression shifts, and for a second, your desperate desire is mirrored on his face. Then in a quick succession of motions, he’s standing up, undoing his belt, pulling his cock out of his pants, and yanking your hips towards him with such sharpness that you yelp.

“You’re so good, you know that?” he murmurs as he leans over you, one hand aligning his cock with your entrance. He cups your face, tilting it so you look into his eyes as he presses the blunt head against your opening. You whimper at the beginning of the stretch.

“So fucking good for me. So perfect,” he rasps, his eyes burning. “Asking for what you want like a good girl. You want to come on my cock? Then go ahead and come, sweetheart.”

He slams into you in one precise thrust that has you squealing at the sudden, blinding-hot stretch of it—the press of it into the deepest parts of you all at once. Even if you’ve had it a thousand times before, the way he fills you still hits you like a boulder. He thrusts once, twice, three times, each devastatingly deep, and you’re gasping for air as if he’s fucked all the breath out of you.

This. This is exactly what you needed. To be taken apart by him in the way only he can. You can’t contain the blaze that’s been built by your dry humping, and the wet heat of his tongue, and him, just him—the man that drives you wild just by sitting there and doing paperwork. Kento holds your gaze as he fucks into you, looking at you like you’re a treasure, like he wants to eat you alive, so utterly devoted that it makes your heart swell, and it’s too much. It’s all too much, in the very best way.

Everything locks down and the heat explodes. You cry out his name when you come, your body shuddering and writhing with the force of it. Kento stills his hips and lets you pulse and clench around him as it works, and you swear you only ever want to come with him inside of you—the fullness radiating pleasure into the deepest parts of you.

When you finally come down from your high, you’re still trembling, and Kento is smoothing your hair out of your face as he studies you. His expression is soft but dark in an indecipherable way.

When your lucid eyes find his, he asks, “Did that feel good, sweetheart?”

You nod weakly, and you feel his cock jump a little inside you. He smiles softly, tracing his thumb over the apple of your cheek.

“Mm, that’s good, love. Now give me another.”

Before you can process it, before you can open your mouth to protest, he’s drawing out of you and plunging back in with full force, and you scream.

Your brain and body are already fried from your first orgasm, haven’t had time to recalibrate—and he wants another. And he seems determined to take it from you.

Kento sets an unforgiving rhythm, pounding into you with deep precision, bottoming out every time he rolls his hips into yours. Every drag of his girth against your walls feels like it sprays off sparks of electricity, and you can’t help but try to curl back from him, trying to escape the intensity of the feeling. Your recoiling is met with a firm grip on your neck—not enough to truly choke you, but enough to keep you from scrambling away.

“No running,” he says in a warning tone, snapping his hips forward with each deep thrust, never slowing his pace.

“‘s too much,” you slur out. You’re trying not to run, you’re trying your best to take it, but it’s so hard when every stroke feels so white hot.

“You can take it, sweetheart. Give me another, I know you can,” Kento coos—and you want to. There’s nothing you want more than to give Kento whatever he asks for, especially when he’s sweating and flushed and looking so in love as he thrusts into you.

“I’m trying, ‘m tryin’” you whine, hot tears starting to prickle in your eyes at the overstimulation.

“It’s okay, love, just let go. Let go and give me another,” Kento says, more softly now, moving his hand from your neck to cradle the side of your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he works deep in you. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as the tears spill down your cheeks. “I wan’ to, I want to—but I can’t.”

“You can, and you will. You’re going to right now, love, I can feel it,” he says lowly, and oh. Oh. Oh fuck. He’s right.

Your body’s feedback to your brain must be delayed, because you don’t even feel your peak building until it’s suddenly there—looming over you, drawing your whole body up taut before crashing down like a tsunami. Your second orgasm blazes through you in an instant, and you let out a strangled cry as it takes you by surprise.

“Good girl, there it is,” Kento soothes as you writhe and sob through it. He finally slows his pace as you shudder and whimper and grab at his shirt to keep yourself grounded—trying to keep yourself from completely falling apart.

You lose focus of his face for a moment—your eyes must roll back, because you hear him say “Eyes on me, love” in that low, smooth voice of his. With some effort, Kento swims back into your vision—his expression a portrait of lust and reverence. If you weren’t in the throes of such miserable pleasure, you might notice how his hands are starting to shake, how his jaw is clenched, how his hips stutter as he slowly, slowly strokes in and out of you now—on the edge of losing control.

You gradually come down from your peak until you’re back on solid ground. You blink up at Kento, dazed, your head resting heavy against the hard wood of his desk. You devour the sight of him above you. He’s panting softly, a few strands loose from his usual slicked-back hair and now hanging into his eyes. His tie is loose and his dress shirt is rumpled from where you gripped it. An unkempt, sex-mussed Kento—the sight makes you throb, and you wonder how your body can still respond to him after coming twice.

At least his hips are still now, which is a small mercy for your blindingly sensitive cunt. You gaze up at him, eyes soft, as he wipes the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. You turn your head to catch his thumb in your mouth and suck it, and he lets out a low groan.

“Don’t do that unless you’re ready to give me one more, sweet girl,” he warns.

You promptly release the digit, which makes him laugh. He presses his thumb back between your lips and watches lovingly as you lave over it with your tongue then release it with a final, wet kiss. He can’t help but shudder a little, and you notice.

“Are you close?” you ask softly, and he nods.

“Don’t know if I can hold back. I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, looking a little pained. You can see now the visible signs of his restraint, and it warms your heart that he’s worried about you. Even when he takes you beyond your limits, he’d never push you to the point of breaking.

“I don’t know if my pussy can take any more right now,” you admit, your thighs still trembling. “…But if you want, you can fuck my mouth,” you grin, your mouth watering at the thought.

Kento’s eyes widen, then darken, and a soft groan slips from his lips as he surges forward to kiss you.

“You dirty little thing,” he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing over it with his tongue. “So good for me. Get on your knees.”

You scramble to comply, and Kento helps lever you up and off the desk so you can kneel at his feet. He grabs a cushion from his chair and leans down to slip it under your knees, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he draws back to his full height. Your heart brims with affection at the simple sweetness of the action.

You look up at him with wide, adoring eyes, and press soft kisses to his thigh that make him shudder. His cock is hard and heavy between his legs, flushed and shining with your own wetness. You grab the base, testing the girth in your hands, and Kento lets out a soft, strangled sound.

“You really are close, huh?” you giggle, licking a stripe from base to tip, tasting yourself on his hot flesh.

He grits out a moan, squeezing his eyes shut as you take his swollen tip between your lips. You suck on him gently, circling your tongue around the head, and you feel him throb on your tongue in response. Kento’s hand finds its place in your hair, gripping firmly as he slowly rocks into your mouth. You open your jaw further and meet his shallow thrusts with eager bobs of your head, sucking greedily around him.

You love taking Kento in your mouth, if for no other reason than to drink in his reactions. The soft grunts and pants and groans you pull from him make you preen. You watch him through your eyelashes—the way his brow is knitted, his jaw slack and bottom lip trembling with restrained pleasure. You do your best to burn the image into your mind. Though there is one part of this gorgeous vision that could be improved. You pull off his cock with a wet sound and rest his throbbing shaft on your cheek as you squeeze the base with one hand.

“Eyes on me, Ken,” you grin, parroting his earlier words. The irony isn’t lost on Kento, who lets out a sound between a scoff and a chuckle. He dutifully opens his eyes and peeks down at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. When his eyes meet yours, he groans and turns his head away, his cock twitching against your cheek.

“I really won’t last if I look at you, sweetheart,” he says, his voice breaking with the effort to restrain himself.

“I don’t care if you last. I want to taste you already,” you grin. He huffs out a shaky breath as you rub his tip against your slick, swollen lips. “Fuck my mouth, Kento. I want you to come down my throat,” you urge him, your eyes burning into his.

His breath hitches, and you feel his hand tighten its grip in your hair. “…I can’t be gentle,” he warns you, eyes flaring and voice tight.

“Then don’t be,” you hum, smiling before kissing the tip of his cock. Kento’s hips twitch, and he groans.

“Fuck. I am going to ruin you,” he murmurs, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “If you can’t take it, slap my leg. If you don’t, I won’t stop.”

A thrill runs through you, and you feel your pulse throb through your cunt. You nod, dizzied and giddy with the promise of Kento using your throat.

You slacken your jaw and place his tip on your tongue, then look up at him with expectant eyes—waiting for him to set the pace. He hisses a breath out through his teeth as he readjusts his grip in your hair—then he plunges his cock into the waiting heat of your throat.

You gag at the intrusion, but you do your best to open your throat, even as your body jerks as you choke around him. He sets an unforgiving pace, stuffing his cock down your tight, wet throat as you try diligently to take him—fresh tears burning in your eyes from the effort.

He moans as you take everything he gives you, his gaze fixed on the way your lips stretch around him—a slick mess of spit and precum clinging to his shaft and dripping down your chin as he fucks into your mouth. Tears are streaming down your cheeks now, but you don’t tap out—you just dig your fingers into Kento’s thighs, deliriously happy to choke around him if it’s for his pleasure.

“Fuck—sweetheart, you’re so fucking perfect—taking me so well, choking on me—gonna make me f-fucking come—“

Mindless praise spills from Kento’s lips like a prayer as he rocks into the wet heat of your mouth, his pleasure threatening to surge up and over the edge. You can sense how close he is now, and the thrill of it has your aching cunt throbbing again. Kento watches in amazement as you slither your hand between your thighs, rubbing haphazard circles around your clit as you gag on his cock.

You force your eyes open, tears clinging to your lashes as you look up at Kento, desperately wanting to see how he looks right now, so close to coming. You expect him to have his eyes squeezed shut with impending bliss, but you find he’s staring at you, mouth agape, gaze reverent and drunk from pleasure. And the moment your glassy, tear-filled eyes lock with his, he’s gone.

Kento comes with a choked sound, snapping a final deep thrust into your throat before stilling as his hot cum spurts down your throat.

You do your best to swallow it, but you can’t take it all. You pull off with a wet gasp, coughing and spluttering as you try not to choke on the cum coating your mouth and throat. Kento shudders through the aftershocks of his orgasm, transfixed by the sight of you gasping for air, thick strings of saliva and cum running down your chin and connecting your mouth to his cock. That heady mixture of spit and cum drips and splatters on your shirt, your thighs, the floor, as you cough and catch your breath.

Mind still hazy with pleasure, Kento fumbles around to help you. He digs through his drawers and finds a handkerchief. He kneels down, cups your jaw, and begins to wipe your wet mouth and chin. He cleans your face gently, dazed and murmuring praises—before you cut him off with a whine.

“‘M sorry, Kento,” you whimper, looking genuinely disappointed.

“For what, love? You were perfect,” he soothes, confusion knitting his brow. You meet his gaze with a frown.

“I wasted your cum. I really wanted to drink it,” you say glumly, staring at the mess of cum staining your shirt and your thighs.

A beat passes as Kento stares at you with amazement, then he huffs out an incredulous laugh. He pulls you to his chest, shaking with mirth, as he smooths a hand down your back. You melt into him, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s alright. There’s more where that came from.”

You feel his wet, spent cock stir against your thigh.

———

a/n: the first time i had multiple orgasms i thought i was gonna die. idk how you guys are surviving 3+ back to back 😭 anyways I’ve looked at this way too long—please take it away from me 💀

[kisspotion]

college!matt murdock x reader | mutual masturbation... but not how you're thinking! | nsfw

a/n: matt’s kinda a perv in this… but you just sound so beautiful

college!matt fisting his cock in the shower to the same pace he hears you fucking yourself at. he tried to ignore your muffled moans at first, knowing how wrong it was to eavesdrop on his neighbor in the room across the hall. but his exam stress and your airy breaths combined into a painfully hard problem for matt.

it had been so long—too goddamn long—since he'd last had the chance to get off, mock trials and essays taking up any spare time. exhaling a long, slow breath, matt leaned forward and rested his forehead against the cold tile.

were you relieving your stress too? how many fingers were you fucking yourself with? were you wishing someone could be there to help you get off?

"fuck," he groaned at the thought, gripping the base of his cock. his hips jerked forward involuntarily at the sensation. he could hear your teeth pierce your lips as you hold back a whimper. matt sucked in a sharp breath thinking about your lips and how he wish he could feel them, feel the way your heart pounded with pleasure.

“pleasepleaseplease,” he overhears, fist continuing to work along his cock. your pleas combined with the wetness of your cunt hinted at how near your orgasm was. matt steadied himself against the wall with his left hand, ministrations containing with his right. it had been so long since he had last done this.

admittedly, matt didn’t find himself doing this very often. more typically than not, the stimulation was too much for him to feel pleasure. but sometimes, his neighbor across the hall sounds too pretty and fucked out for him to not. and you didn’t even know what you were doing to him.

“oh god,” his grip tightened, bringing him closer to the edge.

he wondered how long you had been touching yourself for before he caught you? what got you so worked up? if he were to just go and knock, would you let him help you?

matt’s chest heaved at the same pace as yours, orgasms approaching in tandem. your fingers grasp against your sheets, his desperately grasping for any stability against the tiles. his eyes squeezed shut, almost in a desperate attempt to imagine how you look while lost in pleasure.

a soft, echoing moan flew from matt’s lips, his head dropping back while his abdomen clenched at his release. cum splatted against the shower walls, washing away with the water and some dripping down his hand. his thumb swiped over the head of his cock, working himself to overstimulation to get this feeling out of his system in case he ever bumps into you leaving his room.

a pang of dizziness overcame him, pairing with his exhaustion. with a groan, matt pushed himself off the wall, leaning into the water stream. as his body began to relax, his ears grew deaf to the drops of water sliding off his warm skin, only hearing the slowness of your breathing and pulse of your heart.

he’d finish off his shower when he could find a thought of his that wasn’t about you.

[viperify]

AU | ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ᴛᴏᴍ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

˚.☾⋆✧ Blood Lust.

Short Summary: When you stir awake in the middle of the night, you notice Tom hasn’t come back home. Strange noises downstairs lead you to investigate, but what—or who—will you find as you do?

Warnings: 18+ only! Vampire!Tom, hunter and prey, biting, marking, blood play, nipple play, incredibly feral Tom Riddle, breeding kink, choking, praise, unprotected p in v, implied murder (side character).

A/N: FINALLY it’s out. Thank you so much for your patience, life’s a mess atm. Love you, always <3

wordcount: 3,2k

You wake.

Not by choice, but rather from the sound of a window shutting forcefully somewhere downstairs. You still, holding your breath as you listen intently, however, you are left waiting. All you can hear is complete silence. Silence that feels almost eerie now, in the dark. When you hear nothing suspicious for another minute, your focus shifts.

It must be around midnight, you think, and a quick look at the clock confirms your assumption.

It’s 23:50.

Then you hear it—the wind. You exhale sharply, closing your eyes again. It’s just the wind, you tell yourself. The wind must have shut a window downstairs. And just as you are about to drift off to sleep again—

Your eyes shoot open.

You had checked all the windows before going upstairs.

Your arm searches for something next to you—someone. However, a few taps later, and you realise the bed is cold and empty, sheets in the same place as they were when you went to bed.

He isn’t here. 

Or better—he hasn’t come back.

You sigh in defeat, sitting upright on the soft mattress, the silky sheets crumpling under the shift of weight on them. Your palm covers your mouth as you yawn, slipping into your slippers you placed next to the bed. Your legs carry you towards the nearby window, and you rest your hands on the ledge as you glance into the starry night sky, which is clearer than usual today.

In that moment, realisation hits you.

It’s a full moon.

Another loud noise has your body tense involuntarily, tearing you from your thoughts—this time it’s something shattering on the ground, similar to a glass. You walk towards the door, about to turn the key when your arm drops again.

Every fiber in your body tells you no—stay in bed, don’t go and check. Why would you? Tom isn’t home, and if there really was someone, he wouldn’t want you to get yourself in danger. Right?

You shake your head. But there is another voice inside of you, clearer than your own, telling you to check—

So you do.

You turn the key in the lock, pushing the handle down before peering through the gap.

Darkness.

A sense of relief washes over you, and you step outside, a small candle in your left hand lighting your way. The wooden planks creak under your feet, and you stop every few steps to listen—but all that greets you is silence, silence that carries an intimidating undertone.

Even as you walk down the stairs, there is nothing too unusual. The dim glow of your candle does little to illuminate your surroundings, and it really does a better job exposing yourself to any possible intruder than the other way around, but it’s better than nothing. Finally, you reach the lowest level of your shared home, stepping onto the cold marble floor tiles.

Tick-tock.

Tick-tock.

A shiver runs down your spine as the ticking of the living room clock has you stop momentarily, an eerie tension forming in the air, growing thicker the closer you get to it. You have been wanting to get rid of the clock for a while, telling him how irritating the ticking is, especially when you pass it at night—but he is oddly attached to it.

So you kept it.

With the help of the flickering candlelight, you are able to make out an object on the floor near the living room—your favourite vase—that had dropped and shattered into a hundred small pieces. You sigh softly, crouching down to pick up the pieces, however, soon the inevitable happens—you cut yourself.

A sharp hiss spills over your lips as the porcelain breaks your skin, a drop of blood running down your finger. You curse yourself for not being more careful, looking around to find something you can wrap around the wound.

The emergency kit. In the kitchen.

Standing back up, you make your way, though you don’t get far before your breath catches in your throat and your body freezes in place. A pair of glowing, scarlet eyes advances towards you, their intensity burning through the night’s darkness better than any candle in your possession would.

You shouldn’t be scared. It’s Tom.

However, something about his presence feels different today. The energy he radiates seems stronger, needier. More feral, more unhinged. More dangerous.

Before you know it, he is there, right in front of you.

Though the light of your candle dims when he stands before you, it doesn’t take long for you to take in the state of him. Pupils dilated wide, intently focused on you, his breath coming out in short, ragged huffs. And there is blood. So much blood. The crimson color staining his lips and chin, seeping into the white cotton fabric of his robes. His eyes wander, stopping at the bleeding cut on your finger before they trail back up—slowly.

“Tom?” you whisper, eyebrows drawn together in confusion—and fear.

He doesn’t reply.

Instead, he reaches up to your cheek, brushing over the soft skin ever so lightly, barely even touching you at all. His thumb then wanders under your chin, slowly tilting your head up so you are met with his glowing red eyes. Still, he doesn’t speak—instead, he leans in, his lips meeting yours just to place a singular, feather-light kiss on them. Enough to make you taste what he’s been up to—although you’d rather not think about it. His hand leaves your cheek, grazing over your jaw and throat until he stops at your neck, pulling you in closer.

When his fingers press down on your pulse point softly, feeling your elevated, rushed heartbeat under his touch, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. Tom’s head dips then, his hot breath skimming over your ear, the tension between the both of you building rapidly. And then, a small, an almost too silent huff leaves his lips—

“Run.”

Now, obviously, this isn’t meant to be a game for you to win. It has never been. With his heightened senses and supernatural strength, you cannot escape him, and you never will. Both of you are aware of that. But the thrill of it all—it is intoxicating for both of you. So whenever he does tell you to run—you are more than happy to obey.

So you take a step back, and his arm drops to his side. One more quick glance at him, how his chest rises and falls in anticipation, how his lips are slightly parted, revealing his sharp fangs—

And then you run, as fast as your legs carry you.

He gives you a head start, knowing you won’t make it far either way. It’s dark, but he doesn’t need light to find you. The smell of your fresh blood in the air is enough for him to locate you, even if you were a mile away. He could distinguish your blood from a thousand others, and God, he would always find you.

After all, you are still his favourite prey.

With that thought, he turns to leave the kitchen, following the soft sound of your heartbeat. He can feel how quick it beats, trying its hardest to supply your body with enough oxygen. The closer he gets to you—now walking up the stairs—the stronger the scent of your blood becomes. The more he craves you.

You shriek quietly as the door to your shared bedroom flies open, your breathing stilling in an attempt to keep him at bay for just a little longer. Though you know it’s over when you hear a low scoff from outside of your closet, the door opening as a strong hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you out.

“Too easy,” he growls, lips crashing onto yours, capturing you in a heated kiss. “Too fucking easy.” Suddenly his hands are all over your body, practically tearing your clothes off your body. The buttons of your blouse pop off the fabric, clattering as they hit the floor, rolling off. You barely have time to complain before you stand bare before him, and his hungry eyes are drinking you in.

Tom takes a step closer, and you squirm slightly as his cold hand softly trails over your delicate skin, pulling you in as he reaches your waist. “Been thinking about you all day. Now you are mine.” He purrs, smirking against your lips before he kisses you again, biting down on your lower lip, drawing a soft gasp from you.

“Who— who was it?” You breathe, gaze lowering to the bloodstains on his clothes, a sly grin forming on his face at your question.

“Remember Knockturn Alley? How his eyes lingered on you?” He answers, trailing kisses along your jaw.

Of course. What else.

You sigh. “Yes, I do.”

“Mhm.” He mumbles, lips back on yours, not giving you the chance to question him further.

Never breaking the kiss, he pushes you backwards until you are sprawled out on the now cool, silky sheets, not wasting another second before he joins you. One hand softly wrapped around your throat, he tilts your head to gain better access to your neck, his ragged breaths hot on your skin as his head dips, greedily trailing kisses along your jugular vein.

Your soft moans only seem to spur him on, sucking marks into your skin, your neck, collarbone, and breasts until you are nothing more than a whining mess beneath him. Only then does he pull back slightly, humming lowly in approval as his glowing eyes wander over the artwork of bruises he’s left behind on your skin.

He savours the way you melt under his touch, so good and pliant for him, anticipation building at the thought of finally tasting you. “Doing so well for me,” he mutters, brushing a strand of hair from your face, before dipping back down to continue his ministrations.

Then, for the first time that night, you feel his fangs on your skin, grazing over your neck ever so lightly—a gentle reminder of what’s to come, of the flaming hunger beneath his composure. Your body twitches at the contact, breath coming out shakily as you cling onto his shoulder, feeling his muscles under your touch.

A smirk creeps onto his face at your reaction, placing an open-mouthed kiss directly onto your pulse point. “So afraid,” he drawls, tilting your head just a tiny bit more, before you feel his pointed teeth again, not yet piercing your skin, but lingering, waiting.

“I am not—“ you try to defend yourself, however, his palm closes over your mouth, cutting you off.

“No more talking back.”

As his instinct takes over, you feel it. The familiar sting of his fangs sinking into the tender flesh of your neck, drawing the first drops of blood with a breathy groan as he tastes you on his tongue, some of it trickling down onto the sheets and your cleavage. A cozy warmth spreads through your body, easing the pain, intensifying the pleasure he is providing you with.

“Tom— oh God—“ you whimper, hands tangling in his brunette locks, softly tugging on his roots as he continues feeding on you, soft sucking noises filling your shared bedroom as he greedily drinks your blood, a tingling sensation spreading through your body.

But before he gets too lost in the ecstasy, he pulls back with a low growl, fangs forcefully retracting from your neck. For a moment he just glances down at you, chest heaving with ragged breaths. “Taste yourself,” he breathes, head dipping down until he’s a mere inch away from your lips. “I want you to taste yourself. How fucking sweet you taste for me.”

He doesn't give you much of a choice, because as soon as you open your mouth to voice your complaint, his lips are on yours, the metallic taste of your own blood flooding your senses. His hand tightens around your throat, cutting off just enough air to leave you dizzy, while the effects of his bite send your mind spiraling. Your knuckles turn white from how hard they are gripping the sheets, your body struggling to process the overwhelming sensations all at once.

But there is something you do notice. Very clearly even.

How painfully hard he is. How he can’t help but grind himself against you.

“T-Tom, please,” you whimper as he slowly pulls back, admiring the mess he’s left on your lips, thumb shakily swiping over them.

“You are ovulating.”

“I know, I—“

He groans. A low, almost desperate sound somewhere from the back of his throat. “Fuck, sweetheart. You know I can’t— fuck— hold back. Not when—“

Merlin help you.

Your hand is on his neck, never breaking eye contact as you pull him closer once more. Shaking your head, you place a kiss on his tensed jaw. “Don’t hold back.”

Another sharp inhale, and his hand is back around your throat, pressing down, not to restrict your airflow, because you can breathe very well—as well as you could breathe under the effect of your vampire’s bite—but rather your blood flow.

“Don’t wish for something you cannot handle,” he warns lowly, but you shake your head again. “God, Tom, please— I need you, just— take me.”

“Fuck—“

With your mind already blurry as a result of his bite, you only faintly notice the sound of his belt hitting the wooden planks of your floor with a thud, followed by the rest of his clothes. Before you realise it, he slips between your thighs, body pressing flush against yours. His lips wrap around your nipple, gently dragging his sharp teeth over the sensitive bud, drawing a sharp gasp from you at the intense sensation, which sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

It doesn’t take long until you feel him prodding at your soaked entrance, pressing another kiss to your lips before he pushes inside of you with a low groan, and it’s rough, it’s careless, mirroring his burning hunger for you. He doesn’t wait, no, he buries himself to the hilt with one singular, powerful thrust, tip brushing against your sensitive cervix, your brows drawing together at the sudden, sharp yet delicious stretch on your walls. A choked moan rips from your lips, body arching beneath him, which is apparently sign enough for him to pull back slightly, only to thrust back inside harder.

His head dips, breath hot against your neck as he continues sucking and biting marks into your skin before his fangs break through your flesh once more, a low, satisfied hum falling over his lips as he stills his hunger on his favourite human—you.

He soon sets a steady rhythm, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his tip brushes over your most sensitive spot with every thrust. The flickering candlelight in the otherwise dark room illuminates the sharp features of his face each time he raises his head to take a breath, your blood dripping down his chin over the sides of his neck.

“Can’t get enough of you, fuck—“ he groans, picking up his pace when he hears your soft moans, his fingertips sinking into your waist, hard enough to leave bruises as he pulls you back into his thrusts, stopping your body from moving forwards with every snap of his hips.

Few things in this world can make Tom Riddle lose his self-restraint.

But the way you squeeze him so tight, walls fluttering as you try to accommodate his length, soft whimpers falling over your lips, all while the flavour of your blood has his mind spinning with pure ecstasy—certainly has him on the verge.

Because fuck—you are just so gorgeous, he thinks. Covered in his marks and his only, painting a canvas of his lust on your body, he just needs you to be his, forever. The bite would come, the bite to turn you into a vampire yourself, but for now—he’ll still savour the irreplaceable taste of your blood. Instead, he’ll make you his in other ways.

Tom’s eyes darken at the thought, lips slightly parted, and suddenly he has a desire other than satiating his primal hunger for your blood—he wants, no, needs to fill you—stake his claim on you.

You can practically feel the last bits of restraint he has left fading, messily feeding on you while he buries his cock deep within your walls with every sharp, perfectly angled snap of his hips into yours, deliciously dragging over all the right spots as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“Too much, Tom— please—“ you whimper, just as your consciousness threatens to slip, ears ringing and vision growing cloudy. He is barely able to stop himself in time from draining more of your precious blood, fangs tearing from your skin with a low, guttural groan. He tilts your head then, having you meet his strict, intense gaze. “Not yet, look at me. Fuck— look at me as I fill you up.”

Only with half-lidded eyes do you manage to do so, legs weakly wrapped around him as he takes what he needs, mercilessly slipping in and out of you, his brunette curls sticking to his damp forehead as he chases his release.

“You are going to be good for me and take it,” he pants, thrusts growing more erratic as you feel him twitch inside of you.

“Every.” thrust “Last.” thrust “Drop.” thrust

“Yes— fuck please, Tom.” You gasp, and with a few more sharp snaps of his hips, he spills his release deep inside of you, groaning lowly as he paints your walls with thick, white ropes of his cum.

You too come undone with a weak shudder of your body, your walls fluttering around his length, hands slipping from his shoulders. Pleasure and pain melt into one, stars dancing in front of your eyes as your vision grows blurrier with each passing second.

Tom lets you regain your consciousness, staying situated between your thighs, his cock still buried deep within your walls as he gently laps his tongue against the puncture wounds on your neck, cleaning most of the dried crimson liquid from your skin.

The next thing you remember is his fingertips tenderly massaging shampoo into your scalp, warm water surrounding your sore body as he has you resting against his chest in the bathtub. The scent of fresh rose petals and orchids fills your nostrils with a deep breath of yours. You hum softly, eyes fluttering closed again, letting him take care of you.

A flicker of satisfaction sparks in his eyes as he dries you off in front of a mirror, gently patting the towel over the bite marks and bruises he’s left all over your cleavage.

“So gorgeous, covered in my marks. And all mine.”

“All yours.”

tags: @belladonnaheartsthemoon, @riddlebella, @jo1818

—

thank you for reading! <3 feedback and reblogs are appreciated. 💜

[sahisan]

nsfw. fem reader. cuddly chuuya for life <3 not proofread. might write an sfw ver now that im thinking about it.

chuuya who holds you as close as possible during sex.

chuuya loves cuddling during sex more than anything. it always starts with his hands all over you—holding you, hugging you, groping you; legs wrapped around your own or your middle, arms holding you close; lips either on yours, tongue slowly moving inside your mouth or littering your neck, shoulders and literally everywhere he can reach with kisses and lovebites.

and it doesn't even matter where—in bed, on the couch while watching another episode of a show, on the kitchen counter which he sat you up on while making breakfast on a day off (chuuya has self-control, a lot of it, actually, but it's needless to say the omelette was burnt), in his office at home (literally adores it when you cockwarm him while he deals with all these papers—can actually sit there for hours), hell, even in the shower where he always volunteers to hold you up while you wrap your legs around his waist.

chuuya doesn't like losing hold of you ever when you two make love, even if it's faint hand holding while he thrusts in and out of you, or holding your thighs apart while he eats you out or just simply pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

and oh, every time is so, so good.

like now, when he's fucking you from behind, arms wrapped around you like you're his lifebuoy, a hand on your breast and another on your lower abdomen, two fingers circling your clit. and it's a combo, even, of almost everything mentioned above—his face is nuzzled tight into the part between your neck and shoulder, breathing heavy with pants and grunts and whimpers leaving his mouth. he's so, so close, in every sense of the word—there's no space between you at all, not a single millimeter, and he's so close to coming he has to basically hold it in.

but chuuya just has to always make it even better.

it's when he hoists your upper body up from the bed and presses your back to his chest from this position as well that he starts reaching that particular spot inside you and oh, he moans in tandem with you when your moans get louder and you squeeze him tight enough to make him come on the spot. his fingers stutter slightly because of that but don't lose their rhythm on your clit and it's when he starts feeling like he's going to black out from how close he is that he starts mumbling "c'mon, baby, f—fuck, s' close— love you, love you, ah—" frantically while panting into the crook of your neck and fuck, is it the best orgasm he's had in years.

chuuya holds you with literally all his limbs for what feels like eternity after you both come. his hand is off your breast but instead both are now wrapped around your waist, his chest pressed to your back and he's pretty sure both of you are sweaty as hell but he just does not give a single shit. there might be stars in front of his eyes as he closes them, inhaling your scent and exhaling with thr sound of his loud heartbeat drumming in his ears. he doesn't dare pull out just yet—let him have it for a few moments—minutes—longer, please.

chuuya who falls asleep with his limbs intertwined with yours later on after—and every night—breathing evenly into the back of your neck, not daring to let go of your hand.

[zae-heeyyy]

Seraphic

Summary: You are Arthur's angel. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female!reader Word count: 2,222 Tags: smut, high honor Arthur Warnings: 18+ MDNI

a/n: Whew 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this one. 🫣 Been sitting on it for a while (no pun intended) I've read and reread it a million times, and I'm ready to share. Also, we're pretending like Arthur's tent actually closes. Anyway thanks for reading!

Seraphic: something angelic or celestial in nature, often suggesting purity, beauty, or holiness.

By 1 a.m., the sounds of camp had reduced to the songs of crickets and the crackle of the fire. While everybody else slept, you waited up for Arthur, reading a book under lantern light in his tent. He arrived eventually, keeping his greeting short and joining you on his cot with slouched shoulders, seemingly exhausted. When he took his hat off, the grimace on his face became all the more apparent. His expression and tense body language told you all you needed to know; whatever happened out there wasn't good.

You handed him a match and a cigarette from his nightstand, and he thanked you with a nod. Using the heel of his boot, he struck the match and lit the cigarette, holding it with his thumb and index fingers. Flickering lantern light and the burning ember tip illuminated his bruised knuckles.

"Should I ask?" You traced a gentle finger over the bruises, and he shook his head.

"Best not," he replied, exhaling a ribbon of smoke.

"Well, I'm glad you're still in one piece," you said, looking him over. His shirt had seen cleaner, less wrinkled days, and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. "Well, mostly in one piece."

He let out a gust of air, a failed attempt at a laugh, before pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning.

"Headache?" you asked, and he confirmed. The discomfort came with the life he lived. Loud gunfire, the rush of adrenaline, and focusing on his shots all combined to leave him in pain afterward. You exited the tent momentarily and returned with a bowl of warm water, a cloth, and a bottle of miracle tonic.

"Here—for your head." He took the medicine and snuffed his cigarette. Rejoining him, you sat on the cot and dabbed his face with the wet cloth, wiping away dirt and sweat. A soft kiss on his temple prompted him to lean into you, the tension finally dissipating. You wrapped your arms around his big frame and held him close. Obviously, he was your safe space, but oh—were you his. Eyes shut, he rested his head on your bosom.

Arthur found comfort in his typical role as protector and provider. But in these moments, when roles faded, he could feel the weight of the world lifted off his shoulders—a crushing weight he didn't even realize he was carrying. Being with you like this made him wonder if heaven was real because you were godsent.

To Arthur's dismay, you unraveled yourself from him to tie the tent flap closed, sealing the two of you away in the dark. Walking between his legs, you untied his neckerchief and dusted his soiled shirt.

"—Needs a wash. Your blood or someone else's?" you questioned, fingers undoing the top button.

"Not mine," he answered. Peeling the shirt off and tossing it aside, you studied him for a second time tonight. He'd seemed more relaxed than when he arrived, but his brow stayed brooding. Still positioned with his legs on either side of you, you caressed his face, one of your thumbs stroking the hairless scar on his chin.

"What else can I do?"

"You done enough; I'm fine." He gave your hand on his face a reassuring squeeze.

Leaning forward, you kissed him tenderly. His arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you nearer until your foreheads touched. You spoke low against his mouth, a playful grin forming on yours.

"You gotta stop getting yourself into so much trouble, Arthur Morgan."

Your demand was met with a chuckle, and he replied, "I'll do my best, darlin'." You peppered his lips with loving, tender kisses, making him smile against them and squeeze you tighter in a hug. You would do just about anything to see that man smile at you the way he did, all soft and endearing.

Your kisses subsided, but Arthur's affectionate gaze stayed fixed on you. The slight smile on his face had straightened, his expression mirroring the intensity of the one he wore when he first confessed his love for you.

"Got that look on your face," you told him, and he just blinked slowly, awestruck. Though he often swore he was a man of few words, he could fill volumes with his devotion for you. You loved it when he got like that, entranced and overwhelmed with love.

The way he watched you set a fire within you that warmed the most intimate parts of your being. He was surprised when you let yourself fall heavily into him, trying to get as close as possible. Maybe he was going to say something or make a noise, but he didn't have the time before your mouth was on his again, your tongue pushing through his lips to tangle with his. You only pulled away when you needed to breathe.

Instead of pressing your lips to his once more, you dropped to your knees in front of him. Eyes widening, he tried to bring you back up to your feet, shaking his head, once again astounded by you.

"Sweetheart—"

Still on your knees, you patted his cheek and looked up at him with doe eyes. "Shhh, let me take care of you, Arthur." His hand found yours on his face, and he turned to kiss it, nodding placidly. Both of you managed to keep your volume low as you helped him strip down to his union suit. You began working at the buttons of his neckline, doing more ripping than unbuttoning, shoving the fabric down his shoulders.

As more clothing fell away, you trailed sweet kisses down his abdomen. At the same time, his hands roamed wherever they could. The rough pads of his fingers lightly tracing your skin mirrored a faint electric charge. Despite being a brute of an outlaw, he was overly careful with his hands when it came to you; your body was fine china and deserved to be treated as such. Goosebumps formed in a wake left by his touch.

As you kissed down the trail of hair under his belly button, his rapid breathing hitched, and the bulge between his legs strained against the flannel fabric, begging to be unleashed. You tried to find his eyes as you groped him through the underwear, but his head was tipped back, his mouth agape.

"Look at me." You whispered, and he snapped to attention like a soldier following commands. Eyes locked on his, you unclasped the last button, and his length sprung free, the pink head of his cock primed with anticipation. A teasing laugh crept up within you as you trailed soft kisses from the base of his shaft and left one long lingering peck on the tip. The loud, rhythmic thumping of his heart was music to your ears. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you took his entire length in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, taking him deeper until your nose touched the curly hairs at the base.

Then he couldn't hold it in anymore; a deep, guttural groan escaped him.

Your mouth was the warmest, most intoxicating blanket he'd ever been wrapped in, and he never wanted to leave. He gaped at you, seeing your mouth full of him, his pupils dilated with pure lust. The blunt tip of his cock pressed to the back of your throat, making it constrict around him. His whole body shuddered.

"Look whatchu' do to me, woman," he rattled, tangling his hands in your hair. Despite his eagerness, you withdrew from his aching sex, a string of saliva joining your lips to him. Something reminiscent of a whine exited him when you stepped away, but his open mouth fell shut at the sight of your bloomers slipping down your legs. You kissed him, savoring the salty, bitter taste of his arousal mixed with the tobacco and herbs of his mouth.

"Lay back," you murmured in his ear. Obeying your command once again, he let out a grunt as he felt your weight on top of him. You straddled him, and he held you up, his fingers digging firmly into your sides. Bending at the waist, you kissed longingly, your hips undulating against his. He pulled your nightgown up around your midriff, one of his hands gripping the flesh of your ass while the other one went between your legs. His index finger sank painstakingly into your weeping cunt, then brushed over your clit, making you shiver. He raised himself on his elbows, reaching for the hem of your sleep dress.

"Take this off; let me see you." You raised your arms and let him yank the garment away, leaving you completely exposed on top of him. "Beautiful," he breathed, using the back of his hand to graze your skin. Breathy sighs escaped you as he traced delicate circles around your nipples. His eyes bored into you, absorbing every detail like you were the most captivating thing that ever lived. Hyperfocused on your body, he fondled your breasts before gliding his hands down your torso, ogling, taking all of you in.

Freezing, his stare intensified as you massaged the tip of his cock up and down your glistening slit. Touching his lips to yours, you pushed him into your wet folds. Neither of you could contain the sounds building with you. He split you open, stretching you, making room for him, filling you. You held yourself up with your hands braced on his chest, but you went weak as he bottomed out within you, brushing against that deep, tender spot. You would've fallen if he wasn't there to hold you up, a thought mirroring one he had about you so often.

"I got you," he whispered into your ear. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to snap his hips up into you, the warm embrace of your center clearing his mind and driving him mad all the same. Finally, you started to ride, surging and sinking into him. He was a simple, agnostic man, but being with you like this made him believe in all the theocracy of angels, soulmates, and divine intervention. This was his bliss. This was his heaven, and you were his seraph. He'd go through hell every day if it meant coming home to this—to you. Hypnotized in the rhythm of you, a new thought crossed his mind every time you bounced.

Up.

She's so goddamn beautiful.

Down.

So perfect.

Up.

My girl.

Down.

My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl.

Up.

My angel.

Down.

I love her so much.

Up.

So wet.

Down

So warm.

Up.

So danm tight.

Down.

Shit.

And before you could come back up again, he squeezed his eyes shut, halting your hips with all the strength he could muster, fighting the damn-near irresistible urge to cum inside of you. Sweat had built up on his brow, and his stomach rose and fell quickly with each panting breath. You folded to kiss him, your hard nipples grazing against his chest.

"It's okay," you whispered, patting his face and grinding antagonizingly slow against him. You wanted him—needed him— to come undone for you. With that goal in mind, you picked up the pace and rolled your hips relentlessly, moaning your every thought into his ear.

"You feel so good inside of me."

"I need you."

"I love you."

Your climax was building fast, and you reached to give relief to that sensitive bundle of nerves atop your center. Arthur pushed your hand away swiftly, replacing it with his own. Always a giver, he'd do anything to feel useful while you were treating him like royalty.

While one hand worked your clit, his other gripped the meat of your hip, rocking you in time with his upward thrusts. His head tipped and hit the pillow, and you could feel his thighs tensing and shaking beneath you. Lips parted, he stared up at you. You felt him twitch inside you, and his brow finally relaxed.

That did it for you.

You were wordless as your orgasm ripped through you, your head swirling, and your veins on fire. Arthur's guiding hand on your hip didn't stop, and he fucked you through your climax. Hugging your body close and nuzzling his face into your neck, he growled as he painted your inner core with his own release. You stayed like that, glued to each other as you came down from your highs.

"You're too good for me," he finally said. You clasped a hand into his, kissing the long-forgotten bruises on his knuckles.

"Shut up." You responded, and he didn't say another self-deprecating word. It was the least he could do.

You cleaned up and redressed, nestling into the small, one-man cot. Finally settled for the night, you resorted to your regular bedtime positions: your head on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you, your legs tangled in one another's.

He rose before you in the morning, perching himself on the cot's edge while you slept behind him. He wrote in his journal, his thumb leaving a smudge on the page:

"For a long time, I believed I could not live a bad life and expect good things to happen to me. Yet somehow, this woman of pure goodness entered my life, and it is clear now that I have been a fool."

[bi-writes]

idk just thinking about seeing your lieutenant for the first time, this big giant dog of a man, and thinking to yourself, "hmmm yeah, i'm gonna make that thing mine." (18+)

like. i'm thinking about seeing him walk into the room for the first time. fresh off an op, still in all his gear. he's angry cause he's been awake off and on for 40 hours at this point, and he sinks down into a chair in the mess hall, and your eyes bug cause the chair fucking bends with his weight.

and you're just like "omg omg omg holy shit" cause this fucking brute is just huge and beefy, and you had no idea this was your type until you watched his hand curl around a cup and make it look miniature. and you're wondering like "fuck i bet those holsters are custom made" cause you don't think you've ever seen them stretch that far around someone's thigh.

ughghghghgh, and he's dumb as shit, too, or maybe he's just fucking blind. you give him every hint in the book, every indication of how you feel other than pasting a giant neon sign on your forehead that says "fuck me."

you wear the tightest cargo pants you can get. you let the buttons on your shirts go low whenever he's near. you make excuses to see him late, delivering him paperwork in the middle of the night, meeting him out for a smoke (and he's never seen you smoke anything), shuffling your way in front of him in line so you can bump into him and graze your ass against his front. he even catches you this way--even curls his hand around your waist and steadies you before letting you go impatiently.

fuck, bending over in front of him, the obnoxious giggling, the excuses to dangle your tits in his face. you want this man underneath you, on top of you, tangled around you and suffocating you with those enormous arms, and he barely side-glances at you whenever you're in his vicinity, and it's infuriating.

what do you have to do to reel this thing in? how many bones do you have to give him?

how many times do i have to flash my bra at you for you to fuck me over your desk?!

you can't eat another cherry in front of him. you can't drop more sauce onto your cleavage. you cannot come out of the showers in just a towel in front of him anymore because you're going to lose your fucking mind--

you even made out with his beloved little sergeant, his favorite little know-it-all that can't stop blowing shit up. that blue-eyed, insufferable, yapper of a scot that kisses all wet, with teeth, who pants like a puppy when he asks if he can 'ave a taste of y'r bonnie cunt, please, please, please--

and you say yes, because maybe he'll finally fucking shut up if you drown him between your thighs and never let him come up for air.

face down, ass up, cargos around your ankles, hips pushing past against that puppy's stubble as he devours you on his knees. his big hands spread your ass for him, and his thumbs flick over your folds as he opens you up, a cackle leaving him before he opens his mouth wide and kisses your pussy all sloppy and uncoordinated.

when the door swings open and hits the wall with a bang, the puppy tries to leave. he tries to move, but you reach back and grip his mohawk, scowling as you shove his face back where it belongs as your lieutenant stands at the door and heaves with anger.

"uh uh," you snap, and your sergeant on his knees whines, his blue eyes a little foggy and wet as he blinks up at you. but he complies, his tongue slurping, and you flutter your lashes at your lieutenant as you keep johnny muzzled in your cunt. "sorry, lieutenant. is this your office? must've read the sign wrong."

you reel from the contact. a big hand grips you by the hair, slamming you down against his desk, and you choke as you try and gasp for air. like a good boy, johnny settles where he is, shoving his tongue down your hole and moaning low when he realizes you're dripping down his chin now that his lieutenant has you.

"y'think this is funny, eh?" ghost mutters in your ear. "y'think i don't know wot y'r doin'? think i 'aven't caught on, think i 'aven't noticed wot a fuckin' insatiable bloody pain in my arse you've been ever since y'got 'ere?!"

you whimper, relaxing against the desk, and ghost tugs at your hair again, shaking his head.

"oi! y'don't get to be stupid just because y'r gettin' y'r cunny played with," ghost snaps. "y'r a right headache."

you laugh, getting up to your elbows, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as ghost scruffs johnny by the base of his mohawk and cups your pussy with one big hand. you gasp, leaning your head back, because finally, yes, it's all i want, please, please, please--

"'f you wanted to be my pet so bad," ghost murmurs, fitting himself behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he spits into your ear, "all ya had to do was fuckin' ask, swee'eart."

when your eyes open, ghost hums, clicking his tongue under the mask.

"use y'r words," he growls. "be a good girl, and say wot it is y'want."

"want you," you whine, and he sighs deeply, closing his eyes, and you drown out the sounds of johnny sputtering at your feet as ghost bends you at the hip a little more, arching your back.

"mmm...tha'sit. was tha' so hard?"

[naivegh0ul]

ghost who is soooo sensitive. like crazy sensitive. he struggles not to cum instantly when he's inside you because you just feel so good. so warm and wet and tight and fuck, he's cumming.

and when he cums, he cums. dumps bucket loads inside you. his voice gets all high and whiny when he cums, too. his hips jerking and his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck bc he's so embarrassed that he came before you even started.

the best thing about his sensitivity tho is that he can go again once he's finished cumming. doesn't matter if he's barely finished emptying his balls, he's going again, mouth on yours as he thrusts his sticky, cum-covered cock into you.

[sematarygirls]

        COWBOY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ oral (m! receiving), reader is kinda sheltered, mommy issues, parental death, running away from home, getting picked up by a handsome stranger

NOTES .ᐟ this was pretty fun to write tbh. i started this like a year ago and recently found it in my drafts, which led me here, so i hope yall enjoy it as much as i do.

Your worn cowboy boots thudded against the asphalt as you walked down the deserted country road, dragging your suitcase along. The summer sun shone brightly overhead, heating the atmosphere and causing a thin layer of sweat to coat your body. Your daddy's old cowboy hat sat atop your head, shielding your face from the sun's unrelenting, unforgiving rays. A loose white sundress swished softly with every step you took, slowly making your way farther and farther from your old life.

The death of your beloved father sent your already troubled mother into a state of disrepair. You watched as the mother that had sung you soft lullabies and stayed with you until you fell asleep transformed into someone you didn't recognize.

Most nights, you weren't sure where she was or if she was even alive until she inevitably came stumbling home in a drunken stupor through the front door of your little farmhouse in bumfuck nowhere, the screen door slamming behind her and startling you awake.

On the rare occasion that you saw her, she seemed to look through you. Her eyes were sunken with dark circles underneath them that greatly contrasted how bright and full of life they once had been. She was a shell of the woman she once was.

You tried your best to be there for her, but eventually, you realized that she wasn't going to change. She didn't want to get better, and you couldn't force her to.

On your eighteenth birthday, you made a difficult decision. You had been weighing it for a long time, wondering if you were doing the right thing. You wondered if your dad would be disappointed in you, if he would've wanted you to stay, but eventually, you knew that you had to do what was best for you.

You couldn't handle the constant worrying, only to be greeted with a cold shoulder the few times you did see your mother. You felt like you'd never have a life of your own in that house, suffocated by the memories of the happy family that once lived within the walls. You needed to start fresh—to give yourself the opportunity to be something more than a small town drunk like your mom.

You were leaving, and you were never coming back.

And for the first time in a long time, you had something to look forward to. You had a future that didn't revolve around taking care of someone else. You had hope that you could find something better out there, something more than this lonely life you'd grown so accustomed to.

You grabbed an old suitcase from the basement and threw it onto your bed. Opening it, your heart ached as you saw your name written in black sharpie on the light brown fabric. It was written in your father's handwriting, little doodles of stars and hearts surrounding it. For a moment, you had second thoughts about your decision, but ultimately, you pushed them away. you knew he would've wanted you to live a life worth something. He wouldn't want you to be confined to this house, worrying whether your mother would make it home every night.

You packed an assortment of clothing and little items that held sentimental value to you. You knew you had to choose carefully because there was only so much you could bring. Rifling around in your closet, you discovered your father's old cowboy hat. You stuffed it into the way back the day of his funeral, never wanting to see it again, but now, you knew you needed it more than ever.

It served as a reminder of home—not the house you were running away from, but the home that had once been filled with life and love. It reminded you of cold winter nights spent huddled by the fire and spooky stories told during thunderstorms. It reminded you of dancing in the kitchen while the three of you prepared dinner and listening to the rock station with a popsicle in hand as you curiously watched your dad work on his truck. It reminded you of a time before forehead kisses and goodnight stories were replaced by slamming screen doors and absent mothers.

You placed the hat atop your packed suitcase and went to sleep, your plan for tomorrow already set in motion. You woke up before your mother, quickly getting dressed and gathering your things before creeping into the living room. She was nowhere to be seen, probably having actually made it to her bedroom that night, but her purse was laying on the kitchen counter, a couple items spilling out from the way she had haphazardly thrown it when she got home.

Careful to not make any noise, you rummaged through, looking for her wallet. You didn't expect to find much, but you would take what you could get. After stuffing the cash you could find into your bra, so in the event that your suitcase was stolen, you'd still have something to your name, you took one last look around. You admired the height markings your father had made on the doorway, and the hole in the wall that he always swore he'd get around to fixing after bringing in a new couch went terribly wrong. A sad smile graced your face as you said goodbye to the place that had been your only home for as long as you'd known, turning the page and getting ready to embark on your journey to a new life.

Walking through the front door with your suitcase trailing behind you was like a weight had suddenly been lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in a long time, you didn't know what would happen next, and it frightened you in a way that was exhilarating.

The sound of a car approaching made you jump a little, the sound cutting through the quiet atmosphere that had previously only been filled with the light swishing of your dress, the sound of your suitcase wheels and boots on the asphalt, and the occasional chirp of birds. It was rare to encounter people on the deserted road you were traveling down since the area you were in was secluded and a good few miles from any houses or towns, so you knew to be cautious.

You turned your head, tilting the cowboy hat up to get a better look at the approaching vehicle and it's driver. It was an old grey-blue pickup truck with a white roof, a thin layer of dirt and grime built up along the exterior. You squinted your eyes to try and get a better look at the driver as they got closer, but the glare from the sun on the windshield hindered your view.

Hesitantly, you looked away from the truck, your gaze returning forward as you waited for it to pass, but to your surprise, it didn't. You clutched your suitcase tighter as the man pulled up beside you, not stopping completely, just rolling along to keep pace with you.

When the driver rolled the window down, you turned your head to face him, continuing to walk as you studied his face. He was a handsome man; you couldn't deny that. He had bright blue eyes that shone with intrigue, his pale pink lips pulled up into a smirk that had you torn between being deeply unsettled and utterly smitten for him. His brown hair was buzzed short, and he had a bit of stubble on his chiseled jawline along with a mustache on his upper lip—something you usually wouldn't have been privy to, but he made it look effortlessly good.

"What's a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all alone?" He asked with the faintest hint of a southern drawl, looking you up and down. It should have disgusted you—a random man hitting on you in the middle of nowhere—but for some reason, it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You debated on what to say. At first, you were gonna say that your mama always told you not to talk to strangers, but that sounded so childish that you immediately pushed it away. You weren't really great at talking to people. You'd often spent more time alone than with others. You simply shrugged, deciding against saying anything at all and making yourself sound foolish.

His gaze darted to your suitcase, finding himself intrigued and undeterred by your lack of an answer. "Where you headed, sweetheart?" He asked, continuing to drive beside you.

Truthfully, you didn't have a destination. You were just sorta planning to go wherever the wind took you, which admittedly, wasn't a very solid plan. "Anywhere but here," you said cryptically. It sounded a bit cheesy, but it was true. You just wanted to put as much distance between yourself and your childhood home as you possibly could.

His smirk widened into a full-blown grin as he leaned across the seat to throw open the passenger door. "Well, climb on in then. I can take you wherever you'd like to go," he offered, eyes glinting mischievously.

You didn't notice this, however. You weren't all that great at reading people due to your sheltered upbringing. You had gone to school, but it was a small one that you'd dropped out of at sixteen to try and take care of your mother.

You looked over at him, your eyes filled with hesitance as you nervously chewed your lip. You may have been a little naive, but you weren't completely stupid. You knew how unsafe it could be to catch a ride from a stranger. "That's awful kind of you, but... well, I don't think I should."

His demeanor didn't falter, an air of confidence surrounding him—like he was used to getting what he wanted, even if it took a little convincing. "I get it, darlin'," he nodded understandingly. "A pretty thing like you can't be too careful nowadays, but I promise you I ain't gonna hurt ya. Can't say the same for others, though."

Your eyes widened a bit at his words, and for the first time, you seemed to be able to look past your rose-colored glasses. You were a young woman walking alone in the middle of nowhere—an easy and vulnerable target to anyone that could have wanted to hurt you.

"Look, I ain't tryna scare ya," he said, seeming to notice the fear that his words had ignited within you. "But... well, there's a whole lotta bad people out here, sweetheart. I'd hate to go home and find that pretty face on the news or somethin'."

"Well, how do I know that you ain't some serial killer?" You asked, quirking an eyebrow. You stopped walking to face him fully, to which he abruptly stepped on the breaks.

"Serial killers don't usually offer their victim's rides now do they?" He grinned wolfishly, leaning back and draping his arm over the passenger's seat. "I reckon they usually take by force, but I s'pose I wouldn't know since I ain't one."

A frown tugged at your lips, your eyebrows furrowing in thought for a moment. "I guess you're right..." You didn't really know much about serial killers either if you were being honest. Well, not enough to know how they rounded up their victims anyway.

He grinned wider, as if he could tell that you were doubting yourself, and he found it amusing. "So, how 'bout it then? You gonna get in?"

"Promise you ain't gonna like kidnap me or somethin'?" You asked softly, apparently trusting that he would tell the truth.

His grin softened into a warm smile, and he chuckled lowly as he brought his free hand up to place over his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

You nodded, seeming to accept this as an accurate description of his intentions or rather, lack thereof. You picked up your suitcase and put it into his truck bed, all the while he watched you intently, his gaze lingering on the tantalizing view of thigh that your dress provided.

You climbed into the passenger's seat, pulling the cowboy hat off your head and placing it on the dash before closing the door and buckling yourself in. You weren't really sure where this handsome stranger was going to take you, and that's when it dawned on you that you had gotten into his car without even knowing his name.

You looked over at him, finding him already staring intently at you. You offered a shy smile, your fingers playing with the hem of your dress as you softly told him your name.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said, his deep southern drawl causing your name to roll off his tongue with a warmth akin to the way the summer sun had heated your skin. He put the truck in gear, the engine purring as he continued down the desolate highway. "Name's Rafe," he introduced himself, his gaze darting to you.

"The pleasure's all mine Mr. Rafe," you said politely. The man was not that much older than you—maybe two or three years—and thus was probably nowhere near old enough to regard as Mr, but you were taught that it was respectful to do so.

He grinned at the title, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. "Just Rafe's fine, darlin'," he insisted, casting you a sideways glance, his gaze lingering on your lips as you smiled shyly.

"Okay," you nodded, looking down at your lap as you fiddled with your dress. Rafe was awfully handsome, the hottest guy you'd ever seen by a longshot—not that that was a huge feat—and you found yourself extremely nervous with the fact that you were alone with him.

"So, what are you doin' out here all alone?" He asked, casting you a questioning glance as he took his eyes off the road briefly. "You didn't say earlier." His gaze fell to your lap, watching as your fingertips brushed the edge of your dress repeatedly, the fabric having ridden up due to your sitting position and revealed even more of your soft looking thighs.

You shrugged in response, just as you had earlier. You didn't really know how to explain your situation, and you hardly wanted to trauma dump on someone you barely knew, especially when you'd be in such close quarters for God knows how long. "I'm just... travelin'."

"Travelin'?" He echoed curiously, quirking an eyebrow. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as his gaze dropped to your thighs once more, the fabric of your dress inching up even more as you absentmindedly fiddled with it. He knew he shouldve been focused on the road and not his pretty passenger, but you were making it hard—in more ways than one. "What's got you on the road by yourself?"

"It's a long story," you mumbled, looking up and casting your gaze out the window, watching the scenery blur by as he did 80 on the interstate.

He hummed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel rhythmically as he looked back at the road. "You runnin' from somethin', sugar?" He asked curiously, your evasive nature leading him to believe that there was more to the story.

You rubbed your sweaty palms on your dress, something your father would have scolded for being unladylike. Your gaze darted to the cowboy hat on the dash as you spoke. "More like runnin' toward somethin'."

"Toward?" He asked curiously. "So, where you headed then?" He prompted, his fingers stilling their movements as he looked over at you again, trying to read your expression.

A smile pulled at your lips as you turned to him, your eyes locking for a moment. "It's more of a... metaphorical somethin'."

His eyebrows raised, intrigued by your cryptic response. Everything about you seemed to intrigue him. You were one big mystery wrapped up in just about the prettiest package he'd ever seen. "Metaphorical, huh?"

"Yknow, you got this tendency to just repeat what I say back to me in question form," you grinned, your tone slightly teasing as you settled more comfortably into conversation with the man. You examined his side profile carefully as he turned back to the road.

"And you got a tendency to talk in circles," he replied with a grin of his own, his eyes flicking back to you briefly before returning to the road. He liked looking at you, even if for a brief moment.

You thought for a moment, deciding that perhaps Rafe deserved a bit of an explanation, given that he was nice enough to give you a ride and all. "I ain't going nowhere specific," you shrugged, your eyes finding the cowboy hat again. "Just... looking for somethin' bigger, somethin' better, I s'pose."

"Bigger and better than what?" He prompted, casting another sideways glance at you. His gaze lingered on the way your lips parted as you spoke, feeling himself twitch in his jeans. He was a man that liked understanding things. He didn't like being on the outside looking in. He wanted to know everything. He was curious; it was in his nature.

"The life I had before," you said, your tone growing solemn, gaze never wavering from the worn cowboy hat as memories flashed before you.

He noted your shift in demeanor and the way you were staring at the hat like you were willing it to turn into something. "What's the deal with that?" He asked, feeling like he needed to know.

"It was my daddy's old hat," you smiled reverently. "He um- he died a couple years back," you explained, clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away to look out the window.

"I'm sorry, sugar," he said sympathetically. He wasn't the best at comforting people, but he wanted to try. He took one hand off the wheel, placing it atop one of yours on your lap, and as much as it was not the time, he couldn't help the way his dick hardened further at the feeling of your soft skin under his rough, calloused hand.

"'s fine," you felt your cheeks warm at the feeling of his large, warm hand on yours. Despite yourself and the topic of conversation, butterflies erupted in your stomach.

He left his hand there, feeling a bit like he was taking advantage of the situation but unable to pull himself away. He liked the way your lips parted and your eyes widened ever so slightly when he touched you. "So you're both runnin' toward and away from somethin' then?"

"Yeah, I s'pose," you nodded. He reluctantly pulled his hand back to the steering wheel, readjusting himself in his seat to find a more comfortable position for his hard-on. You found yourself missing his touch, his skin leaving a lingering sensation on yours.

He was hyper-aware of every little movement and sound you made. The way you shifted in your seat, the little hitch in your breath, the way your thighs pressed together. He swallowed thickly, trying to focus on the road, his jaw clenching as he tried to get a handle on his body's reaction to you.

"So, what about you?" You prompted, glancing over at him. You had told him a bit about yourself and thought it only fair you got some information in return.

"Me?" He asked, his voice a bit gruff. He cleared his throat, trying not to let his gaze wander to the way your dress's neckline dipped, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your chest. "Well, I'm headin' home. I've been away for a couple months, workin' on a ranch up north." He said, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he continued to drive.

You hummed in acknowledgement. "Did you like it?" You asked awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say. You weren't awfully good at carrying conversations.

"It was alright. Good money, good people, but it ain't home." He said with a small shrug. "'Sides, I got a lot of responsibilities back home. Family 'n all that. Couldn't stay away forever."

You nodded, listening to him explain. You were a little intrigued. You'd never been anywhere outside your home town. You yearned to travel, to see what the world—or at very least the country—had to offer beyond small town gossip and local church services.

He glanced at you, wondering what was going on inside that pretty little head of yours. He wanted to know more about you, wanted to know everything. He wanted to know what you were planning to do now, why you'd actually run from home, what you tasted like, how you'd sound moaning his name, how tight you'd be wrapped around him.

You pondered your next steps during this beat of comfortable silence. You were starving, so food seemed like it needed to be the first stop on this little roadtrip of yours. Then, you figured you'd find a bus stop and hop on the first bus outta town, letting fate decide where to take you.

As you sat there lost in thought, he was watching you intently between bouts of watching the road. He noticed the way your gaze would occasionally drift out the window, the way your hands would fidget with the hem of your dress, the way your lips would purse slightly as you seemed to be debating something in your head.

"You can just drop me at the next town," you finally spoke up, turning to look back at him as you seemed to have made up your mind. A semblance of a plan was better than no plan at all. Besides, what would this new life be without a little of the unknown. You had no idea when you left that morning that you'd run into a handsome cowboy, and that had turned out to be incredibly thrilling for you.

He frowned at the prospect of you leaving him so soon. You'd only just met, but he found himself wanting to spend more time with you. "The next town?" He repeated, echoing your words back to you again like he'd done before. "And, what's the plan when you get there, huh, sweetheart?"

"Gonna catch a bus," you shrugged noncommittally. "Go wherever the wind takes me."

He let out a short, humorless laugh, clearly expressing his disproval for your so-called plan. "You ain't never been nowhere before, have you?" He asked, already knowing the answer. You seemed so innocent, so naive. He couldn't just let you wander off alone, could he?

"Well... no," a small frown tugged at your lips. "But that's kinda the whole point of goin' where the wind takes me," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shook his head, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "That's a fool-proof way to end up in some real trouble, you know. A pretty little thing like yourself, wanderin' 'round alone. You could end up anywhere, with anyone."

"Well, thus far, I've ended up here, with you," you pointed out with a small smile. "So, I'd say my plan is workin' pretty well so far."

"That's only 'cause I'm a gentleman," he said, his eyes flicking briefly to yours. You couldn't help but wonder what if he wasn't such a gentleman. You weren't completely naive. You knew about sex and had always wondered what it was like, and now, with this incredibly sexy man before you, you found your thoughts particularly impure.

He watched the way your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, the way your breathing picked up ever so slightly. He could practically see the wheels turning in that head of yours. "What're you thinkin' 'bout, sugar?"

"Oh, um, nothin'," you said softly, your body heating up as his voice, so low and husky—definitely not helping your situation—tore you from your thoughts.

"Nothin', huh?" He drawled, not believing you for a second. He had been with enough women to know that look on your face, and he was pretty sure he had a good idea of where your thoughts were headed.

You bit your lip nervously. You knew he had at least some attraction to you because you had eyes. You could see the bulge in his jeans but had done everything you could to resist staring at it, despite the growing urge to reach out and touch it. You wanted to see him, feel him, maybe even taste him, but you were completely out of your depth here.

"You're thinkin' 'bout somethin' that's makin' you bite your lip and press them pretty little thighs together," he said, his voice low and sultry. "So, why don't you just tell me what it is, hmm?"

You looked over at him, your eyes widened a bit at his forward words, also at the fact that he had noticed. Though, it wasn't exactly like you were being discrete. "Wh- I- well, it's not very ladylike," you replied sheepishly.

"Sugar, there ain't nothin' ladylike 'bout the way I'm feelin' right now either," he said, his hand moving from the steering wheel to rest high up on your thigh.

You couldn't help but laugh at his choice of words, looking up at him through your lashes as you tried to find the words. "I don't know how to um- say it." You said, your heart beating nervously in your chest at a speed that doctors would probably find concerning.

"Then show me," he encouraged, his hand slowly inching higher up on your thigh. "You can do that, can't you? Show me what you were thinkin' about?"

You hesitated before nodding. You couldn't believe you were about to give a man you'd just met head for the first time in your life, but your body was moving quicker than your brain, unbuckling your seatbelt. You pulled your legs onto the seat underneath you, kneeling on the worn leather with your body facing him. You looked at him for confirmation before you made another move.

"Atta girl," he praised, his voice husky with desire. His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair encouragingly. "Go on, sugar. Show me what that pretty mouth can do." He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs wider to give you better access.

The lack of center console in the old truck was a blessing as your fingers fumbled with his belt. You were already nervous, and you knew you didn't have to tell him that you'd never done this before because it was written all over your face.

He watched with an amused smirk as you struggled with his belt for a moment. He found your inexperience endearing. After a beat, you finally managed to undo his belt, your shaky hands moving to his jeans, popping the button and unzipping them with much more ease.

"That's it, baby. You're doin' just fine," he encouraged, his voice strained with barely contained desire. His hips lifted slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock, the tip flushed and glistening with precum. You took in a sharp breath, your eyes widening a little. You'd seen one before but never in person and never quite that big.

"Wrap your hand around it, sugar," he instructed, his voice low and commanding. His hand tightened in your hair as you wrapped your hand around the base tentatively. "Just like that. Now, stroke it. Nice and slow." You followed his directions, slowly running your hand up and down his hard length, coaxing a low groan from his throat as his hips jumped just a little at the feeling of your soft hand on him.

"Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest and his grip on the wheel tightening. "Now, put that pretty mouth on me." You wrapped your lips around his hot tip, sucking gently and coaxing his precum onto your tongue.

"Mmmm... That's it, sugar. Just like that," he praised, trying to keep his eyes on the road and the truck in the correct lane. His hand guided your head, his hips gently bucking forward as he slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. "You're doin' so good, baby."

Your fingers flexed around the base of his cock, your grip tightening ever so slightly as yoy took more of him into your mouth, your brows furrowing in concentration while you did. "Relax your throat, baby. You can take more of me," he coached gently, his hand tightening in your hair. You did as he said, trying to relax and take more of him into your warm, wet mouth. "That's it, sugar."

The combined sounds of your heavy breathing mingled with the wet noises his cock was making as it slid in and out of your mouth. You gagged a little as the tip of his cock nudged your uvula, triggering your body's built-in safety feature against choking.

He felt you gag and knew he should have pulled you back, reassured you that you could go as slow as you needed to and that there was no need to rush, but shit, you felt so good and seemed so eager; he couldn't bring himself to stop you.

He kept pushing forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow around him. He could feel your throat constricting around his length, and it was the most incredible feeling. You whimpered around him, your nails digging into his thighs and eyes watering, but still, you didn't pull away.

Your little whimper only spurred him on, sending a vibration through him that had him moaning, his grip on your hair bordering on painful. "You're taking it so well, baby," he praised, his voice strained with pleasure. "Shit, I'm so close."

Not long after, his hips jerked forward, and he held you in place, his cock buried in your throat as he came hard with a groan, his hot cum shooting down your throat in thick, salty streams. The unfamiliar taste clung to your tongue, even after you forced the warm liquid down your throat and pulled off of him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

He sat there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart before he tucked himself back into his pants with one hand, his other keeping the truck steady. "You did so good, sugar. Real good." He murmured, his voice still husky from his orgasm.

You felt a wave of satisfaction roll over you at his praise, but you didn't know exactly what to do from here. Your plans hadn't changed just because you decided to expand your sexual horizons in the front seat of a barely-stranger's truck. Though, it felt a little awkward still asking him to let out you out at the nearest town after what you'd just done.

"We'll be comin' up to the next town soon," he said, as if reading your mind. "How 'bout you let me take you out for a bite to eat, and afterwards, if you still want me to drop you at the bus station, I'll oblige," he proposed, willing to do anything to spend more time with you.

You smiled, nodding. That seemed like a perfectly reasonable request to you. Besides, you had already planned on stopping for food before heading to the bus station anyway. "Okay, that sounds nice," you agreed softly, buckling yourself back in because safety first.

"I know a real good diner in town. They serve the best burgers and milkshakes this side of the Mississippi," he said with a grin, placing his hand back on your thigh, his thumb brushing back and forth across your skin. Your smile widened, stomach doing flips at his touch, and you found yourself thinking that maybe your adventure could wait just a little while if it meant spending more time in the handsome cowboy's presence.

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee /

[vilintciay]

" Ohh mmfp- FUCK..! Waka- TOSHI!.. Ahgg- God-."

Your eyes rolled back to the back of your skull, drool seeping out from the corner of your mouth. Above you was Ushijima Wakatoshi, ruthlessly pounding into you from behind, keeping both your arms pinned behind your back with a grip of a single hand as he pressed you further and further into the mattress from how hard he was fucking you stupid.

Your head laid turned to the side, cheek pressed up on cushion below as you gazed up at him with your ass in the air, stood and displayed all for him to bury his thick cock balls deep inside your tight, sloppy wet cunt.

"Ahhg- mnpff- mm- yeah! Ohh fuuckk! Yes, yes, right there!"

You mewled and cried out with pleasure, moaning and whining under him while his expression stood the same. A stoic and blank face with dark and lust filled eyes taking up each bounce and jiggle of your tits, ass, and thighs whenever he'd pull out his thick cock out of your tight cunt, plunging back in hard and rough. Grunting only occasionally.

You were out of it. So fucking out of it that you didn't even notice the sound of your apartment's door opening, light shuffling coming from the living room as someone called out a greeting. But it didn't reach you. Too fucked up and cock drunk that you could only focus on the way his hand would lift in the air to land a harsh and almost skin-tearing smack on your ass, squealing with delight as pain mixed with pleasure, stomach twisting tighter and tighter.

Your orgasm was building up fast, so fast you could barely catch up with your own breathing, slowly coming undone beneath him as you writhe, screaming out his name so loud you weren't surprised if you'd get at least 10 noise complaints from your neighbors. Oh wait.. that's right. This wasn't your house.

With a full body shudder, you felt the knot in your stomach completely burst, squeezing down hard on his pulsing cock as you squirted all over him and the bed below before slumping over and panting. What was I thinking of again?

Oh right, this wasn't my house. This... Wasn't my house?

... Oh. Right. It was his house. But only I didn't live here anymore.

It was only then you'd snap out of your daze, the door to the bedroom opening, your head snapping to look over at the door way. There stood a familiar woman, looking dumbfounded.

"Babe..?"

You were now his ex-girlfriend after all.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

I can't stop thinking about giving Steve a languid, and tortuously slow hand-job. His t-shirt is rucked up enough to show off his soft hairy tummy, and his boxers are pulled down just enough to free his heavy cock from where it was eagerly tenting underneath the material. It's quiet, and neither of you are in any hurry. His pink tip is streaming with pre-cum to slick your fist as you stroke him. You're leaning into him, your lips pressing a hot trail of kisses into his neck whilst he lets out soft little whimpers of pleasure. His freckled skin is flushed with a scarlet pink sheen as he desperately begs for his release. When you finally take pity on him enough to stop your teasing, his stomach muscles tense and he's spilling rope after rope over the knuckles of your fist.

[rissouu]

could you do a plug! eren x reader where eren gets super overprotective 🩷

yesss ofc! im sorry this took a while i just had to get some damn motivation 😭 i been slacking.. my bad pookies!

his hands stayed wrapped around your waist as you walked through the mall, he promised to take you on a shopping spree. and right now the only thing you really needed were shoes— so foot locker it was.

it was like eren could sense all the stares you were getting, in his eyes those tiny ass the shorts you wore barely covered up anything.. (he was just being dramatic, the shorts weren’t that tiny but he still hated them.) he made a mental note to toss the shorts out as soon as you two made it home.

he tried getting you to change before you guys even arrived at the mall, but of course you weren’t going to listen to him— you never did. that’s one of the characteristics he loved about you but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

when you finally reached the famous shoe store, you couldn’t hide your excitement. you’d always been a sneaker head after all, always having the newest pair of dunks or jordan’s, a lot of people envied you because of it honestly, but oh well.

you couldn’t resist snatching out of eren’s hold and practically running towards the shoes on display. the dunks that you’d been wanting for months finally dropped, and you just had to get them before they sold out.

“ma you know how i feel ‘bout you walkin’ off on your own,” he made his way back over to you, annoyance evident on his face. eren hated when you did this, he wanted(needed) to be by your side at all times. why couldn’t you understand that?

“im sorry babyyy, i just really need to check if they have my size!” you bent over to take the shoe off the rack— completely forgetting that your shorts were the type to rise up when you did so.

you didn’t think too much about it and stayed in your current position— throughly inspecting the shoe. the color looked better online but shit, it was still cute.

eren eventually got tired of standing, he knew how you got when it came to shoes. he’d be standing there for a whole damn hour fucking with you, so he just sat down on one of the benches used to try on shoes.

he always got so bored coming to stores with you because you always tuned him out and wandered off on your own. you were addicting to shopping and even more addicted to shoes.. the only thing he could do was sit down and go on his phone, since you’d clearly be taking forever.

you were so focused on the baby blue shoes that you hardly even noticed anyone’s presence behind you, turns out one of the workers had been eyeing you for quite a while now.. waiting for his chance to make a move. your beauty caught him off guard and he knew he couldn’t let a fine thing like you just walk away.

“hello welcome, did you need help with- oh god damn..”

that was enough to finally get eren’s attention off his phone as his eyes snapped towards the scrawny dude licking his lips— enjoying the sight of your shorts working against you.

with a low chuckle your man stood from his seat, slowly inching towards you to make his presence known. he snatched you by your waist— easily causing your form to straighten out. he took his eyes off you for one second and you’re bent over with them little ass shorts on?

he had half a mind to just fuck you right here and now to let all these muh’ fucka’s know who you belong to, but luckily he had enough self restraint.

“i’ll kill you right now man, ion even play like that. better walk yo’ ass on somewhere,” eren slightly lifted his black tee— flashing his gun that was strapped on his waist. he roughly yanked you behind him so the fucker wouldn’t dare to look at you again, and the only thing you could do was let him.

not that you would’ve resited anyway, you loved when eren got aggressive like this (not that you’d ever admit it).

“o-oh that’s you? i apologize i didn’t-“

“’fuck up talkin’ to me yo, you got five seconds to walk away before i put a bullet in you.” one death glare from eren was enough to send the worker running off in fear.

you stayed silent because you knew better than to say anything when he got like this, you were in for it once you got back home.. that’s for sure.

“fuck those shoes, we’re leaving. and as soon as we get in the car i want them shorts off,”