#mash potato with legs

[msburgundy]

tonight we dine like henry VIII

[fregget-frou]

I’m sad so I drew my favorite couple <33

Hehehe pretty people

Also here is my friends dog he has been riding me over thru this

His name is Pupa

[thevalleyisjolly]

I have zero involvement or investment in whatever hell the pirate fandom’s been apparently raising, but all I’ll say is that clearly the best pirates are the Pirates Who Don’t Do Anything.

[theloveinc]

I am so excited to eat thanksgiving leftovers tomorrow anyway… bakugo second puberty

[blujayonthewing]

PUNKINS TIMES

[nbmudkip]

kohame

[frostedpane]

[eudico-my-beloved]

im hungry...

[rosydreamiing]

I have never been as happy to come home to my cat and jump straight to bed.

[hazza-bear-care]

Finish

You reveal a secret to Bucky that he's adamant on fixing

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, nipple play, squirting

~~~~~~

You snorted a laugh at the antics of the Impractical Jokers, soda just about to flow through your nostrils as Joe flung scoops of mashed potatoes on the plates of strangers in a fancy restaurant. Bucky chuckled as well, popping a chip in his mouth, trailing his hand over your thigh.

You shot him a look out of the corner of your eye as you took another swig of your Coke, trying to ignore how Bucky's fingers felt rubbing over the thin materials of your leggings. You readjusted, leaning into Bucky's touch and laying your head on his shoulder, laughing hard as Sal ended up falling to the floor during a challenge.

"Are you alright?" Bucky murmured, his metal fingers still trailing over your skin.

"I'm alright, just enjoying your company." You responded, ignoring the goosebumps that popped up in the wake of his touch.

"I'm enjoying yours too, sweetheart. It's rare that we get the entire compound to ourselves." Bucky's fingers dipped past the elastic waist of your leggings, sliding them over the expanse of your hip. He paused there for a moment, petting your soft skin with his long Vibranium fingers as you laughed again at the Jokers on the screen. As he flexed his fingers again, you couldn't help but look up at your boyfriend; his beard had grown past the scruffy stage, his long brown hair curling at the tips as it dried from the shower he had taken about thirty minutes prior. His gorgeous blue eyes were glued to the television, and his pink lips were curved into a smile as the Jokers argued over who won versus who lost in order to receive the punishment.

"You're staring, honey." Bucky commented, rubbing your hip bone once again.

"Sorry, Buck. You're just so pretty and you smell so good." You whispered, burying your nose into his red Henley and inhaling his manly smell of teakwood and bourbon. As he chuckled, you crawled into Bucky's lap, pressing your face into the crook of his neck and running your fingers through his hair.

"Honey, if you wanted to fool around, all you had to do was ask." Bucky joked, pressing a kiss to your temple and wrapping his arms around your waist, pinning you to his lap. You ground down onto his lap with a smirk, peppering his face with kisses.

"Can we fool around?" You mutter, biting your lip in anticipation.

Bucky laughed, a deep rumble in his throat as he swept you into his arm and upstairs to his room, capturing your lips with his as he walked. He placed you gently on the bed, kneeling over you and holding your face so carefully as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. A moan escaped your lips as his tongue danced with yours, your small fingers tangling in his damp hair.

Bucky pulled away from you, stripping off your shirt and snapping off your bra in one swift movement. He settled in between your legs and pulled your leggings and panties off, kissing up your thighs and torso before smashing his lips against yours once again. Another moan slipped past your lips, laying back onto the mattress as Bucky crawled over you and pinned you to your spot on the bed.

Once he had you positioned the way he wanted, Bucky stripped bare, his hard cock smacking against his stomach once freed from the restricting confines of his briefs. He tackled you, lips once again pressed to yours as a heated make out session began. Your fingers tangled in his hair as your teeth and tongues clashed, strings of saliva connecting the two of you. He once more pulled away from your intoxicating lips, trailing his mouth down your neck and leaving bruises in his wake. He wrapped his lips around your left nipple while his flesh hand pinched your right, causing your jaw to drop as another whine fell from your mouth. In a blink, he switched his assault on your tits, releasing your nipples with a pop as he slithered further down the bed and planted himself between your legs.

Sex with Bucky was better than anything you could have imagined, better than the smut you had read in books, yet something blocked you from actually achieving an orgasm.

"Buck, wait." You called, snapping your legs closed before he had a chance to touch you. As soon as you closed your legs, Bucky pulled himself away from you, kneeling at the foot of the bed with a look of confusion on his face.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Bucky asked, worry buried deep in his icy blue eyes.

Your chin quivered as anxiety pooled in your belly, covering your watery eyes with your hands as you muffled a sniffle.

"Baby, talk to me, please." Bucky crawled up to the head of the bed and wrapped you in his arms, allowing your tears to soak into his skin as you cried.

"It's nothing. It's stupid." You whined, hiccupping between sobs.

"Honey, it has to be something. Are you hurt? Did I do something?" Bucky asked, running his fingers through your hair as you continued to cry.

"No, Bucky, you didn't do anything wrong. This is a me problem."

"Please, let me help. Talk to me, baby."

You took a deep breath, pulling your face out of Bucky's neck and wiping your face. His thumbs followed, swiping some rogue tears that you missed. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he patiently waited for you to find your voice and tell him what's wrong.

"I love you. You know that, right?" You asked, glassy eyes finally meeting his.

"Of course I know that. I love you too, honey." Bucky answered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I love you. I love how you treat me, how you look at me, how you fuck me. But...." You trailed off, biting your bottom lip anxiously.

"But?" Bucky pressed, heart hammering in his chest. Were you breaking up with him? Were you in love with someone else?

"I don't think I've had an orgasm. Don't get me wrong, Buck, you're amazing in bed and you do everything I love, that turns me on, and I've been close before, but I just..." You couldn't finish your sentence as the tears started again. You felt worthless, broken. Here was this gorgeous man who loved you, cherished you, worshipped you, and you couldn't even give him an orgasm in return.

"You just can't get over the edge?" Bucky finished for you, wiping your tears again as you nodded.

"I can't get out of my head. I can't relax enough to just, let it happen. I can't do it by myself when you're gone on missions, I clearly can't do it with your help. I think I'm broken." You clarified with a loud sob, burying your face in your hands again as Bucky ran his hands over your back, pulling you back into his arms for a bone crushing hug. He let you cry for as long as you needed, shushing you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as your cries eventually slowed.

"Look at me." Bucky ordered, gripping your shoulders to pull you away from him, looking at your tear-soaked face. "You are not broken, honey. You are perfect, beautiful, strong, and smart and I love you with all my heart and soul. This is something that I'm positive I can help with, but only if you'll let me. We don't have to do anything right now, okay? We can get dressed, go back to watching TV, and we can pig out for the rest of the day if you'd like."

"No, I want to do this. You at least deserve an attempt." You smiled softly as Bucky laughed, his face splitting in two as his smile grew wide.

"Alright then, baby. This is all about you, okay? I don't want you to worry about me, you know I'll finish." Bucky joked, burying his face in your neck, nibbling lightly against your soft skin. You also laugh, giggling softly at the feeling of his beard scratching against your neck. You buried your fingers in his hair once again, pulling him from your neck and kissing him hard.

He flipped you onto your back in a flash, a small squeal leaving you as Bucky pinned you to the bed again, lips still pressed against yours. He slowly moved down your body, kissing every expanse of skin he could find before wrapping his lips around your nipple again and sucking hard, grazing his teeth along it softly. As you moaned above him, running your fingers through his hair, he switched to your other nipple and bit that one a little harder which caused you to gasp and arch your back. With a smirk, Bucky trailed his lips further down until he was eye level with your swollen pussy, his big hands holding your thighs open wide as he settled between them. He leaned forward, burying his face into you and inhaling deeply, moaning at the smell before quickly dipping his tongue past your folds. You threw your head back and moaned softly at the intrusion, your hands tugging on his wavy brown locks as you pulled him closer to your core.

"Patience is a virtue, sweetheart." Bucky mumbled against you, the vibrations of his gravelly voice shaking you to the core. You whined and bucked your hips against his face, feeling one hand grip your wrist hard, pinning you to the bed. Without hesitation, Bucky wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard. You moaned loudly, your eyes instantly rolling back in your head as he alternated between licking and sucking at your sensitive nub, his fingers hovering at the edge of your entrance.

"Oh, my fucking God, Bucky!" You cried, trying to pull your wrist free from his hand. He tightened his grip, tugging you forward slightly and dipping his metal fingers into you. He moaned against your clit as you greedily absorbed his fingers, instantly curling them upwards to brush against your spongy g-spot. Your legs tensed and a chill rolled down your spine as Bucky continued his assault on your pussy, your moans growing louder as you got closer to your tipping point. As you clenched around his fingers, he knew you were getting close. He pulled his mouth away from your soaked folds, his metal thumb swiping against it furiously as he leaned over you, your hands immediately wrapping around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

"You're doing so good for me, baby. Feel so good wrapped around my fingers." Bucky praised as a moan pulled you away from his lips, your eyebrows knitting together as you concentrated on how he was making you feel. "Don't think about it, honey. Let it happen. Just feel it for me, baby."

You nodded furiously, relaxing further into the bed as Bucky's fingers pumped in and out, hitting all the right spots with every thrust. Bucky kissed your mouth one last time before slithering back down between your thighs and wrapping his lips around your clit once more. Your fingers tangled in his hair again as a loud moan ripped out of you, the warmth in your belly growing, spreading through you as you danced on the edge of your orgasm.

"Fuck, I'm so close." You whispered softly, not wanting to distract yourself from the orgasm you were so close to finally achieving. Bucky's enhanced hearing caught what you said, prompting him to thrust his fingers into you at a rapid pace, his mouth still working on your clit. He moaned against the bundle of nerves, relishing in how tightly you began to clench around the three thick fingers plunged deep inside you. Your body seemed to move on its own as you began thrusting your hips, coaxing yourself closer and closer to the edge as you moaned loudly and repeatedly, steadily growing in volume until you were screaming. With an almost audible snap, your vision grew white, your jaw dropped all the way to your chest as fire enveloped you. The tips of your toes and fingers tingled and your limbs felt like jelly as you forced yourself to breathe, the sudden burst of air a welcome relief.

"There we go. Good girl, honey. My good girl. You did so well, you look so pretty when you cum for me." Bucky cooed, kissing your neck as he waited for you to come down from your high. His fingers were still deep inside you, the feeling of your fluttering walls making his cock twitch, but he didn't care. He wanted to make sure you were okay. You are all that matters to him, now and always.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Bucky staring at you expectantly. Taking a deep breath and nodding slowly, you blinked a few times to stem the tears that were rapidly building up.

"I'm okay." You mumbled, choking on your words as you cried once more.

"I know you are, my love. You're okay. You're perfect. I'm so proud of you." Bucky responded, wrapping you into a comforting hug, the throbbing of his cock going ignored as he comforted you. Your cries died down after a few more minutes, and only then did you realize that his fingers were still buried in you. You purposefully clenched around them, bringing his attention back to you.

"Did I finish?" You meekly asked, a bright red blush spreading over your face and chest.

"You didn't just finish. You squirted." Bucky answered, voice strained like he was holding something back. Your eyes grew wide as you went to sit up, looking between your legs to see a dark spot on the sheets below you.

"I didn't know I could do that. I'm sorry." You apologized, bringing your hands up to cover your face in shame.

"Don't apologize for that, we have a washing machine for a reason, honey. That was so fucking hot. Are you up for seeing if you can do it again?" Bucky asked, slowly thrusting his fingers in you once more. You pulled your hands away from your face, smashing your lips against his in a clash of teeth and tongues.

"Absolutely." You answered, kissing him again as he rolled over you to lay you back against the pillows once more. You went to reach for his weeping cock, but Bucky quickly locked both of your hands in one of his again.

"I told you, don't worry about me, baby. Just let yourself feel good. Let me help you." Bucky pleaded, his dark eyes boring into yours as you nodded. He pinned your hands above your head as he kissed you ferociously, pulling his fingers out of you and positioning himself at your entrance, soaking his cock with your slick. You hissed at the feeling of being empty as Bucky pumped himself, pushing the head of his cock inside you and stealing the breath from your lungs. He stilled inside you, allowing you to catch your breath and adjust to the intrusion, mentally praying to himself to keep his cool. You were clenching around his cock like you were sending Morse code and it was the most wonderful feeling Bucky had ever experienced in his life.

You signaled for him to continue, attempting to tug your hands free from his grip as he thrusted deeply inside of you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as his cock rubbed against your g-spot with every thrust.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good wrapped around my cock. You were made for me, baby. God, I love you so much." Bucky murmured, crashing his lips to yours as he swallowed your moans.

"I love you too, Bucky. Fuck, don't stop, please!" You whined as Bucky pulled away from the kiss, moaning loudly as his hips ground against your clit in time with the speed of his thrusts.

"I won't, baby. I'm not stopping until you squirt around my dick." His vulgar words made your pussy clench, leading Bucky to groan deeply in the back of his throat. He released your wrists and wrapped his cold metal hand around your throat, squeezing the sides lightly as his pace sped up impossibly faster.

Your jaw dropped as you adjusted to the new, brutal pace Bucky set, dragging your nails down his arms, scratching marks into his sweaty skin. You reached around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss; sloppy and desperate, a flurry of teeth and tongues until he pulled away. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, releasing his hand from your throat and trailing it between your legs, pressing against your clit.

"Fuck! More, Bucky, oh fuck!" You cried, throwing your head back against the pillows as Bucky's fingers played with your clit, rolling and pinching it as he accommodated your demands for more. You clenched tighter around his rock-hard dick as you scratched down his back with one hand, the other resting on his hip as he continued to thrust deeply inside you.

"You're close, aren't you, honey? I can feel it, oh fuck! Come on, baby. Let me feel it. Cum for me, sweetheart, I've got you." Bucky moaned, his eyes never once leaving your face as it contorted into a look of bliss. After three more hard thrusts and a particularly rough pinch to your clit, you exploded.

With a scream of his name, you thrashed under Bucky as your orgasm ripped through you aggressively. You felt a gush of fluid as Bucky continued his assault on your battered pussy, letting you ride out your high. As you came down from cloud nine, Bucky's thrusts slowed, pulling out of your bruised hole and hovering over you as you attempted to catch your breath.

"How are you feeling?" Bucky whispered, peppering your face with kisses before planting one final one to your mouth, plunging his tongue down your throat, chuckling against your lips as you moaned once more.

"Mmmm, I'm feeling amazing. How are you feeling? Did you finish too?" Bucky smiled softly as you fussed over him, attempting to sit up. With another kiss to your lips, Bucky pushed you back down against the pillows.

"I'm fine, Princess, I promise. I told you not to worry about me." Bucky cooed, pressing another kiss to your lips as he stood from the bed, silently ordering you to stay put as he walked to the connecting bathroom. You laid in bed, boneless and thoroughly fucked... and suddenly feeling very guilty. Bucky returned with a wet rag in his hands, running the cool cloth between your legs to clean the sticky mess you left. Silently, Bucky picked you up and carried you to the bathroom, turning on the shower and plopping you down under the warm stream of water.

With a bid to return shortly, Bucky left you to sit on the floor of the shower, letting the warm water cascade over your sore muscles. Left to your own thoughts, you let out a sniffle as a few tears flowed down your cheeks. When Bucky came back, he scooped you off the shower floor and held you close to his chest, running his fingers through your wet hair.

"What's wrong, baby?" Bucky whispered, pressing a kiss to your hairline. Your chin wobbled against his chest, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut as you let out a shuddering breath, a sob not following too far behind.

"I don't know, Buck! I'm overwhelmed, and feeling guilty, and I don't know why!" You whined, burying your face further into Bucky's wet chest. You felt him chuckle softly as you grip him tighter.

"Oh, honey. It's alright, I promise. You don't owe me anything, okay? I did this because I love you with my entire being, and we're definitely doing it again. For now, I've got you. I've got you." Bucky cooed softly against your hair. You continued to cry softly as Bucky cleaned and washed you, kissing your tears away whenever he caught one rolling down your cheek.

Once you were dressed in warm pajamas, Bucky wrapped you in his arms, reassuring you as many times as you needed to hear it that he was okay. You fell asleep before you could believe him, but he meant it when he said you'd be doing it again.

He got you to squirt twice in one night, and he's going to spend the rest of his life getting you to do it over and over again. He couldn't wait.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: When your boyfriend finds out he didn't make you come, his anger quickly turns into lust.

Genre: SMUT (nsfm)

Warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving/giving), teasing, cursing, mature themes, fingering, talk of sex and orgasms (obviously)!

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

"So, how's your boyfriend?" Dorcas Meadows asks you one evening at dinner. She leans in closer and she sings-songs the questions as if your boyfriend is some kind of burning hot scandal. You glance up from your plate, your eyebrows creasing, as you cover your mouth to swallow and then answer your friend, 

"He's fine. Why do you ask?" you can't help the warmth that rises in your cheeks at the mention of James. Sure, you've only been dating for three months but it's been an absolutely amazing three months. 

"No, no, I meant in the bedroom," Dorcas deadpans which causes you to almost choke on nothing as your other friends chuckle. 

"How'd you know about that?" You ask, sending a glance at Lily Evans who looks sheepish as she shrugs her shoulders from beside Dorcas. She was the only one who was supposed to know you had slept with James a week earlier. You made her promise not to tell anyone because well, the experience had been slightly disappointing. 

"Heard he didn't make you finish," Dorcas continues carelessly and your eyes round when you see James and his friends come up from behind her. Dorcas didn't see them and she finishes her sentence with a wide smirk, "Who would have guessed James Potter is shit at making girls come?"

Your heart pounds in your ears as James stands behind Dorcas, his mouth open and his cheeks suddenly burning crimson. His friends stand on either side of him, their faces drained of color, and you feel like you could just crawl into a hole and die. Your fake moans come back to haunt you; 

"James, J-James," you groaned, wrapping your legs around him as you bruised your face in his neck. James's curls stuck to his forehead as he moaned into your skin and sucked on your collarbone. Thinking you had finished, he pulled out and kissed your lips before he smiled an exhausted smile. 

"What?" Your boyfriend mutters, his voice shaky. His friends are silent, not daring to make a sound as yours look horrified for you. Dorcas's shoulders are tense and she looks at you, muttering a "sorry," behind her breath as she shoves her mashed potatoes in her mouth.

You've never seen James leave the Great Hall so quickly and you sprint after him. You manage to catch his arm and pull him into an empty classroom. You press your hands to his chest, letting him lean against a wall, but he just pulls your hands away.

"James Potter is shit at making girls come?" He repeats Dorcas's words, his tone piqued, and you can't tell if he's more upset or disheartened by the implications of the words. "When we," he pauses and turns his head away from you, "you didn't orgasm?" 

Frantically, you claw at his collar, shaking your head as guilt overwhelms you. "No–I- I didn't, but James," 

"You faked your orgasm?!" James interrupts, hurt now evident in his eyes as his voice grows more squeaky.

"James, I- I didn't mind," you start to explain, "Really! You were just so close and I could tell you wouldn't last much longer and- I needed more time. I didn't want to make you wait for me," you bite your lip, looking up at him. 

James's chest is rising and falling rapidly. His dark, hazel eyes flicker from yours to your lips and then to all your features in the middle. Gently, he lowers your hands from his collar. "Y/n, why didn't you tell me?" his voice comes out strained and broken.

Your heart shatters. "And why have you been going around telling all your friends I'm shit at making you come when you never even gave me the chance! I thought you had!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," your expression hardens and you scrunch your nose, "No one was supposed to know. I only told Lily because she's my best friend. I tell her absolutely everything! I guess she must have mentioned it to the others. I'm really sorry, James. Are you terribly angry with me?"

James frowns. He obviously wants to feel angry with you. He wants to be seething mad that you faked your pleasure and then went around telling your friends, but all he can think of is that night. How you looked; that beautifully flushed expression, mussed hair against his pillow, the way your lips had opened and closed to let slip your moans. 

James clenches his fists. Had that all been a lie?

He looks at you now and his eyebrows scrunch. He walks closer to the wall, backing you into it as you stare at him. You can't help the way your heart is beating as his closeness. "Okay, tell me, what did I do that made you feel good then?" James asks seriously and you're surprised by the question.

You'd expected more yelling, or blaming—

—definitely less seducing. 

"I-," you pause when James's eyes narrow and his hand moves to hold under your chin, wrapped easily around your neck. You inhale, eyes widening as he applies some pressure. He looks angry but there is also a deep, lustful, fire burning behind his eyes. His breath fans over your mouth as he whispers, 

"What. made. you. feel. good?"

"I- I liked when you kissed me, kissed behind my ears, kissed my collarbone," you mutter, breathing becoming even harsher as you remember that night. How you'd been sprawled out on his bed, legs intertwined, and he'd kissed all your worries away. James wastes no time in attaching his lips to your neck, under your ear, and you let out a shaky breath. 

"I- also- I liked when you used your fingers," you say as if prompted by the feeling of James's foot sliding over yours and pushing your legs apart. His hand dips down to your panties and he feels how wet they've become. He doesn't comment on it, just slips his hand under them and teases your clit.

"You should have told me," he reprimands in a whisper, his fingers sliding up and down your slit. 

You clutch onto his arms and shake your head, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you mutter like a prayer. 

"You should have told me because I wouldn't have stopped until my girl had come for real," James says with a nip at your skin. You let out a whine as his finger easily slides into you and he kisses you to muffle the sound.

"Fuck, my gorgeous girl. How could you?" he says as he pulls away and looks at you with slightly glossy eyes. "How could you not tell me?"

"I didn't want to embarrass you," you whimper as he runs his thumb on your clit. 

"Embarrass me?" James's eyes darken and he uses the hand holding your chin to push your head against the wall a little harshly, he scoffs, "You did just that and so much worse, my lovely," he pauses, "It doesn't matter anymore because I'll show you that James Potter can make his girl come." 

"I'm sorry," you say again. You chew your lip to suppress the needy sounds you're making. James shakes his head with a smirk and kisses the side of your mouth. He then moves his lips onto yours, teasing you with his tongue. 

"You will be," he smirks and slides his hands down your sides until he's on his knees in front of you. You look at him, his hair is messy and his expression is flustered. James grins wolfishly. He squeezes your hips and pulls up your skirt to bunch around your waist as he kisses above your panties.

"Did I not spend enough time on foreplay with my girl? Is that what it was, lovely? Was the feel of my cock just not enough for you," he soothes your embarrassed whines with another sweet kiss on your exposed stomach, "don't be shy, it's okay. You should have told me," he insists again, his words still a little harsh.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," is all you can manage to mutter, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel James's hands grip onto your thighs. You're already soaked. How embarrassing. James smirks and pulls down your panties. He slides his index over your entrance and hums when he feels your wetness. With a wider smirk, he spreads your pussy lips and exposes your needy clit. 

"You're so needy, love," James teases, "I just can't resist kissing you all over." 

As he says this, he attaches his lips to your clit and you let out a broken moan. Your hands find his hair and you chew on your lip so your noises aren't muffled. James hadn't done anything like this the last time. It had been messy and needy the first time. He'd used his fingers to open you up but you'd both been so eager, you'd missed foreplay. 

It seems likely the lack of foreplay was the issue because you feel like you're in heaven now. 

"J-James," you moan, almost incoherent as he licks and sucks at your core like a starved man. You didn't think he'd be so good at this. Your thighs clench around his head and when he pushes them apart, you moan uncontrollably. 

"Don't," James reprimands as he opens your legs and looks up at you. You can barely focus. James smirks and licks his lips. Standing up, he takes your chin in hand. "Do'ya wanna come on my tongue or my cock, darlin'. Please, tell me now because this time you are coming. I'll make damn sure of it."

You can barely form coherent thoughts let alone words as James tightens his grip on your chin. "Tongue or cock, Y/n," he says so seriously your stomach clenches with need. 

"I- I don't know," you whimper. 

James drops your chin and makes the decision for you. With a smirk, he lowers his head and places his lips around your clit again, sucking until you're once more a moaning mess. With one last whimper, your thighs tremble and you come apart. 

James moans into your pussy, pulls away, and uses the palm of his hand to rub your clit as he finishes you off. You're completely spent when James stands and kisses you. You can taste your own release on his tongue and feel his hard cock pressed against your thigh. 

"Jamie," you whine, eyes lidded. You want to please him too. 

James just deepens your kiss and whispers into your mouth, "What do you want?"

You reach out and run your hand over the bulge in his trousers. James hisses and grips your wrist, shaking his head with a stern look. "Honey, this is about you. 'M okay," he promises, but his eyes squeeze shut as his cock hardens even more. He mutters a curse under his breath. 

"I wanna," you mutter. It's your turn to drop to your knees. 

James's protests are futile because you have his cock in your mouth very quickly. While you don't necessarily enjoy giving head, this time it feels entirely deserved and you suck him eagerly. James's hands find your hair as he curses, "Fuck me," and his hips involuntarily buck into your mouth.  

"Shit, baby, I'm gonna come," he mumbles, biting his lip. 

You take him deeper, encouraging him with a small smile as your hands find his thighs. You feel him want to pull away, not wanting to come inside your mouth, but you hold him still. With a grunt, James comes and you look up at him as you swallow obediently.

Without another word, James pulls you up and smoothes down your skirt as he spins you around and kisses you passionately. You help him tuck himself back into his trousers as he kisses you and you smile against his lips. "Thank you," you say. 

"Don't thank me for making you come, darlin'," James argues, his cheeks still a little flushed from coming and the lingering embarrassment. You move to hold his cheeks in your hand and you kiss his nose. 

"Thank you for making sure I'm taken care of," you whisper anyway and lean your forehead on his. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," you say. 

James wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in closer, "Damn right you should be," James's eyes soften and he kisses your cheek, "I'm sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't tell me. Just know, from now on, when we play—I'll make sure you come. Hard."

You giggle at this and James just nuzzles his face in your neck, enjoying the beautiful sound of your laughter.  

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

[auragasmics]

1:32 AM: A LOVE LETTER TO THE PRETTIEST GIRL!

spellbook intro! when Nanami takes a moment to study his wife after a date night, his heart pours out a soliloquy for the ages!

potion ingredients! 4.4k+, pwp(?), wife!reader x husband!nanami kento, fluff+ smut, fingering, clitslapping(1), cunnilingus, explict talk, mating press, grinding, allusions to sex (penetration), self-indulgent to the max ♥︎

note to casters! yeah, this is so indulgent. and i'm sorry i have to say this...p**** is pink :). grab a mirror and check for yourself.

Champagne. 

A drink known to be indulged during the most influential times of human history. It’s a famed tag that runs through nations upon nations, beloved by the heaven blend of Pinot, Meunier, and Chardonnay. It pulls the tongue into an envious ménage-à-trois between the rich taste and the cheeky spry bubbles seething one’s cheeks into a world of heat —all doomed to end once a swallow washes away all the bliss. 

From its days of ruling beside monarchy to its dwindled expression in the modern world, it has yet to lose its class. It still rules amongst those with exquisite, those who can handle the feverish rush of having rapture ruin all composure.  

It’s suitable for a man like Nanami to indulge in such refinement too, just a single sip from the tall slender glass seated beside his plate transports his mind into a place where the weight of a jewel-encrusted crown sits upon his head. And in this universe, he rules over a 64 square meter condo, a beloved lord sleeping in his king-sized bed, and a lawful husband to his queen. 

Another sip reminds him of the gracious air surrounding the night—a date night catered by a meal of shared efforts and a bottle of Nanami’s favorite champagne. It’s sweet like forbidden fruit, the heavenly delight soothing his woes. 

His gentle stare falls onto you, the infamous cinnamon fawning over how red complements your skin in that dress, over your delicate pout—no, obsessing over how your lips nurse the rim of the glass as if it were a kiss. As to how the heavens gifted a man such as he with one of their own angels, it’s a blessing he’s taken without a second thought. 

However, it’s a feeling that even after three years of marriage has yet to subdue. The riveting swell that throws his heart into turmoil whenever you giggle. The wash of goosebumps set to claim his skin when your hand simply grazes against his own. The trance your gentle coos lure him into, just like now.

“Kennnn, Baby? Are you okay?”

Flurries of mindless blinks brings Nanami back into the present, where he’s met with your own stare. Where silence settles comes the bustle of apologies and giggles, Nanami “Hm?—Oh! I’m fine, Honey. I’m so sorry—missed what you said there, can you repeat it?”

“Oh, it’s fine! I was asking what should we do about the dishes? All that cooking and I always seem to forget about cleaning.”

Nanami merely shrugs his shoulder, “I’ll wash them.”

“But aren’t you tired? We could just leave them to soak—”

The rambles of solutions come to a slamming shut as Nanami reaches over to your side of the square dining table, his fingers seamlessly knitting within your own.

“That was a really good steak. The garlic butter we made last weekend was a perfect touch. Oh, and the mashed potatoes, you always outdo yourself, Honey. All I did was peel the potatoes and help sear the steak, the least I can do is clean…right?”

A helpless sigh passes through your glossed lips, “You’re not getting me to agree, y’know. I still say we just go get ready for bed.”

Nanami calls his hand, his energy, even his presence over the table back to his side in trade for the back of his chair for asylum. He gives you a steady stare that pairs all too well with a grin and a pat on his lap. “Come here.”

There’s safety in being wrapped up in Nanami’s arms as you settle in his care, his muscle-ribbed arms thick arms lacing around your waist, his large hands draping off your hip, all while he keeps one leg bouncing to a steady rhythm. 

“Why do you worry your pretty little head off about the fine details, huh? That’s my job.” 

“I know, but…”

Weakness grows in your heart as you look down into his eyes—those tired eyes casted by an ardent glow. Exhaustion still can’t taint his heart, it can’t begin to ruin the tender nature he abides to you. You can’t help but soothe him, your hand racing to cup his cheek, the pad of your thumb skating along the curves of his bottom lip. 

“But you work so hard, Kento. You should come to bed with me, just leave all this for tomorrow.”

But you know him—he can’t leave any job with loose ends. Whether it’s at the office, small repairs around the house, or simply washing dishes, Nanami finds a sense of ease in the natural order of tasks from start to finish. And when some principle challenged his own, he had every reason set and ready to roll for an explanation.

Except for tonight.

Tonight, silence serves as Nanami’s winded explanation—and the kind pecks he pushes back against your touch. 

“Ken?”

“Mhm?”

“Aren’t you going to…say something…or anything?”

Patience gets the better of you as Nanami simply keeps himself entertained with your thumb. His kisses melt into you skin, his soft hums strike every fiber, and each pinch of his lips leaves you dangling at the end of your rope. Nanami stands from the chair, cradling you in his arms. His steps are guided by routine, up the stairs and through the first door to the right, straight into the bedroom.

Nanami drops you on the bed.

You can’t really pinpoint when the plush warmth of your bed welcomed you home, but with Nanami’s thick chest pinning you to the sheets, it’s a quick conclusion you push off rather quickly.

How could you focus on such fine details when he’s lathering the junctures of your collarbone in kisses, trailing back up to your awaiting lips. 

“Sweetheart.”

“Yes, Baby?” 

Nanami gives in to you with a kiss, his lips just barely sinking into yours before he’s hulling himself back onto his feet.

“Go get ready for bed and when you wake up, I’ll be right there next to you.”

Sleep is all Namai intended for you to have, he'd be damned if something so trivial as chores would prevent you from rest. And when Nanami did finish up with the last bowl, sleep fell heavy on his mind all the same.

It weighed heavy on his mind through a hot shower, through his nightly routine, even as he mindlessly slipped into a pair of briefs and beneath the bed sheets.

But…his tired eyes had to land on you—his precious angel.

Oh, his pretty wife who glows underneath the moon’s rays, laid on your side with the blanket tucked up to your chin. He’s eager to join you, sliding himself right beside your body—where nothing but a pair of panties hugs you. 

It certainly doesn’t help how you gravitate to Nanami, even while underneath sleep’s spell. Grinding the thick globes of your ass into his lap—and right where the head of his cock sits snug against the waistband of his briefs.

In a desperate search for a distraction, Nanami cranes his neck to greet the neon red digits bleeding through the face of his bedside clock—where the best joke known to man awaits him.

1:32 AM. 

Just an hour into the new day Nanami is met by pure mockery. Of course, his sweet wife all swept up in sleep makes for an even better punch line—-the growing bulge sinking between your ass. A quiet mind is all he wants, why he’s drowning his mind in those meditative mantras you’ve taught him when work becomes too much all at once.

But it’s a fleeting dream the moment those throbs ripple through the thick veins stretching over his cock. 

“Sweetheart, c’mon…give me a chance at least,” he’s muttering for his ears alone. 

Yet the only chance Nanami knows he has is to follow in your steed and sleep away his impending thoughts. He gently lifts the blanklet up to his shoulder, only for the chilling gush to fan across your body.

“Mmm, ‘m cold, Ken.”

“I know, I know, I’m gonna fix that right away, Sweetheart.”

Sunken beneath the heavy blanket, Nanami carves out every inch of your spine with his chest, slotting himself flush against you. His arms surge to envelop you, giving way for his hand to greedily cup the silky fat of your breast.

For a moment he’s sworn he’s beaten lust curse because well, cradling his sleeping beauty like this, allowing for his body, his warmth to sew his body to your own. 

“How’s that? Feels warmer now, Sweetheart?” His voice gently coos in your ear. 

He doesn’t expect much, a sheepish nod and a mumble thrillingly satisfies Nanami. He can’t explain it, but as he steals a glance over you, he finds his wretched mind delighted by mundane beauty.

A painting is known to capture a moment in time through the perspective of the artist—but what Nanami’s eye beholds before him is too good for any picture, any painting, for every medium of art would fail to capture the radiant glow the moon kisses upon your skin. It would fail to mimic the soft curl of your lips, free from control and lifted behind the pure rapture of your mind. It certainly couldn’t transcribe the very details consumed by Nanami. 

Maybe it’s due to the curse of the night overwhelming Nanami, but he simply can’t be alone right now, not while love has him spiraling down a self-induced hole. He can’t stop himself from taking to your shoulder, granting his lips the tactful satisfaction of littering kisses upon your skin.  

“Honey…are you really asleep?” He pouts, yet he immediately reflects on himself as he swipes yet another look at the clock. “

It’s what…1:40 now, I should be asleep too, however…” 

Breaking his trail of kisses, Nanami softly sighs as he gathers all his wayward thoughts, all for this moment only he’ll hold a record of.

“I can only say this while you sleep. It’s pathetic of me, but I haven’t gotten the confidence to face you as I should. I’m not one for many words, nor do I show all the emotion I hold inside of me. But, I hope that my love for you bleeds through every touch, every stare, every kiss, and every breath. I breathe for you. I live for you. And should it come to pass, I’d kill for you. I’ve never felt more endeared to anyone before but you…You give me all the strength I need to be a better man. I just hope to-"

“...Ken, Honey? Are you on a phone call?”

“Oh um…” His blood’s running cold through every vein in his body. Suddenly, he’s stricken dumb and frozen underneath the weight of speculation. But he is who he is—a calm man with logic on his sleeve. Pushing out a huff through his nose, Nanami finds himself at ease as he peers down at your hazy eyes.

“N-No, no…just…thinking aloud. Go back to sleep, okay?”

You muse him with a passing look over your shoulder. “Thinking aloud, hm? Tell me.”

Before Nanami can conjure up some excuse as his alibi, you’ve already to bury yourself within his chest. Your soft hands buff his nerves down to naught through lazy swipes across his taut pecs. In your care, his heart’s raging scream dwindles down to a tepid thump, his lungs spoiled with fulfilling breaths, and his mind’s calmer than the vast Pacific Ocean—all thanks to you. 

“You…really want to know?” 

“Yup,” your eyes flutter open to hang upon Nanami’s heavy lids. “Tell me anything and everything.”

Giving in, Nanami’s head falls into a gentle tilt, “Do you know how beautiful are you?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“You say it like that, but I don’t know if you really do…”

“You think so highly of me.”

“I have to, you’re the woman I’ve devoted my life to.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret?” Nanami has to echo. It’s just one of the words that have escaped his vocabulary in recent years. And a regret in your presence is something he knows he’ll never, ever know again. “Never. And even if I did, I’d do it all again just to be with you.”

Gently you bite into your bottom lip “Do you remember our wedding night?”

“Of course I do. I mean it was such a—-”

“I think tonight’s going to be a repeat of that. Or better.”

As your words break through the air, you’re given the honor of watching Nanami crumble underneath the heat of your advances. Blush breaks across his cheeks, his pupils blown wide by lust’s bite, and right beneath your hand his heart’s back to roaring its spirted song.

“Real—ahem—Really? And why’s that?”

“Welllll…” The soft drag of your coo lures Nanami into hypnosis. “I just think it is, Baby. How’s that sound to you?”

“Go—Good. I can’t ever say—” 

Nanami lets your lips swallow down the last of his words in your kiss. He lets you take his last breath, his last thoughts, and all the sanity he thought he relied upon. In trade of that, he’s given the chance to relinquish all control just to drink in your soft whimpers, to sate his whims with your kiss, to scour your soft skin with his rough hands. 

Reality sets in hard and heavy for Nanami. To think, just moments ago he was too absorbed in admiring you—his wife, his lady, his precious angel tucked beside him like any other night.

His precious angel who wears sleep with a plump pout and soft snores.

His precious angel clutching at the thick pillow beneath your head.

His precious angel who has sin creeping along your curves and slipping beneath a pair of lacy red panties.

“Mmm…Ken…” your voice quietly breaks against his puffy lips. Your hips flirt with Nanami’s feathering touch, winding along to his shy caress. “Hmph…right…right there…”

“Yeah?” He allows for a lone digit to greet your dormant clit, the warmth of his touch gently thumbing circles into your bundle of nerves. “It’s riiiight here, isn’t it pretty girl?”

He plays coy, letting honey drip from his lips and into your ear. “Tell me so I can make everything better, Sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Ken please—Harder, baby, Harder!”

Dumbfounded. A dumbfounded gawk is all Nanami can muster towards you—until the ends of his mouth curl up into a grin he buries along the pulse of your throat.

“Harder?” He mocks with a hiked brow. “I don’t think you can take that, Honey. No…but…since you asked so nicely…”

SLAP!

The loud clash of Nanami's palm against your splayed cunt rings in silence over the room, serving as the perfect beat for your body to comprehend the brash course your husband's veered the night into.

“Oh–Fuck!” Tossing your head back between your shoulders, you mewl as the heavy chimes around the room. “T-that’s too much, Ken!”

Nanami hides his chuckle behind a kiss he presses to your temple. “I Promise that’s the last time tonight.” His sights slip down between your legs, watching as his fingers work to soothe your poor clit from his torture. 

He feathers down to your slit, the tight pink ring suckling to Nanami’s familiar touch. His intentions you know are pure, even amidst such lust staining the air. He’s so gentle with you, having his digits complement the perky bud of your clit with sluggish strokes, teasing your hole with the sticky circles he draws. 

All for his digits to fall victim to your pussy.

“Oh, such a greedy baby,” Nanami gasps. He’s forced to ignore the heavy stains of precum ruining his briefs, but he simply can’t let you have your way. It’s enough that he’s curling those slender fingers within your heat, strumming along the gummy walls he’s planning on staining white.  “You can’t take me just playing with you, you need so much more.”

A slight curl to your lips spites him. “I guess you know me well, Honey. Your fault for spoiling me.”

“And? You know I don’t regret a moment of it.”

He’s so sweet with you, peppering kisses along your cheeks, filling your mind with saccharine hymns. Yet he’s incessant with his reach, sending his digits to know every inch of your pussy with each strike he drills into your sweet spot.

It's just like Nanami, once he’s found a goal, he’ll work and work until the logic runs dry in his mind. He’ll work a hellish job for the trade of money, he’ll risk his life for the trade of saving others, and he’ll work his hand to the raw nerve to turn your pussy into a sputtering mess. 

“Good girl, you’re making me so proud, Baby,” Nanami coos, his eyes glued between your twitching legs. “Oh, I wish you could see what I do.”

“A-and w..wha-at’s that?” 

Your stumbling words earn an esteemed chuckle from Nanami. “Well…I could always just describe it to you…But there’s something I need to do first...”

It isn’t like him to keep you puzzled, especially with words nonetheless. But Nanami’s a man of action, letting his body move to support his cause. His cause for tonight, however, called for his body to slip away from your warmth all for him to be planked between your thighs and his hands kneading at your plushy skin. 

“That’s even better. Now, where do I even begin…”

His thumb comes to peck at your bud, lazily scrolling at the perky pearl in swipes. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, counting the minutes until I’m back at your side…back between your legs…back to having this pussy drip bliss back into my poor soul.”

It isn’t enough to have you laid out on a silver platter where his tongue can lather at your honey for hours—Nanami needs you to know just how deep his depravity lies. He slowly drags his tongue to wet his plump lips, soothing the ravenous urge that boils to the forefront of his mind with dumb babbles. 

“Just so…pretty…and pink. So sweet, so soft. Honey, I can’t go a day without you, you’re my lifeline, every beat of my heart. I just…”

His touch gets the better of his coherency. He knows better than to find focus elsewhere when speaking, but in truth, Nanami did not—he should not have caught your slicked hole fluttering at the sound of his soliloquy. 

“Oh…Fuck me…”

He wants to be kind, he wants to be sweet, and Nanami wants to embody the very traits he’s fallen in love with.

But he can’t.

Nanami can’t play the nice guy when he greedily welcomes your pussy back into his salacious mouth with a gracious sigh, his jaw hungrily working to force that poor button into a pudgy bloat.

Cunnilingus. It’s an art he’s swiftly mastered after three years of marriage, learning every inch of your body like your own. He knows where exactly his tongue should flit, where his finger curls the best, and even how long it should take for your body to shatter at his hands.

But it’s an effortless art when mastered behind love, and it steals Nanami’s breath away every time he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” his curse breaks through the air. His hands knead at the silky plush hidden underneath your thigh, leaving every curve of his fingerprint to sear into you—-to mark you as his own. He’s eager to catch your eyes, those adorable eyes that well up with the fattest tears whenever he pedals his tongue right against your clit.   

As the age-old game of cat and mouse welcomes itself onto the stage known as the bed, you unassumingly take up your role the second you jerk away from Nanami’s silent plea.

What he wants from you—time, affection, or maybe even an orgasm, every idea falls to the back burner the moment your hips mindlessly buck into his mouth. You could have sold him the story of it being an accident, but why ruin his fun where he’s so hellbent on this one night that your body’s finally taking offense?

Though, when the rare glow dots the eyes he shoots up at you, you swear you can see hearts in the distance of his blown pupils. 

“Oh, look at that,” Nanami almost humors himself as he takes another glance at your cunt.

A precarious man such as he can’t afford to miss any details. His eyes cling to the unfolding sight, how his thick digits bathe in your essence, carefully sketching his own path about your folds so rich with nerves. He’s shamelessly gawking at how the succulent hues of rose bodes well with his fair skin, each pass he bestows upon your cunt pulls him into a self-induced trance.

“Making such a mess just from me talking. What a dirty mind you’ve got, isn’t that right, Honey?” 

Right on the tip of your tongue, the words baste behind the sweetest rapport. You could let him have him, fill his ears with talk of how lechery paints his face like a mask. He is your husband, yet the side he’s letting out to roam tonight leaves your fuzzy mind combing with an answer—and fast. 

“W-Where is this co-comming f-from, Baby?” 

That’s what you say, but the moans slipping from your traitorous mouth when Nanami plants one last kiss to your folds tells him all that needs to be known.  

“What?” He chuckles to himself. The pads of his digits wade through the glassy web sewn between your delicate folds, “Can’t handle me talking about your pussy, Sweetheart? I’m sorry but you'll have to take it. And, speaking of taking it…you know what else I love about you?”

“What’s that?” Your voice trails out behind a whimper.

Just to catch your eye, Nanami allows for the single tug of his briefs to free him from hell reincarnated. With the gray waistband sitting underneath the heavy bloat of his balls, his hand hungrily grips the base of his cock. A hellish squeeze around his rippling veins has your eyes nearly crossing at the pearly tears spilling from his tip. 

With the thread of sanity left in your mind, your hands race to ball the blanket within your fists, for some kind of grounding. “Fuck! Please! Please, tell me, I can’t wait anymore, Baby!”

“Let me show you then,” Nanami hums as he cup at the back of your knees. “I love when I fold you in half…juuuust like this…”

His words speak for him, Nanami’s sheer strength working pin your poor, tired body into one of his favorite positions—a mating press.

“I can see just how hard you try to take every inch of me. Making your poor pussy stretch around my cock, you must really love me, don’t you Honey?”

It’s sinfully natural the way the fat blushing crown of Nanami’s cock sits upon your clit, a detail he’s made himself keen to. His thick bulb sobbing those white tears all because of badly he needed to have you. To have his fingers work at your gushing cunny is one thing, his cock on the other hand?

He’s on course to face ruin tonight.

He’s already planning the next position, the hour, the next day, all dedicated to keeping his fat length choked within your walls for as long as he could.

Why with such knowledge, it’s no wonder his hips fall into a languid toll, leaving the thick head to trace every curve of your cunt. He’s driving up against every nerve just to watch your face quiver, to see those tears he loves so much all from a little teasing. 

His head dips along the marked tract of your neck, a cowardly move to hide his own flush face. His hands clip to your waist, baring your body between the smothering warmth of his thick chest and bed—without an inch to spare. 

His muffled voice hums against your neck, “T-That feels good right?” 

“Fuh–it’s s’ good Ken. ‘m so close, Baby please!” 

“It’s too soon to cum, Sweetheart—you know that.” Nanami faces betrayal from his warning, his hips snapping against your own. “Just take it nice ‘nd eas–shit! Oh Honey, you feel so…so…fuck, that’s so good!”

“Kennnn! Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You hysterically sob in his ear. It’s all for good reason as those ominous white stars begin to freckle your vision. The knot hasn’t even pulled taut shattered and yet you’re already a victim to its claim. The mind-altering high that rips you out of your body for nothing short of a few seconds.

“Hold it, you can’t yet, Sweetheart, not—”

Sending your grip to sink into the twitching muscle of his biceps, you whimpered out against Nanami’s wishes. “I can’t, Kento! It’s too much!” You knew all too well what was coming and as much as Nanami claims to know as well, he simply couldn’t have you reeling off something so mundane as humping. 

“Please Honey, hold it. Just a little—”

“Fuck! ‘m cumming!” 

The perilous yelp echoes around the room as the pure state of bliss paints itself white in your mind. All that pressure, the tensions, it all slips away from you through the harsh arch your spine fights beneath Nanami.

It’s futile to try and stop the inevitable, and the bliss that comes with surrender is all the more peaceful. When your body tingles with the aftershocks, your mind hazy from the stress and woes of the day, all of the negative can’t survive when a high like that comes crashing hard and heavy. 

Exhaustion houses itself in your body, accompanying weakness and the giddy smiles that you can’t hold back–until your body feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest.

“That…whew, that was so—Kento?”

Your spotty sights focus upon falling onto Nanami’s silhouette, his towering form resting back on his haunches. His hand’s fallen between your bodies, a loose fist drumming against your skin. He’s pummeling his cock beneath harsh strokes, forcing abstract thick ropes of white to dance along your puffy lips. 

“Ken, Baby?” You call out cautiously as his body collapses over yours. “It’s okay,”  we can call it an early night–”

“I can’t leave you unsatisfied, it was pathetic of me to let go right now,” He huffs,  We’ve got our routine—gonna fill this pretty pussy so fucking full just so I can clean you up. And I have to tell you something.”

Your eyes soften over Nanami, desperately watching as the man seeks redemption. He isn’t one to be a sore loser, but when it comes to you—he’ll work until he breaks just to know that he was behind your euphoria. 

All resolutions point to you supplying his motive with undying support, especially when your digits reach to strum at the sparse blond hairs along the nape of his neck. “Go ahead, tell me Ken.”

A wicked grin stretches onto Nanami’s features, only to hide behind a kiss within the valley of your breasts.

“Oh, I love you so much, Baby. Can’t wait to give all my love to the prettiest girl!”

[bunnys-kisses]

mean, mean man

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, dom!price, mean!price, degrading, dumb!reader, sub!reader, tattooed!price, size difference/kink, fat cock!price, fingering, safe words/signs, dirty talk, pussy slapping, breast play, mating press, hot stuff inside (!!!)

bunny says: reblogs and comments are always appreciated, i love feedback!

price never considered himself a mean man, he didn't act with malice. and by god, he'd never hurt his woman. at least not in the aisles of a tesco or while you were at the art gallery together.

he'd hold doors open for you, hold your belongings while you went to the bathroom. he was your go-to when you had your period. he wasn't a mean man.

until he wasn't. price was far from abusive however, the idea of hurting his girl in such a horrible way made him sick. he worshiped his baby.

but john price was a mean dom.

he had come back from a week on base, and the first thing he needed was the sweet little thing he called a wife. you were so much smaller than him, one time you softly pressed your palm against his to compare sizes and he almost came in his pants.

he more often than not had your sticky lip gloss in his beard on around his cock, a ring of bubblegum flavouring.

he had been home for a few days and still he had not had his fill of you. in all fairness, in was an unquenchable thirst. the more he indulged in his sweet wife, the more he wanted.

you had brought him some dinner to eat in front of the television before the football game started. he noticed that you were in the cute little sundress he had bought you prior to his departure to base. he almost had to bite his fist at the sight of you.

"c'mere, love." he said in this thick accent of his, he spread his legs a little further. you could see the imprint of his heavy cock in his grey sweatpants. he gave his thigh a pat, "why don't cha sit down with your husband."

"i have to clean up." you said. it was a fruitless attempt to not have your husband bully his fingers or cock into you during dinner. but, in all fairness most of the dishes were already done. either soaking in the sink or in the dishwasher.

he gave his strong thigh another pat, "that's fine, love. i'll clean it after. you've done enough for me." then watched you with hungry eyes as you sat down in his lap. he could feel your ass up against his erect cock.

his dinner plate was on the side table next to the couch and price got a strong arm around your middle and pressed you to him as he started to eat at a weird angle.

his arms were covered in tattoos, since your marriage he had gone over what every one of them meant. from the small lock on his wrist to symbolize his time in his home town, to the 141 on the back of his neck as his team keeps his head on his shoulders, to the tiny tattoo on his ankle that had the numeral date of your wedding on it.

but the man was hairy and covered in ink, looked in such a stark contrast to you. he didn't think his girl needed tattoos, you were already perfect with your beauty marks and other lines on the skin. even the scar on your chin for an accident as a child was more beautiful than an inch of ink on his skin.

as he ate the beautiful meal you made him (meatloaf and mashed potatoes, a personal favourite), his hand dropped from your waist and got better your legs. he pushed the skirt of the sundress up and rubbed your puffy clit over your thin cotton panties.

he kept his eyes on the television as he felt you squirm against him. he chuckled to himself, but covered it with a small cough. he said idly, "easy there, beautiful. i'm eatin'."

he kept you pinned to him and you held onto his strong arm as he pulled your panties to the side and got two fingers in with ease. you feeling of them made you moan and you dug your sweet little nails into his forearm.

"what did i say?" he asked, "i told you be good." he pumped his fingers into you.

"john, please." you whimpered.

he continued to eat, even going as far as to feed you some of his dinner (as if you didn't have your own plate on the coffee table). patronizingly feeding you, as if he was the big strong provider for his tiny, fragile wife.

"eat up, girl." he said as he started to move his fingers faster, "gotta keep your strength. gotta keep that body healthy to give me babies." he chuckled, "make sure a good mum for my little brats." he could feel you getting wetter. he pressed the fork to your mouth and you slowly ate it.

your attention was split between the pleasure between your legs and trying to chew on meatloaf. your core throbbed. suddenly he pulled his fingers out and you whined like a whore.

he slapped your pussy and said in a stern tone, "i want a woman. not a dumb, cock hungry whore." price was rarely mean outside of your little 'playtime'. you knew after this he would be apologizing frantically.

"john." you whimpered.

he gave you pussy another hand slap and then grabbed your face. the smell of your pussy lingered on his fingers and your fresh wetness smeared across your cheek. he held you face close to him.

"you're a dumb little thing, love. a squirmy little worm that i gotta keep under my boot. but don't worry. i like 'em small, i like when its a struggle to get this fat cock into your little, sweet cunt." his words were like fire in your bloodstream. his lips were up against your cheek, nose pressed into your skin, "yeah, yeah. pretty fat tits, pouty lips, a cunt i can just slide into. i could probably turn a good profit on you, film me rearranging your insides and cum all over that pretty face. make you suck my cock after it fucked your sweet pussy."

you felt heat searing across your face and neck.

before you could get too lost in it, he asked, "who is the captain of the liverpool football club?"

"virgil van dijk."

"how many museums are in liverpool?"

"nine." then you tapped the back of his hand nine times. two safe guards before you played, one verbal, one physical.

price kissed you on the cheek with tenderness before his hand went away from your face and back between your legs. his voice was low once more as he said, "i love a girl who knows her rules. pretty things like you thrive off of 'em. havin' a big strong man make all the choices." he plunged both fingers back into your slick hole and kept you against him as he fingered you.

you held onto your husband's thick forearm and let him make a mess of your cunt with his thick, calloused fingers. his facial hair rubbed against your skin as he left hot kisses on the flesh.

"see, you know where your place is. so you found the biggest captain to sit your pretty little pussy on and flash those pretty tits to me. because you knew that i'd keep ya safe." his other hand grabbed your left breast and his grip made you whimper.

you held onto him and let him play with your pretty pussy. you whimpered and moaned into his neck as your breathing got heavier. you felt so wet between your legs.

"dumb little thing. i did the smart thing and put a rock on your finger and a nice little place to call home. you're a better housewife than anythin'. makin' sure your man is fed and taken care of. i have a feelin' if i didn't come in at the right time, you'd be a 141 cum dump. but i'm just too greedy for this pretty little pussy.' his panted against your skin, his own dirty talk was getting him riled up too, "they don't have the discipline to handle a thing like you." his other hand then pinched your nipples through your dress. he now noticed that you weren't wearing a bra underneath.

a hard tug on your nipple made you gasp.

he chuckled, "pathetic little thing." he took his fingers out and got a hold of you to bring to the bedroom. he wanted his cock and your sweet pussy was like the temptation of christ.

if he didn't like the dress so much on you, it would've torn it off your body at the seams. he did tap his foot as he watched you hastily take off the garment, leaving you in those cute (yet soaked) panties.

those price ripped off, but they came in a value pack at the store. nothing he couldn't replace. the garment tore away with a bit of form, but eventually they were a scrap of fabric on the floor.

that's what he liked, his naked little wife.

he was already leaking through his sweats when he got them off, followed by the british military t-shirt. he was soon naked as well, his cock stood at full attention. it was imposing and fat, with a leaky tip and heavy balls.

he man-handled you into a breeding press. you were at the edge of the bed with your ankles at your ears, glistening, shiny pretty pussy on display. he stood at the edge of the bed and made his cock known inside of you.

this was a personal favourite for him. knowing that his pink tip was nudged up against the beginning of your cervix, most likely bruising the hell out of it.

it was the closest a man could be with his wife. keeping her bent at angles to bully his fat cock into her.

"i've trained ya well, love.' he said, his accent thicker as lust swamped his brain, "remember when we met and i had to spend hours fingering you until you were able to take half of me. now i can be balls deep all i want. fittin' me like a glove. that's why i can't have ya runnin' around base. they'd catch the scent of your sweet pussy, so i had to cover it up with the scent of my cum. so they know who has staked claim." he held you by the thighs and thrusted into you.

it didn't take long for your head to become heavy with lust. you panted and moaned like a good little whore while your strong, hairy husband rammed his cock into you.

he watched those pretty tits bounce with each hard thrust, next time he was gonna slap them around until they got nice and bruised. bite your nipples until they were puffy, maybe he'd make you cum so hard you cried.

your tongue stuck out of your mouth a little as you gasped for air. your knees were in your lungs as he fucked the air out of you. you were bent in a way for his pleasure, but by god did it stir something in you.

big meanie john price. the one who pulled out the chair for you at the restaurant you both went to. the one who cooed at you when he went to get you a band-aid because you tripped in the garden and got a small scrape. now, his cock was spearing you in two while filth poured from his lips.

he thrusted into you and panted heavily cut between harsh groans, "fuckin' pretty thing. with your cute cunt and fat tits. soft in all the right places for a hard man like me. you take me so well, come such a long way. you knew if you couldn't fit my cock in you, i'd throw ya to the wolves. if i wanted that pussy stretched out, i'd give ya to my loyal dog. i think simon would do a number on ya, then you'd take me quite well." he was panting heavily, your pussy was a vice around him.

something flipped in your stomach as price went in for a searing kiss. you were both losing steam, the pleasure was climbing to heights that left you dizzy. you clutched onto his shoulders for some kind of leverage.

the slick sounds of sex were prominent in the bedroom, you came with ease. already overstimulated. you tried to kick out your legs as a response, but he had you so pinned down that you were trapped under him.

he panted harsh nothings to you, but they barely stuck in your brain. his cock continued to bully you until he shove it all the way to the root to spit out cum against your more intimate areas.

"jesus fuck." he groaned as he stopped. his mind flashed blank for a moment before he wiped the sweat off his forehead. he pulled out and grabbed you by the shoulder. he waited for any type of safe word or signal, but nothing came. so he forcefully dragged you up to where the pillows were and got you under the sheet.

"john."

"got ya."

you laid there next to him, price's cum stuck to your inner thigh as your breathing started to level out. you looked up at your husband and smiled. you felt the heat in your belly linger.

you knew your pussy was bruised, you knew tomorrow would be a bit of pain in the morning. but, by god did price know how to make you feel good.

he held you close to him, tattooed arm across your untouched back. he was satisfied in knowing that his woman was feeling good. he was also proud that his cum was being kept safe in your sweet, slick pussy.

"how ya feelin'?" he asked, but his eyes went wide as you shifted away from him. he watched you swing your leg onto the other side of him and straddle his waist. his blue eyes looked at your closely, "give me a number, love."

"seven." seven meant needy.

price smirked and grabbed you by the ass to rubbed his softening cock against your stomach and pussy. he nodded as his erection grew. his face was still hot as he said, "alright, slut. better make it worth my while. next time i'll take a few photos when i fucked ya out to send to the boys." then gave you round ass cheek and a good slap.

price was a good man, a good husband. but a mean, mean dom.

[texas-gothic]

Dracula Daily Prep: Gather Your Paprikash!

It's that time of year again. Even as we speak, Jonathan Harker has departed for Transylvania, and the unhallowed halls of Castle Dracula. And as he makes his way towards that foreboding country, he will encounter a singular, most enticing of dishes: Paprika Hendl, or as we might know it better, Chicken Paprikash!

This traditional Central European dish explodes in popularity each May as we all gather around our virtual mess hall to enjoy the spirit of this most influential of gothic novels. Perhaps you yourself are considering throwing together a pot this year? Well, if you are, let this be your guide.

So, first, let's discuss the most important of the ingredients here: authentic hungarian paprika. Now, the recipe I first used last year called only for Sweet Paprika, but I personally found that version to be a little bland. I'm remedying this by adding some Hot Paprika as well. However, this is just my personal experimentation. Hungarian Hot Paprika can in fact be very hot, so if you're not comfortable with anything too spicy, feel free to opt only for the Sweet Paprika.

(Both of these I had to order online.)

Next, is another very important addition. As youre gathering your basic cornerstones of cooking (namely yellow onion, roma tomato, and garlic for this recipe) you may find yourself passing up on something that could vastly improve your dish. I'm talking, of course, about Hungarian Wax Peppers. These peppers range in heat, from meak and mild to slightly hotter than you'd average jalapeño. As per instruction, you should only use one. But on my end, I found the single pepper to be a little underwhelming, and I had trouble picking out it's flavor. So, this year, I'll be using two of them.

I got these from Central Market, an upmarket gorcer on Westheimer. They're a cousin of HEB, and you can find one or two in every major city in Texas. If you're elsewhere, try an alternative like Whole Foods, or try to find a European or International food market in your area.

Next, let's talk chicken. You can't have Chicken Paprkiash without the chicken, after all.

You're going to want to go with dark meat cuts for this. Traditionally the dish would use a mix of legs and thighs. Personally, I suggest using only the thighs, which you'll want to get bone-in and skin-on. The thigh provides a flater surface for browning than the leg, as well as more meat.

(A note on food safety, raw chicken will usually only last 2-3 days in the fridge. So you'll want to grab that fairly close to the day you're actually cooking this. If not, you can do what I'll be doing, and sticking it in the freezer until about 24 hours before I start cooking.)

So, as you gather your meat, produce, and spice you're probably asking yourself, "what on Earth am I going to be eating this with?" And the answer to that is spaetzle! A popular dumpling present in lots of Central European cooking, this is exactly what you need to tie this all together.

Now, while you should be able to find some in the international isle of most major grocers, you might also have to visit an international food store, or perhaps something more upmarket. If none of these options work, then there are a variety of other side dishes that work just as well. Egg noodles are a very popular choice, and in my very American attempt last year, I found that mashed potatoes work especially well.

Now that you've got all these things together, you're very nearly done. All that's left is the thickener. Paprikash is thickened using a blend of flour, heavy whipping cream, and sour cream. We'll get onto preparing this mixture in my post on actually cooking the paprikash, but until then, acquiring them should be a cake walk at any place food items are sold.

Now that will conclude the actual grocery list for just the Paprikash itself, but I do have one more pointer on how to really liven up this meal. Now, if you're under 21 or if perhaps you take after our dear, depraved, beloathed Count

Then you can skip this next bit. As a wine professional myself, I find that a well paired glass can add a tremendous flare to nearly any already great dinner. In the case of something like Chicken Paprkiash, and keeping with the Central European theme, I could hardly think of a better match than a good German Pinot Noir, also known as a Spatburgunder. Pinot from Germany typically has a very light body and a refreshing acidity that plays very well with the rich and creamy sauce of Chicken Paprikash. The palate of earth and red fruit should always pair nicely with the smoke of the paprika, as well as being a general good partner for any chicken. I myself am going with this 2020 Rheingau from August Kesseler.

And with that, we are done! Hit those checkout isles and make sure to get home before dark. Terrible things have sway over the world once the sun has gone down. So if the crowd does keep you locked up until nightfall, make sure to graciously accept any crucifixes given to you by kindly, elderly grandmothers and inn keepers. But whatever you do, make sure to pop in on Friday, when I'll be sharing a step by step guide on taking these ingredients and turning them into a dinner that will make our good friend Jonathan go red as a fire truck!

Happy Dracula Week everybody!