#mmm...chest fuzz

[magicmalcolm]

[hyukascampfire]

VELVET FUZZ ､ა h.k

it’s strange that you find a teary-eyed, pink-nosed man outside your house while coming home on christmas eve. even stranger that he’s got antlers sprouting up from his head. ˒ ´-ྀི

⚞ ᪖ ˒ 𐔌 🪡 ᩙ ꒱ ･ 5.4k

𝓟airings ˒ reindeer hybrid!hueningkai x reader

𝑔 ; smut ˒ fluff

𝓦arnings ˒ soft dom!reader, hand job, kai cums on his belly, quiet sub!kai, usual hybrid stuff like scenting and all that, pretty sweet all the way through, dry humping, jealous kai a little bit?, he’s clingy, happy trail mention (mmm), i really don’t know if i’m missing anything cause i’m writing this at 5am >.< lmk!

✎୭ ashlynn's note thabk you to the lovely anon that requested this one! OH MY GOSH. this one was not meant to be super long, and i felt awkward writing fluff at first (not my strong suit, but i sorta strengthened that muscle here!) but i grew so attached to this kai by the end!! how do we feel?

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

Dazed and sad-eyed, there’s a man on your porch. 

With your keys still jingling against each other, you freeze. Your feet ache in your work heels, and your shirt collar is irritating your neck. It’s already bad enough that you’d worked a full shift Christmas eve, but coming home to this? Today is never going to end. 

Maybe you should be worried that there’s a man hanging around outside your home, but to be quite frank... You’re more concerned with the very odd, very realistic antlers that seem to just... sprout up from his brownish tangle of hair. It looks incredibly heavy, just to be set on a headband. 

“Can I help you with something?” you say, taking measured steps toward your front door. You’d already slipped once on your way out from the office today—crashlanding now, when you’ve made it most of the way, would be a shame. A thick, pristine layer of snow fluff sits pretty over the grass, thicker toward the edges of the concrete path up to your house where you’d shoveled it off. 

He perks up, turning to you with a pink button nose and round eyes. 

The look on his face tugs at your heart. Frantic and fidgety—maybe he’s gotten lost? It’s just neighborhood here, though. No matter how he might’ve gotten lost, it shouldn’t be that hard to find his way around. Not to the degree that he’d be looking at you like you’ve come to save him as he is now. 

Tall and lanky, he opens his mouth to say something a few times, but nothing comes out. Despite his frost-bitten nose and the snow dusting his hair and shoulders, he doesn’t shiver. You’ve only just came from your heater-blasted car, and your bones have already started to chatter. That’s the second strange thing you note about him. 

“Are you okay?” you say, voice going gentler. “Do you need help?” The chill on the surface of your skin begins to seep deeper. You cross your arms and tuck your fingers between the space between them and your body to conserve your own heat. 

When he opens his mouth, the words finally fall out in a surge like blizzard. He was having a hard time getting them out before, but once he gets one out, they all come tumbling out after it. “They left me behind!” he says. His voice is pretty, even as it wavers. “They left—and they can’t... make any stops! I can’t believe they forgot me,” he says. Toward the end, his voice breaks. 

Tugging your scarf up over your nose, you say, “Who? Who left you?” It muffles into the red cashmere. “Slow down. I want to help.” 

Obviously, he’s been left behind by his friends as some sort of mean-spirited prank. It doesn’t seem like they’re good friends, either, if they have him panicked like this. He really believes they’re just going to leave him here. You frown at the funny aching in your chest. For whatever reason, one you decide not to delve into, that irks you. Taking in his wobbling lip and screwed up face, it makes you angry—it makes you want to make sure he’s alright.  

You make split-second decision, looking at the state of him. He doesn’t seem dangerous. Actually, not one ounce of you believes that he could be. Maybe it could be a clever act, tugging on the heart strings of young women to take advantage of them. You’ve heard of plenty of that. But, you’re grown and have your own intuition. “Do you want to come inside? You look frozen.” 

He nods. 

“Okay,” you say, ushering him in with a hand gesture. “Let’s get inside. Warm up.” 

Following you inside, his tall and nervous figure trails. You kick off your heels and peel your work attire off piece by piece by the door, shedding until you’re just in your skirt and blouse. The skin everywhere but your legs, where you have a pair of thick tights pulled on, prickles in the heater’s embrace. Your scalp sighs in tandem with you as you let your hair down. 

Once you’re ten pounds lighter and comfier, you turn to him. He’s watching you with curious, sparkling eyes. 

“What’s your name?” you say. “And why did your friends leave you?” 

Continuing to watch you as you push past him and into your home, he sniffles and says, “They’re not my friends. They don’t like me; they think I’m useless. They did it on purpose—I know it. They left me here on purpose, and I can’t get back until next year!”  

Whatever he means by not being able to get back until next year, you’ve got not even an inkling. “What’s your name?” you repeat. 

“Kai,” he answers, eyes low. 

In his hair, there’s a twitching. You frown. “Here, do you want me to take that? It looks heavy,” you say, offering your hands out in a gesture up at his antler-headpiece-costume-thing. “I can hold on to it for you.” 

Shooting you a strange look, he says, “Take them? They’re my antlers.” 

The two of you blink at each other for a moment, both lost for wildly different reasons, it seems.  

“I mean, yes, I know they’re yours. I’ll give them back; I promise,” you say. “But while you’re here, we can put them on the counter or something. Y’know, just ‘cause it looks heavy.” 

Wiping at a teary cheek, says, “You can’t take them off.” 

Reaching up to his head, Kai tugs at one of those thick antlers. It doesn’t come off. 

Opening your mouth to speak, you don’t know what to say. Laugh? You’ve never seen anybody secure a headpiece so well to their head. He’s really serious about this costume. “Can I touch?” you ask. 

Jutting his lips out in a why not? sort of frown, he nods. 

With an investigative hand, you reach up over his head. The antlers aren’t so tall—maybe a few good inches on his head. Smooth fuzz meets the pads of your fingers. You run them up the grooves and ridges, all solid and made soft with the velvet of genuine antlers. You pause.  

Kai’s eyes linger on you. His voice is light and airy as he says, “You can tug on them, if you want. It doesn’t hurt.” 

You don’t even ask him why it might hurt if you tug. Like this, running your fingers over the unnervingly realistic length of it, a seedling of something unbelievable plants. Wrapping your hand around it to tug, you water that seed. 

It doesn’t budge. In fact, it’s so solid against his head that it can’t be anything but grown from it. 

“See?” he hums, unperturbed with your exploring hands. 

You don’t answer him. Not when, from his fluff of hair, you spot something even harder to explain away. Ears. Your mouth falls open as you take on into a gentle hand, running your thumb over it. It’s soft, warm, and real under your touch. It twitches, moving like attached to a living thing, too. Reeling, you step back. 

“You’re—how did you do that?” you say. “Make it like that?” 

Sweet face twisting into a puzzled frown, he says, “What do you mean? They’re my antlers and my ears. Every reindeer has them.” 

Taking another step back, you shake your head and narrow your eyes down on him. “No... No, I mean make them feel real.” At the edges of your fingertips, the echoes of warmth linger. You think and think, and what you come to believe... 

You begin to believe something absurd.  

“They are real,” he tells you.  

Letting that materialize inside of you for a moment, you say something stupid. “You’re a reindeer. The other reindeer left you.” 

Cheeks a rosy pink, he nods dutifully, despite that being what he was telling you this whole time. “They don’t like me. It... was my first Christmas, and I’m new, and they all...” Making himself sad all over again, his shoulders droop heavy. 

For the defeat and abandoned twist to his glossy eyes, you believe him. Maybe that makes you stupid, or maybe gullible. But you believe him, and so does your heart. It aches at the look on his face. Mending those steps you’d taken away from him for fear, you inch closer to him and take his face in your hands. His cheeks are plush against your skin. Over his nose and cheeks are a spackling of dusty freckles, and his eyes are shiny and hold bare trust for you even as you touch him. Innocent trust, though he’s lost and vulnerable, and you’d only just met. 

You can’t mistreat that trust. You won’t. He’s a stranger in your home, and this is absolutely not where you thought you’d be, coming home on Christmas eve. But your intuition speaks once more to you, and you willingly follow. Or, perhaps it’s not intuition speak to you. Maybe it’s those big, twinkling brown eyes, and the tears brimming in them. 

It’s just you living here, anyway. No roommates, hardly any friends over... You’d told yourself you’ll start putting yourself out there—to get a boyfriend to make the walls of your home a less isolating sight. But it was always later. I’ll do it tomorrow, I’ll do it next week, I’ll do it next year... You never really made good on that aspiration. Instead, you fill those gaps with soul-sucking hours at the office. 

“When will they come back?” you ask. “Would you like to stay here until they come back?” 

Wringing his fingers out, he nods. He stands there all reserved and meek, still so hurt, but his big eyes sparkle like he holds the Christmas sky in them. With emotion. 

“Okay,” you say. “Okay. You can stay here.” 

Perhaps you don’t have anything for him. No male clothes, especially none that will fit his frame, no extra bedroom or bed, and hardly enough groceries. But, what you do have, it’ll be enough. Just until they realize they’ve left him behind and come back to retrieve him. 

You could hardly leave him out there the way you found him. 

༄ 

Blinking your eyes open, you focus your bleary eyes on the broad figure in your doorway. 

For the entirety of the night, Kai trails you. His eyes roam over your home, and his nose twitches as he takes in the scent of it. Into the kitchen to grab a quick snack, into the living room to click on the T.V., you hardly were able to get into your room alone to tug off your work clothes. When you stepped out in something comfier, he was hovering around by the door and perked up as you emerged.  

He didn’t talk much as you winded down, either. When you’d first seen him outside, he was a frantic, rambling, fat-teared mess. He’s gotten quieter, just acclimating to the place. You ask him if he’s comfortable a few times and offer him snacks, but... well, the situation is strange. You’re both a little thrown off.  

Eventually, you fluffed up the couch and made it nice with thick pillows and fur blankets for him. Usually, you’d unplug the tree before beg, even on Christmas night. You left it lit up for him. 

Kai, stood in your doorway, tries to muster up what he wants to say. He shifts, antsy. 

Your limbs and brain are still heavy with sleep as you say, “What’s wrong, baby?” It’d only been a good... thirty minutes since you left him to sleep on the couch. Drained to the bone by your day’s work, you knocked out pretty much as soon as your skin hit the sheets. 

“I’m sorry...” he mumbles, silhouette meek in the doorway, where the dim light of the tree illuminates the edges of him. “I... This is the first time I’ve slept anywhere but the North Pole. I’ve never slept alone.” 

If letting him stay in your home was already insane, then letting him sleep in your bed was even more so. Scooting lazily over on the bed, you pat the empty space it frees. Who cares? You know what it is to be lonely. “Wanna sleep in here?” you say, lips slow and lethargic. 

“Can I?” he says. The steps he takes toward you are hesitant.  

You tug the blankets back over your shoulders and hum. “Mhm...” 

The bare side of your mattress dips beneath his weight. He shifts around and tries to get comfortable, shifting around until his antlers don’t scrape the headboard and he’s settled. 

Body heat beside you, or just to sleep beside somebody... you haven’t had that in a long time. Everything feels both thrown for a loop and more familiar. 

“Do you miss it?” you ask. It’s a stupid question; of course he does. 

Drooping lashes fluttering down onto his cheeks while he blinks and looks around, uncertain where to rest his gaze, he nods in answer. His shag of hair brushes over his cheeks, dangling as he lets his head rest on a pillow. “Yeah. It’s so different here.” 

Tracing his features, the curve of his cheek made soft and glowy in the clear, wintry moonlight, the rest of his face in shadow, the strain of an old ex’s shirt you’d given him to change into around his shoulders, and his eyes. They’re not so nervous, now. They digest you and your figure, just as he’d digested the rest of your home. You’re sure it is strange—getting left behind in a place so far from home. If it were, you might be the same. Worse, actually. 

It’s good you found him. People treat the things they don’t understand awfully. None would believe him—they’d slam doors in his face or worse. You’re still not entirely settled on the reality of it, anyway. 

“Maybe I can show you what this part of the world is like,” you mumble, relenting to the heaviness in your eyes. “Before they come and get you.” 

He doesn’t answer. You’re not sure if he reacted at all; all you see is the black of your eyelids and the wispy tendrils of sleep beckoning you. 

You sleep warmer on Christmas night than you have in a long time. Sometimes, you think you wake up to the weight of a hand on the curve of your pajama-clad hip, or maybe the puffs of sleep-ridden breath in your neck. In the center of your chest, your heart glows and flutters when his sleepy fingers skim over the bare skin of your waist where sleep had ridden it up. You don’t say anything—you don’t have the heart to. 

He feels nice up against your back, anyway.  

༄ 

Christmas comes and goes. Nobody comes to collect Kai. Strangely, selfishly, you’re happy for it. 

No different from the first day, he trails you everywhere. The only difference is that he doesn’t look so shaken. He’s gotten used to you and the home. When you get up in the mornings to leave for work, he complains and rambles about, what if they come while you’re gone? and that he doesn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. You think he doesn’t want to leave—you hope he doesn’t, at least. 

Coming home to someone waiting for you, who greets you with a slow smile as you kick off your shoes... You’ve gotten used to it. Things don’t feel so hollow, and your life doesn’t feel like a husk of what a life should be anymore. Rather than returning to a house that echoes your lone sounds back to you, you return to a home. The house has begun to smell like him, musky and coveting  

You really hope they don’t come back to get him. It feels awful to admit to yourself, but to pretend that it’s anything else would be dishonest. If they had any intentions to, they would’ve by now anyway. 

“Which?” you say, holding a glittering skirt and a silvery, ruffled one in front of you. “I think the silver one makes more sense for New Year’s.” 

Kai sits on your bed. For some reason, his shoulders sag. “I don’t understand,” he says, toying with the fabric of the sweats you’d bought him. “Why can’t you have fun here? With me?” 

You place the red one over yourself again, and then the silver one, and furrow your brows. Preoccupied by images of your outfit with either, you throw your words over your shoulder. “Just wanna see some friends, Kai. I won’t be out for too long. I’d bring you, but... I don’t think you’d like it.” 

The silver one it is. It’ll go nice with the baby tee. Discarding the other in a pool on the floor, you collect the pieces of your outfit into your arm to change. 

When you turn to head into the bathroom, Kai looks utterly dejected. He watches you, brows furrowed and he’s worrying his lip. 

“Kai, baby,” you say. “It’s okay. I’ll go just until midnight, and then I’ll be back here with you.” 

Staring at you for a few minutes more, his face sours. His hair, a gentle fall of loose curls, moves with a shaking of his head. “It’s not...” he starts, but some thought he has deters him. “Never mind. I’ll just take a nap.” 

Before heading into the bathroom, you run your fingers through his hair and scratch a bit just behind his ear. He leans into it, pushing his head into your hand with utmost care to not snag you with a branchy antler. “Sounds good,” you say. “I promise it won’t be that long. I pinky swear it.” 

Nose crinkling, he asks you, “Pinky swear?” 

You offer him your pinky. “Give me your pinky. I’ll show you.” 

When he does, you intertwine them to solidify your promise. “I pinky promise that I’ll be home soon, and celebrate the rest of New Years with you.” You press your thumbs together. “Now it’s a real promise. Okay?” 

He nods and smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Truthfully, it’s not that you want to go out that bad. You’d honestly rather be back here when it strikes twelve. But your friends insist that you go out. It’s been half a year since you’ve put yourself out there like this—you understand why they do. 

Clicking the door closed behind you, you begin to drop your home clothes off to exchange them for a new, glittering skin. You reemerge from the bathroom a creature of the night. Your eyes glitter as you blink, and your skirt is a true, daring New Year's length, and you wear the print of your nipples against your little shirt like an accessory, and you smooth your hands down the slip of soft belly between the waist band of your skirt and the hem of your tee. His eyes find each and every one of those things. 

“There’s snacks for you, and I’ll bring you home something to eat. You’ll be good here for a bit?” you say, wobbling on one kitten heel as you tug the other on. 

“Yeah,” he says, falling flat. “I’ll be good.” 

Fluffing your hair, you try and let his grumpiness roll off your shoulders. He gets like this when you leave. In just a few days, he’d grown so utterly attached to you that only the few hours away have him ruffled. You know he depends on you because you’re the only person and thing that he knows here, but... you don’t think they’re coming back to get him. Not this year, at least. And you can’t be home all day, so you need him to get used to functioning at home by himself. 

Letting your voice into something both reprimanding and playful, you look at him through your lashes and say, “See you later, Kai.” 

His eyes burn holes through you as you go. 

༄ 

Pink-cheeked with liquid bliss heavy in your veins, you step from the nippy air and into the embrace of home. You’re not drunk enough to stumble or slur; you’d left that back at the bar. Still, you feel the buzzing like static between your thoughts. 

Your heels and toes riot as you slip your feet from your heels. Should’ve brought a backup option... Kitten heels usually would’ve been enough to save your feet, but you were standing all night. You’re worn down to the bone.  

Tucking your hair back out of your face, you blink heavily through a scan of the living room and kitchen. Usually, Kai’s right here at the door waiting for you. Today, he does not. 

You frown. “Kai?” you say, projecting your voice. 

He’s not on the couch, nor in the kitchen, nor in the bathroom as you investigate. You begin to be worried, until you find him in the same place you’d left him. 

Except, now, he’s a tangle of blankets. You can’t see him. With your blanket wrapped up so tight over him, he’s just a mound on the bed. Strewn across the floor and over the bed and around him, there are a number of your clothes. Clothes that hadn’t been there when you’d left earlier. 

He shifts. Before you even say anything, he knows you’re here. He’s got some good hearing, you’ve found. And smell. 

“I’m home,” you announce, pulling the blankets off him. “You sleeping?” 

As you peel back the covers, he sits up. His hair is a mess, and his eyes are drowsy. Rather than scooting over to let you slip into bed with him, or smiling to see that you’ve gotten home, his nose twitches and he tugs his lips back in a smear of disgust. 

“What’s wrong?” you say. “Sorry for waking you up...” Gesturing around at the mess, you add, “What’s all this? My clothes are everywhere...” 

“Why do you smell like that?” he says. 

You flounder. It’s the snappiest you’ve ever heard him. “Oh...” you say, smoothing the tangles in your hair. “I... was dancing a bunch.” 

Eyes sharp and negative, he says, “No. You smell weird. I don’t like it. Like other people. You don’t smell... Like you.” 

“I don’t know...” You shrug a dismissive shoulder. “Maybe you’re smelling my friends. Does it bother you? I’ll go take a quick shower.” 

“You promised that you’d be here soon,” Kai says. When you reach an arm up to soothe his sleep-tangled hair, he avoids it with a dip. “You smell awful. Like... you don’t smell sweet, you smell like a man.” 

Still stung, you let your arm drop. It’s well past twelve. You’d broken your promise. Wincing, you sift through the memories of the night. You think maybe the closest you got to a man was a playful kiss with a friend to welcome the new year. You supposed you’d also hung around him the whole night... 

“I’m sorry, I lost track of time,” you say. It’s a bare apology; you offer him no excuses.  

Kai, shoulders stiff, does not loosen up. Emotion brims in his eyes like liquid frost. “Why am I not good enough? Why do you like him more than me?” 

You go to answer him, but you’re not sure how to. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing that you’d slipped up your times, but breaking his trust was. He’d been left behind by the only thing he’s ever known, and now that he’s settled here, he thinks you’ll do just the same to him. The twitching of his lips does a terrible number on your chest.  

“Kai.” You whittle your voice into something breathy and gentle. “I’m not gonna leave you. You can stay here forever, even if they don’t come back.” You know he’s begun to realize that maybe they won’t be bringing him back home, as you have. Still in your itching skirt and smeared in a thick, going-out layer of makeup, you dip your knees into your side of the bed. “Forever. Maybe I break small promises, and I’m sorry, but I won’t break that one.” 

How had he carved the shape of himself into your heart so fast? So well? 

“I don’t want to go back there,” he says, colored thick with conviction and sullied memories. “I never want to go back there.” 

Like the weight of the world on your shoulders, your body longs to crumple under it. You lay your hair on the pillow and beckon him down, too. “Then, don’t...” you mumble. “Stay here. Forever.” You repeat the word like mantra, so that maybe he’ll let it seep into his bones and patch up the wounds left there. 

He curls up over your back, pressing his mouth into your shoulder. You’d thought the first night would be the only that he joined you in your bed, but you’ve got a tender heart. He runs warm-blooded as a creature of the snow, and you run cold. He’s a good heat source. 

That’s your excuse, anyway.  

Like all the other nights of the week he’d been here, he takes your hip in a hand and slips the other under your neck like a pillow.  

This night is the same; until his breaths quicken behind you. His frame goes rigid once more, a solid wall at your back and a big hand pinning your hip to the bed. He presses his nose to the exposed length of your neck, puffs of hot and angry breaths fanning out here and there. Like he’s caught a scent. 

“Kai?” you say into the dark of your room. It’s half a laugh, half real question. 

Your lungs stutter when the drags of his nose turn to drags of his cheek, and he’s pressing himself harder into you. That’s when you feel it: the rock-solid hardness of his cock against your ass. 

“I don’t like it,” he whines, wrapping you in him. His scent. “I don’t like that smell. Can’t sleep...” 

You have a decision to make: to go brush him off and sleep as though it were nothing, or to address the barely-there grind of his hardness against you. 

Like all of your other decisions, the one you land on is the absurd one. You push your ass back into him. He gasps, a sucking in of air, against your neck, and digs his fingers harder into your hips. He brings you back into his hips as they grow more daring. 

“Missed you so bad...” he says, sliding that one hand on your hip down so that his forearm presses into your belly. He uses that as leverage to grind against you, instead. “Missed your smell... None of your clothes smelled like you... N’ your blankets started smelling like me, too. Why did you stay away for so long? You promised. Promised...” A shuddered breath prickles the hair on your neck. “Promised, and now you smell like someone else. I hate it.” 

“Baby,” you say, reaching a hand up over your shoulder to cup his cheek. “I’m sorry. Wanna make it better? Want me to help you?” 

He whines from the chest, sitting up quick to look at you. His pupils are wide, and you know just by the look of him how much it’s been bothering him. 

“Scoot back,” you say. Your belly does a wild crash. If you were to tell yourself two weeks ago where you are now... You would’ve laughed in your face. 

Eyes glazed over and his cheeks a dusty sort of pink, he does so until his back is at the headboard. He moves with a clumsy excitement. 

You tug your skirt down your legs, kicking it off your ankles so that you can crawl over to him better. In your neck, your pulse flutters wildly. He watches you approach, and then tug his sweats down. His cock pops right out, long and pretty pink at the tip and weeping glistening tears. He hadn’t even been wearing boxers. Kai’s squeak when you brush your fingers just up the underside of it and then take it in your fist is sweet. 

“Poor baby,” you say, knitting your brows together and looking up at him through your lashes. “You waited all day for me, just for me to come home smelling like somebody else... You did so good, I think you deserve to feel good.” 

His lips glisten with his wet tongue. When he fully takes in the sight of you, face-to-face with his cock, a shudder shakes him. “I wanna...” 

Pushing his shirt up to reveal the softness of his belly, you say, “Wanna what, Kai?” You press sweet open-mouthed kisses up the dainty trail of hair just under his belly button, and then you scatter a few extra like glistening presents over his hip bones and abdomen. His chest jumps and falls with each. 

“Feel good,” he says. His length does a twitch, as if just the thought of you helping him like that was just like touch.  

You press the final kisses up his length, from the base of his cock up until your lips meld against his cockhead, right over the wet tip. Savoring the salty musk of his precum, you say, “You’re such a sweet boy. M’ sorry I made you feel bad. Want me to smell like you? Would that make you feel better?” 

He opens his mouth to say yes; you see it in his eyes. Your lips wrapping around the hot pink of his tip ruins his plans. The way he twitches his lips and shifts goes right to the hotness between your own thighs. Encouraged, and truly wanting to make up for how you’d treated him today, you release his tip and smear the mess down his length with a few pumps. As soon as each slide is slick and obscene, you turn from languid pumps to purposeful flicks of your wrist. 

Kai bucks his hips up into your fist and lolls his head back, eyes screwed shut. The digging of his teeth into his plush bottom lip is what draws your eye most, though.  

“It’s okay to make sounds if you feel good, baby,” you coo, kissing over his chest and neck. “You don’t have to be quiet around me.” You adjust your grip and change the angle of your slick jerks until one has a sound catching in his throat and a hand of his flying up to curl around your wrist. “Like that?” you ask. It’s not taunting—it’s a genuine wonder. 

It takes him a few moments, adam’s apple bobbing, but he pants a little for you finally. He nods frantically. “The....There,” he grits out. 

So, you continue to fuck him on your fist. Sometimes you stop just to collect the slow, oozing white droplets that he can’t help but produce, and sometimes you reach your fingers up to brush the hair out of his eyes to better see his glassy eyes and red cheeks. The sounds really are obscene; your ears burn red just hearing them. Your cunt throbs at it, too. 

“Feels... please—” he gets out, rustling against the headboard harder and bringing his hips up to meet your fist half way. “M’ so—happy to be here. Love you��love you! Gonna cum, can I cum? Please?” 

Stomach doing wild flips at the cracking in his voice and the tightening of his soft belly, you loosen up your strokes and try to help him toward it. “Of course. Cum, baby. Go ahead. Feels good?” 

Your wrist aches once his jaw goes tight, the muscles there twitching in the moonlight, and he spills his seed in white, sticky spurts all over his belly. His fingers go tight around your wrist when you continue to jerk his cock even as he cums, working him well through it and urging him to spurt a few more stray shots on himself with wild jerks of his hips. He heaves whines and his cock throbs beneath your fist, pretty face screwed up tight. 

“There we go,” you coo, admiring the scene of him, covered in his own seed and his bangs damp. You’re sure you smell entirely of him, now, with his mess wet and nasty over your palm.  

A parade of sweet thank you’s spill from his lips once he finds his mind again, breathy and full. You just press your cheek into his chest, feeling every frantic thump of his heart against you. Perhaps it’s a bit sappy, but all you can think to say is:  

“I’m happy you’re here, too, Kai.” 

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

✎୭ ashlynn's note TJIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SUB IDOL AHHH. kinda nervous. can you tell? i’m not sure why, i love that shit. it’s just how the dice have rolled hehe.

﹙📋﹚ @hmusunoo , @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @joycelyjjj , @sunoolver , @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @apeachty , @fandomtrashsblog , @bewitchless , @yezzns2 , @hhoneyhan , @ethystclove , @darkdayelixer , @calumcxke , @biteyoubiteme , @bamgeutsz , @soobabby , @little-shiny-starr , @bambammtori , @bunniebun-posted , @heeambi , @bunnisoobin , @hwanghyunjinismybae , @bakugosbottombitch , if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[captainmalewriter]

More Than a Costume

It was supposed to be just a one-time gag. At least, that was what Jake told himself when he first bought the bodysuit. And maybe he did believe it at first. He’d buy the bodysuit, wear it, and show up at his friend’s costume party for cheap laughs. Jake was certainly the talk of the party when he showed up with an all-new identity. After all, who could’ve expected that the lanky white guy would come looking like a genuine Latino with tattoos and a goatee? The bodysuit was so realistic that people didn’t believe him when he said he was actually just Jake wearing a costume. It even earned him 1st place in the costume contest, too!

Once the costume party was over, Jake didn’t know what to do with the bodysuit. He couldn’t return it now that it was used, and after spending $100 on it, Jake didn’t feel right about just throwing it out after only wearing it once. So he decided it would just remain hanging at the back of his closet until the occasion called for it. But as time passed, Jake found himself wanting to wear it again. No matter what he did, his mind wandered back to the Latino bodysuit. It was almost like it was subliminally calling out for him, begging him to wear it again. Jake tried to resist its call, but then he gave into the temptation one night. 

Jake took out the bodysuit from the depths of his closet and held it in his hands. The rubbery suit felt cool against his fingertips. When he first bought the suit, Jake was shocked by how lifelike the synthetic skin looked and felt. Even after some time, he was still thoroughly impressed by it. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, Jake zipped down the zipper on the back of the bodysuit and stretched the opening wide. Jake stuck his leg down the leg of the costume then did the same with the other as he began to pull up the suit to his waist. The sensation of his flaccid dick slipping into the bodysuit’s much girthier cock made goosebumps run up his spine as the cold, rubbery skin touched and wrapped around his warm groin. A shivering moan escaped Jake’s lips as his junked settled into the bodysuit like a snug jockstrap cup. 

Jake was much skinnier than the bodysuit, making for a loose fit as he continued putting it on. He stuck his arms into the sleeves of the bodysuit. His thin fingers slipped into the suit’s burly hands. He brought the suit up to his shoulders, then threw the head of the costume over his face like a helmet. Jake bounced around with glee once he had the suit completely on. The suit hung loosely over his face, chest, and other spots around his body like baggy clothes. Although it was clearly much too big for his small body frame, Jake wasn’t worried. All it took was a few minutes for his body heat to “activate” the bodysuit and bring it to life. He took a deep breath as he felt the oversized bodysuit shift and adjust to his size until it was a perfect fit. What was once a cold, lifeless suit made out of synthetic skin transformed into a living, breathing person like any other once Jake put it on. So long as he kept his lips shut, nobody would ever be able to tell there was a white man controlling this synthetic Latino body. 

“Mmm… ¡mi nuevo cuerpo se siente magnífico!” Jake purred as he ran his forefinger through his scruffy facial. He massaged his neck as he spoke with his new, thick Puerto Rican accent. As someone with a relatively high-pitched voice and couldn’t grow anything beyond peach fuzz, Jake was jealous of other men who had the masculine features he always found attractive. 

He took a look at his handsome new face in the mirror and winked at himself. Jake felt right at home in his new skin and identity. As he donned the multiple piercings that came with his purchase before heading out for a night of fun as Rodrigo, Jake had no idea what putting on the bodysuit for a second time would do to his psyche. Bodysuits were addicting to wear. They made every physical sensation stronger, including and especially pleasure. That was a lesson that Jake would have to learn the hard way as he continued living as Rodrigo for days on end, refusing to take it off as he had fully convinced himself that he was always a Latino man and not some rubber bodysuit.

[kurooh]

10:17 pm.

☆ 18+ content, timeskip! kozume kenma.

( when kenma is feeling needy, he guides your hands to palm the lining of his semi hard dick. but you tease the shit out of him with a handjob until he shoves his cock and fucks your throat and cums on your face :) ) — anon

“kenmaaaa,” you gently push your hand against the plush armrest of his gaming chair, huffing. “please come to bed so we can cuddle together.”

you’ve spent the past few hours on your phone, showering, making the bed, or begging your boyfriend to stop gaming on his computer. you scoot along in your own spinning chair, rolling close to him.

patiently, he says, “soon, baby. i’m almost done.” he adjusts his chair and armrest so you can lean into him and hug him a little. you do, burying your face into his neck and into the fuzz of his hoodie. he’s fighting in the game, his fingers moving swiftly over the keys and mouse. absentmindedly you begin to kiss at his neck, lips trailing over the soft skin and eventually moving upwards towards his jaw. he exhales quietly when you kiss below his ear, shifting his body slightly in his chair.

as you kiss him, you start to gently nip and then suck at his skin, and he finally lets out something between a sigh and a whine. kenma silently takes hold of your hand and places it onto his crotch; you feel the thick outline of his hard cock through his sweats. still, he doesn’t say anything, knowing you’ll understand what he wants.

“can i, ken?” your whisper is sweet and oh so inviting; all he can muster is a quiet ‘yes’. with his permission you tug at the strings of his sweatpants, lift the hem of his hoodie up to graze your hand along his warm belly.

kenma lifts his hips the second you start to pull his pants and underwear down, his cock bobbing as you move together. you open the small bottle of lube on his desk, squeezing some onto your hand, and then you wrap around him.

“mmm, please.” he sounds desperate and your teasing hasn’t even begun.

“please what, ken?”

“please finish what you started,” his words sound like a demand, and also a request at the same time. your lips part, you lean your head down, and you take his tip into your mouth, and he finally reacts. his head tips back, headphones sliding, his lips parting as he moans aloud.

you barely go past his tip, but make sure to tighten your mouth around his tip when you come back up. his thighs part when you start jerking him off, your tongue gliding over his tip now.

“how does that feel, baby?” your free hand squeezes his thigh as you look up at him curiously.

“perfect,” kenma pants, face scrunching as your grip tightens ever so slightly as your hand reaches his tip, then slides back down.

“well, try and focus on your game. wasn’t it soooo important before?” you joke, your hand speeding up as you go back down to lick his tip. his fingers aren’t moving as fast as they were before, and he seems quite distracted now. however, you still feel sour at the fact that he didn’t go to bed with you when you’d been asking for him to do so. you lick at his tip harder, more insistently, while your hand jerks him off faster.

a low, desperate sound tears from his lips and he turns to look at you, his chest heaving. “oh, baby,” his hips push towards your lips, trying to cum in your mouth. his cock tightens, and before he can explode, your hand falls away and you start to kitten lick his tip.

flushed and stunned you denied his orgasm, his eyebrows furrow. “what do you think you’re doing?” your fingers brush over his wet cock, your tongue gentle.

“you didn’t wanna come to bed with me,” you shrug, returning to gently sucking his tip. he grabs the armrest of his chair and squeezes it. frustrated at the slow speed you’re going at, kenma cups the back of your head and slams you down hard on his cock. looking up, you catch a glimpse of his satisfied smirk.

“take it, baby,” he hisses, twisting your hair in his fingers and slamming you up and down his cock. he groans when he hears you choke, your moans muffled by his cock.

“this ‘s what happens when you fucking tease me,” kenma spits, his movements growing rougher. he staves off his orgasm, enjoying this moment almost a little too much. to make things more difficult for you, he pushes his hips up as he slams you down, leaving you little room to breathe.

but, you love it. you’re moaning on his cock like a slut, tears rolling down your cheeks as you take him down your throat. eventually he can’t hold it back anymore, and moans and pants loudly. “fuck, i’m gonna fucking c-cum…” he yanks your head back, snatching his cock and aiming at your face.

you close your eyes just as cum shoots over your face, globs dripping down your nose and forehead. his cock twitches, extra cum flowing down the length. you carefully open your eyes, and stare into his; you reach towards your face, gathering some of the warm cum on your fingers. as though you’re sucking the last bits of sweetness from a popsicle stick, you push your fingers into your mouth. they emerge wet, with no trace of cum whatsoever.

you wink at him, wiping the cum off your face and eating it, and his cock twitches every single time. “okay, baby,” kenma exhales heavily, “don’t make me push you down again.”

when you laugh, he does too, and brings you in for a kiss.

[proverbsss]

eating you right (father paul hill/john pruitt x reader) -nsfw

(pt. 2 of "reading you right" linked here)

Father Paul Hill, Midnight Mass

reader(s): I am not responsible for how you see your own headboard following the consumption of this fic <3

notifs: paul hill wants to worship you!! ; reader turns the tables for a subby paul; reader's still down HORRENDOUS ; cunnilingus, hierophilia

Your legs are unsteady as John leads you to his bedroom by your hand.

"Haha, look at Wobbles try and make their way down my hall," Paul teases.

"You edged me on your boot," you complain sharply, though this of course is tinged with pleasure and the hope that his treatment will continue. The muscles in your pelvic floor are on fire and your hips burn.

"Mmm, technically you edged you on my boot," he quibbles, pleased with himself, "Can you make it to the bed yourself?"

Rather than answer verbally, you turn back to look at him. It's a tart, cursing look that John meets with yet another grin. Even so, it's now you begin to notice the usual signs of how wrecked he is. You were so caught up in your own delicious torment that you failed to clock Paul mirroring it. You might some of your get your own back yet.

He's comfortable with your routine of the last few days, starting to strip out of his jeans when you say, "Wait." His doe eyes flick over to you, questioning.

"I don't know…" you pick your words carefully, the neediness of earlier converting itself into a sadistic little impulse to tease. "I don't know if we want your pants off yet, right?"

Paul stops a minute. Makes his positively adorable thinking face. There's a reset somewhere in his eyes as he works out why you might have said what you said.

"We don't..?" he repeats, uncertain.

"Nah," you throw out, dragging the tips of your fingers along the foot of the bed. If this duvet could talk, it would already have plenty dirty to say. "I think we probably want you to keep them on and sit first."

Paul clears his throat. His chin dips to his chest a little. Gears recalibrated toward submitting and taking orders fire fast behind those pretty eyes. "Okay, yes." He sits, trembling a bit, on the edge of the bed.

"I'm gonna sit next to you, Father, and you don't move for a little bit. Okay?"

He nods. Good enough for now. Your underwear clings wetly to you under the sleepshirt you were just hiking up for him in the living room. You pull the hem of the shirt down, a bit demurely over your thighs. Paul watches every move.

"Still don't move, baby." You purr at him. He preens silently at the pet name. "Close your eyes." When his eyes are closed, you take his face into both your hands, fingers grazing his ears, the peach fuzz of his tapered sideburns. In a decisive, hushed moment you bring Paul's face to yours and kiss him. Deeply. First-time tier kisses, slow and curious and just beginning to use your tongue.

Paul half-laughs, shyly against your mouth. "Still no moving," you remind into his lips, and he nods "good boy. Good Father." Oh, he likes that very much.

You lick his bottom lip and enthusiastically he opens his mouth to invite you closer, hands scrunching at his sides in desperation to follow your instruction and not not not touch you.

You withdraw from the kiss after another moment, riled yourself and needing to catch your breath. Still you have enough command of yourself to make this all about him, about how pathetic and needy and perfect he is. You bat your eyes at Paul and smile.

"You probably want to make it up to me. How badly you made me need you before,"

Paul tilts his head uncertainly from side to side. A smirk flickers at the corner of his mouth.

"You wanna know how to make me feel good after that, Paul? You wanna know what I need from you?"

He nods again, thoughts boyishly absent from his eyes, his demeanor relaxed and yet so, so ready to do what he's told.

"Can we make that a yes?" you prompt gently.

"Yes." The huskiness in his voice is like a refresher to your thirst for him. You tingle all over with anticipation.

"Good. I'm going to lay back, and I want you on top of me." As you lay down on the soft bedcovers, you realize all the tension your muscles held kneeling on the ground and fucking yourself onto him, even now some melts away and you sigh contentedly. Paul crawls over you, tenderness and want in his eyes and it calls up a smile to your lips.

"What are you smiling at?"

"My little pet priest. Bet he'd do anything I'd ask him."

Paul lays his head down on your belly, happiness going a little fuzzy because of the attention you show him. His curls call out to your hands and you play with his hair. He's radiant. And for now he's yours. He's kissing your neck now, giggling in the crook of your shoulder, lips tickling your chin, your cheek, your ears. You luxuriate in all this for a moment, then tell him, "Give me your ear please, I'm gonna whisper what I want."

His back muscles ripple like a cat's under his shirt as he makes the necessary adjustment to put his ear up to your mouth. But he's too close, too fucking perfect, so you have to bite his earlobe with such exquisite access.

He groans, tenses in his upper body, and rolls his hips over yours. "That's. Not whispering," he complains.

"Shh, shh." you tell him, "You wanna know? Really?" He cocks his head enough for you to see him nod, his length getting easier to feel against your thigh. You reach a hand up in his and gently bring his ear to your lips, "I need you to eat me out like your life depends on it."

He moans, low in his throat, at just the thought of that.

"You want to do that for me?" That serious attention is in his expression again as he nods at you, starting to kiss his way down your chest. "Can you tell me using your words that's something you want?"

In addition to teasing the everloving fuck out of him, getting his consent turns you on more than anything. The thought of Crockett Island's well-mannered, mildly twitchy new priest so eager to touch you, taste you, have you that he'd kept you in his quarters for the last two days reminds you in a heady rush.

"I…" he lifts his head from your chest and blinks, not reluctant, but so fucking needy, "I want to eat you out." He nods quickly, lashes dropping over his eyelids. "Like my life depends on it."

"Good boy. Do it then, please."

His beautiful, hot mouth begins an eager assault of kisses across your chest, migrating down your belly. You arch your back. Usually you two take a little more time here, but there isn't any to spare. So quickly, so deliberately, Paul finds your clothed sex. He wants to touch you, and he wants you telling him that he can.

"Can I take these off you? Please."

You have nothing smart to say. You're no less eager to feel his tongue, his kisses, the vibrations of his voice where you're most sensitive. You nod, and he holds his gaze to your eyes for a beat before pulling your useless underwear off your legs, discarding them on the floor.

You think without meaning to of the word 'devotion,' used in religious terms to describe a supplication, an adoring, faithful, upturned look. It applies equally to the naked need written on Paul's face with his hands carefully spreading your thighs apart.

"Please let m--" he swallows, begins again, "Please may I worship you?"

"Fuck, Paul, yes, please."

And he may have dedicated years to seminary study, he may have pored with his hands wrapped around old books of his faith and volunteered his body in the service of a Christian God, but that tongue of his was made for sinning.

He starts by kissing gently around your cunt, soft, spellbinding little pecks that make your body jerk to close your legs. You still open up for him, gasping and squeezing your eyes shut with how good, how good, how earth-shatteringly good he feels. His tongue starts to lap at your clit and you do feel yourself drip a bit as he deepens the kiss of his mouth on you. Your mind pleasantly lets go of so much residual tension, of today, of every day before this moment with Paul kitten-licking between your wet lips.

Your hips buck as he sucks a little more intently at your clit and your hands lift up and knot themselves up in his hair. He lives for it as you start to fuck his face.

"Yes, yes, salvation is your fucking cunt, thank you--" he sputters out, certainly only half aware of what he's saying but so, so pleased to look up at you and find your face entirely lost in what he's making you feel.

"Here, here," he takes one hand that's left a few fingernail marks in your thigh and hurriedly covers the knuckles of your hand that's controlling his head, "Put me where you want me. Use me, please."

His mouth and your cunt make an obscene symphony together as you moan and arch toward him, trying to win back enough self-control to direct him the way he needs. He's doing pretty goddamn well on his own, you think and laugh to yourself, your calves shaking and heels digging into the bed. His nose bumps an especially sensitive square inch toward the hood over your clit, and his tongue grazes the inside of you. You see stars, the way the old expression goes, you literally see stars. You have to fight to keep your eyes open to how beautifully looks, you'll need this memory of your pleasure, his pleasure, you and he together, for all time.

Your hips are bouncing off his face rather quick and desperately and Paul is drunk with chasing your cum. He sees you biting your fist and between kisses and sucks he has to ask, "You need more? What do you need? Tell me. I worship you. I deify you. I need this," And like a madman he shakes his head to deepen the stimulation of his tongue hitting, soothing, exciting your clit.

"Oh, Paul!" you cry out and reach for his bedframe. "Oh fuck," you're curling into him and keening and he's humping his mattress outright. "Finger me. Fuck please, give me something to-"

Something to cum around, of course. You feel slicker and sluttier than you've ever felt as Paul obediently probes a finger inside your cunt. You fuck his hand, unabashed, so far gone, so trembly. And even the trembling is helping you get more contact out of his tongue, and he's not tired, his thirst is unmatched, the hand not fingering you finds that little arch where his nose bumped up against you before and spreads you the littlest bit open to lap at your clit.

You make a sound that's kind of a shriek and kind of a delighted giggle, and words something like "Ha-fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum on you--" fall out of your mouth. Paul moans, the pitch of his voice increasing in a way that sort of matches yours, nearly as desperate for your orgasm as you are. Nobody could be as desperate for this as you, however. No one in the history of fucking cumming has ever felt like this.

"Please," he sucks attentively at your clit and shakes his head again, a black curl plastered across his forehead, his gorgeous brown-green eyes searching you and seeing all of you, then closing again, a holy sight. "Please cum. That's it, please I want to drink you in, please--"

And your upper body accomodates for how powerfully you need to let go, the need for release screams out of your body and you almost hit the headboard, but Paul stops you, adjusts the hand that kept you exposed to him to grip your hip and pull you down to his mouth. Your body thrusts and bucks and arches of its own volition, you're just here, in this tear-you-apart pleasure of cumming on his tongue like no one's ever made you cum before. You're panting, your heart is racing, your blood is on fire.

"Enough-enough-enough fuck please---" you shake and beg and tug a little at his hair as he licks hungrily at you, but he's going to let you go when he's fully satisfied. Your voice continues to climb in whispers and shuddering gasps.

"Like my life," he makes a disgusting, gorgeous slurping noise over your wet needy hole, "depends on it." Like a man starved. Like a man crazed. How will you ever function again. You cry out as he drags his tongue up and down your slit, one last long articulation, before his hand finally relaxes on your hip.

Your eyes flutter as you remember suddenly to breathe, and Paul's hands glide up your leg as you sink them down back onto the bed.

"What did you just do to me?" You utter, mystifed, not fully with the thought as it escapes.

"You have no idea how intoxicating you are." He says, dead serious, if breathless and soaked in you. He sucks his middle finger clean. "None at all."

x

I now have a ko-fi! Consider checking it out to support my addiction to cold brew coffee, or commission something special all your own 🖊️

[hyuukais]

BY THE FIRESIDE

A late christmas night by the fireside grows far warmer than expected.

word count: 742

genre: soobin x gn!reader, smut, 18+ content

contains: fingering (reader receiving), oral (r receiving), no explicit dynamics, i tried to keep mc as sex ambiguous as possible so could be read as afab or amab!, soobin kinda cums in his pants lol

a/n: sooo this is my first attempt at writing smut so sorry if it sucks 🥹 anyways enjoy ur christmas/hanukkah gift 😜

sexual content below the cut; minors dni

Fire pops delicately beyond the hearth, licking at the stone desperately. A dim glow flickers from its limbs across the living room. Reds and oranges dance over the carpet, drifting warmth over your skin. Your eyes tighten as the burning swells from within, a disturbance in the silence of the late night as pants and huffs grow louder.

Perched between your thighs Soobin’s eyes twinkle in the firelight. Its glow paints his skin in soft strokes, shining waxily off the mused strands of his hair. Your fingers pull deftly at them trying to bring him closer, to get his mouth back on you. Eyes caught beneath fluttering lashes, he peers over your legs. Blown out pupils taking in every twitch and expression he can pull from you. His fingers never stop their ministrations, moving with a practiced rhythm between your legs. Long and thin fingertips pressing right at the soft, gummy spot deep inside you—stirring your stomach and breaching a cry from your lips.

“Soobin!” His fingers pull back, yet your hips jump forward, chasing after the touch. “Please, please, please–god–please!” You tug at his hair again, nails skimming over his scalp. A breathless whine tumbles from his throat. His hips shift over the couch cushion achingly and his fingers stutter in their pace. “Nee-need more…please.”

Your eyes meet over your heaving chest, a silent plea in your shaking eyes. In the fuzzy haze of this heat, everything moves through a veil of molasses. The dip of his head as lips trailed over the inside of your thighs. Plush lips, swollen and spit-slick, pressed against your trembling skin over and over. Working closer and closer to where you ached for him most.

“I know, bun…” Mumbled into the skin, a sweet assurance, “Mmm—so soft.”

Teeth tug at the sensitive skin before his tongue comes to smooth the bite. Red blooms where his mouth goes, slowly marking you up for his eyes only. Until, finally, fingers still working inside you, Soobin licks a long stripe over your heat. A heady moan tears through your throat. Desperate and broken sounds spilling out as his lips wrap around you. Sucking and licking in tandem with the swift pace set by his fingers. Fire fills your stomach, a mimic of the one flickering over your home. Engulfing you in pleasure; an inferno raging through your veins.

Soobin’s hums roll over you in toe-curling vibrations. You can feel the couch cushion shifting beneath your feet as his vigor increases. His fingers thrust in and out of you faster, fucking you open with a carnal need. It pools in the pit of your stomach—a tight, twisting knot, red hot beneath your skin. Inching toward that headless high, your begs fall incomprehensible. Once again, Soobin’s fingers find that squishy spot, prodding it with a new intensity. Paired with the way his tongue circles your slit, the pressure in your gut explodes. A blinding white bursts beyond your eyelids, euphoria filtering through your limbs. For a moment, you are weightless; drifting from the couch onto a higher plane. Your whines pitch and trail off on deaf ears. Soobin rides you through the pleasure, slowing when it starts to become too much.

Your muscles fall limp in the aftermath, eyes fighting to stay open. Lingering tendrils of ecstasy saturate your brain in cotton fuzz. Not far off, the fire is still crackling; the only sound moving in the air. Fluttering your lashes up, Soobin hovers over you, a dopey smile stretching from dimple to dimple. His lips shine in the low light with traces of your cum; the red firelight emphasizes the flush taking over his cheeks. Gently, he lowers down to press his glossy lips to yours, wasting no time to push his tongue up against your mouth. He tastes of you, of peppermint and cocoa, and he feels like a warm blanket in the snow. You share groans and hums as your heartbeats settle into one.

He pulls away first, breath still brushing your chin. Brown eyes melting under the heat of the room, they find yours with an unspoken reverence. “Merry Christmas, bunny.”

You brush the soft, black strands grazing his face and take him in. Take in his swollen lips, red to match his blush-coated ears. His sturdy thighs straddling your waist, clad in a pair of sweatpants now sporting a noticeable stain. It makes you giggle faintly, a grin rising to your cheeks, “Merry Christmas, Binnie.”

© HYUUKAIS 2024

[bloodibambiidoll]

Congratulations on 1.6k WIFEY 🩷🎀💋

🐇 Eddie spaghetti, reader says “I never meant to fall in love with you… I just did.” Ball worship… you know😉😏 😌

Eeee tysm baby girl!! I love you!! IM KISSING U RN!!🖤😚 This low key got away from me and isn’t a blurb but I was possessed by his balls.😩

This is for my 1.6k celebration✨

Warnings: Ball worship, pet names, past enemies to lovers, slight hair pulling, established relationship, fluff. 18+MDNI!1.3k

You’re laying in Eddie’s lap on the couch as random horror reruns flash across the tv screen. He’s very invested in the plot of sleepaway camp, giving you random eddie esc commentary here and there. But you can hardly focus on what he’s saying with the way his large ringed fingers scratch your scalp and run down your arm, the calloused tips finding their way under your shirt to stroke the stoke the skin on your hip. Especially since your cheek rested against his mostly soft cock (he could get hard at a moments notice with you around) and all he’s wearing is those flimsy little plaid pajama pants so you can smell his musk.

All you can think about is pulling his pants down so you can lean over and shove your face directly in his balls. His balls. That feel so fucking perfect when you wrap your lips around them and swirl your tongue. His balls that are just so sensitive and the minute you give them any attention he’s a whiney whimpering mess for you. There was just something about Eddie Munson’s balls that drove you insane. Maybe it was the way they hung perfectly nestled behind his thick cock. Or that cute little peach fuzz that they were covered in. It definitely has something to do with the way they tighten up when he cums, practically emptying before your eyes. Ultimately it probably boils down to just how much you love the man they were attached to, and how badly you want to worship every inch of him.

Which is funny considering all the time you spent hating him growing up. But when you ran into him in the city six years after high school he inevitably charmed his way into your heart. If told your high school self you’d be lying in Eddie Munson’s lap, daydreaming about his balls she would’ve laughed in your face. But alas, here you are, staring down at his crotch with heart eyes.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you… I just did…” You sigh dreamily, bringing your hand up to rest at the crook of his thigh as your nuzzle your cheek against his cock.

“Aw baby, I love you so much I -“ his sentence is cut short when your hand travels from his thigh to cup his balls as you continue to rub your face against him. “Wait… are you talking to my cock right now?”

“Uh-uh, not your cock…” You hum as you start to gently roll his sack in your palm.

“Princess.” He chuckles, cupping your face in his hand to get you to look up at him. It takes everything in you to stop staring at the cloth of his pajamas like you’re suddenly going to gain x-ray vision. “Are you talking to my balls? Did you just profess your love to my nutsack?”

“Mhm.” You hum as you continue to knead his heavy balls through that god forsaken fabric. “They’re just so nice.”

“Yeah?” His gaze softens as he looks down at you. “What’s so great about them, huh?”

“I could tell you… but I think it would be more fun if I just showed you instead.” You flip your body towards him before running your hand across his bare abdomen, making sure to stop to stroke that little thatch of hair under his belly button. You lean forward and place an open mouthed kiss on the tattoo on his chest as your hand travels down into his pants. You take his shaft in your hand, pumping him a few times, you run your thumb along the tip, smearing the precum that gathered there.

“Oh fuuuck, sweetheart.” Eddie groans as he throws his head back. One of his large hands grips onto your hip your while the other finds purchase in his messy mane.

“Mmm wanna make you feel so good, Eddie baby.” You kiss along his chest and down his abdomen as your hand descends lower, cupping his balls again. You massage them in your palm, squeezing them lightly, running the tips of your fingers along the silky sensitive skin. You push yourself up slightly so you can latch your lips onto his, capturing them in a desperate kiss. He moans against your mouth and runs his tongue along your bottom lip, you separate your lips enough for him to slip in and intertwine your tongues.

You continue to make out as you rub him with your hand until you can’t take it anymore, you need to get your mouth on him. You push yourself off the couch onto your knees and grab onto the waistband of those god damn pants, pulling them down and off his ankles. Your eyes hone in on his hard cock and drink in his sack before traveling all over naked his form.

“So pretty, you’re so pretty Eddie.” You run your hands along his muscular thighs, the feeling of the course hairs there sending chills through your body. You kiss up each one of his legs, leaving little nips and flicks of your tongue along the way.

“Fuuuuck, baby doll, that feels so nice.” Eddie groans, one of his hands snaking around to gently cup the back of your head as he looks down at slack jawed and wide eyed like you hung the stars. You hold eye contact with him and you spit on your palm as you take his sack in your now lubed up hand. You fondle him for a moment before leaning down to lightly suck one of his balls into your mouth as you swirl your tongue around the velvety skin. You grab grabs onto his cock with one hand and begin to pump him while the other runs up and down his chest, lightly scratching him with your nails.

“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s so fucking good.” Eddie’s moans, the hold on your head tightening slightly as his fingers start to grab onto your hair. You run your tongue along his sack, making sure to give each side equal attention, running your tongue along each and every inch of them.

“Just love your balls so much, love all of you so much. You smell so good. Wanna make you cum.” You’re practically rambling, drunk off the pleasure you’re giving him. You suck his other ball between your lips, giving it the same treatment. Swirling your tongue, varying between gentle and slightly harder sucking motions. Your hand continues to pump his shaft, your thumb coming up to rub along his slit every once in a while.

“Oh god - oh fuck - baby, you’re gonna make me fucking cum.” Eddie’s hips buck slightly as he tugs on your hair, the sexiest moans and whimpers you’ve ever heard leaving his lips.

“Yes, please give it to me.” You practically whine as you pull off of him, looking at him with your mouth and chin covered in drool and he swears he could probably just cum right fucking now. “Wanna feel your balls twitch between my lips when you cum.”

“Holyfuckingshit. Baby, fuck, you’re so hot, oh fuuuuck -“ Eddie throws his head back when you lean down to take his whole sack in your mouth, sucking on him like a god damn succubus. Your strokes on his cock never let up as you continue to practically devour his balls. When your grip on his shaft tightens slightly just as you run your tongue right across the crease of his sack it sends him over the edge.

“Oh shit, I’m fucking cumming, I’m cumming fuck.” Eddie’s thighs tremble as his cock twitches in your hand and you feel his balls tighten against your tongue. You don’t stop until you feel him start to practically go limp under you. You pull off of him, resting your cheek on his thigh as you gaze up at him.

“Shit Teddie, that was so fucking hot, you’re so hot. I wish I did that sooner.” You giggle as you nuzzle into his fuzzy leg.

“Psh! I was hot!? You practically just started a religion in my balls’ name and you’re calling me hot? You’re something else, sweetheart.” He chuckles as he cups your jaw, running his thumb along the apple of your cheek. “You know, ball jokes aside, I never thought I’d fall in love with you… but I’m really fucking glad I did.”

[aeliuss]

Warnings!: Smut, MDNI!! Swearing, fluff, sex in the studio with Chan (you know we all think about it.)

Thinking about Chris working in the studio, getting increasingly frustrated as the time ticks on. Nothing seems to be going right, there aren’t any sounds in the library that satisfies him, and swear words are dripping from his mouth, under his breath, like venom. The veins in his arms are popping from how often he has been clenching and unclenching his fists, curly hair all fuzzed up from running his hair through it.

You're there too, lounging on the couch, glancing up from your phone every time he mutters something to himself. He's so caught up in his own agitation that he doesn't notice you walking up to him until your hands are sliding up his shoulder.

He jumps slightly, muscles tense under your touch.

He cranes his neck back to look at you, dark eyes darting to meet yours. "Hey," you murmur softly, your fingers gently massaging the tense muscles in his shoulders. "Need a break?" Your voice is calm, soothing, cutting through the chaos of his mind.

"Can't." He murmurs, his voice strained. "Got deadlines looming over me like a fucking guillotine." He tries to focus back on the screen, but your touch lingers, offering a momentary respite from the storm brewing within him.

You hum in understanding. You knew how it went with Chan. He holed himself up in the studio during comeback season, didn't sleep, and barely ate. He worked himself up so much that by the time dance rehearsals rolled around, his muscles were so tense they felt they might snap.

But you also knew how to navigate those stormy waters, offering support and comfort in the moments when he needed it most.

So you hum, fingers working on the tense muscles between his shoulder blades. "Mmm. Tell me about it."

Chris leans back into your touch, the tension in his shoulders gradually easing as your fingers work their magic. His breath steadies, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, relishing in the comfort you offer amidst the chaos of his mind."It's just... frustrating," he begins, his voice softer now, the edges of his agitation blunted by your presence. He is always soft with you. "I had this vision in my head, you know? But every sound I try, every beat I lay down, it's just... not right. It's like I can't translate what's up here," he taps his temple lightly, then taps his equipment "to here."

As he speaks, you're moving lower, planting soft kisses down the back of his neck and his voice wavers slightly.

"And I can't..." He lets out a small sigh, a shiver running up and down his spine. "Can't figure it out-- baby, what are you doing?"

" 'M loving on you," You say, somewhat cheekily, hands moving up his shoulders and down his chest in a hug. "Are you feeling loved?"

Your question brings a faint smile to Chris's lips, a brief moment of respite from the frustration clouding his mind. "Always, with you," he murmurs, turning his head to steal a gentle kiss from your lips. "But right now, I'm feeling a bit more... frazzled than loved."

He eyes you, focusing on something suddenly. His eyebrow arches, eyes squinting in the adorable way it does when he's perplexed. He tugs on one of your arms on him. " C'mere."

You let him pull you out from behind him, pushing back the computer chair he is sitting on, making space for you, spreading his legs so you can stand between them.

"You're wearing the shirt." He says, looking up to you, large hands settling on your hips.

You glance down at yourself, at the shirt you're wearing. The one you pulled on this morning on purpose, knowing you were coming to see him.

"I'm surprised you just noticed," you say coyly, reaching down to run your fingers along the hem. "I've been here for hours."

He groans, pressing his face into your stomach and inhaling deeply. "You know what that shirt does to me."

His voice is muffled against your stomach, but you can still feel the warmth of his breath through the fabric of your shirt. You run your fingers through his hair gently, a soft smile playing on your lips as you revel in the affectionate gesture.

"It's not my fault you're insatiable," you tease lightly, your touch soothing. There's a mischievous glint in your eyes. "But if it's distracting you from your work, maybe I should take it off."

You feel him chuckle against your stomach, the vibrations sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Chris lifts his head, his dark eyes meeting yours with a mix of desire and amusement. "As much as I'd love that distraction," he says, his voice low and husky, "I really need to finish this track."

But even as he says it, his hands are sliding up your sides, pulling you closer by your waist so that you're on his lap, straddling his hips.

The tension in the room seems to shift, the frustration giving way to a different kind of intensity as you settle onto his lap. Chris's hands rest firmly on your waist, fingers tracing gentle patterns over the fabric of your shirt.

You lean in closer, your lips hovering just inches from his, teasingly close yet not quite touching. "Just a quick break," you whisper, your breath mingling with his, sending a shiver down his spine. "I promise. Mmm?"

His grip tightened, running a tongue across his bottom lip, eyes darkening. "A quick break," he agrees, pulling you flush against him and finally meeting your lips with his.

His lips are already parted, and they waste no time parting yours, hot tongue slipping inside your mouth, one his hands pressing against the small of your back to steady you, the other already fiddling with the button on your shirt.

You can't help the small gasp that leaves your lips when they give way and he mouths down your throat, messy, hot, openmouthed kisses in the space between your breasts.

"So pretty," he murmurs against your skin. "So fucking beautiful, you know that?"

You shift your hips against his crotch experimentally and his breath instantly hitches. You can feel him, rock hard under his sweats, already twitching. So you cups his face, wrenching him away from your chest and up to your face.

"I know," you say breathlessly. "I just want you right now."

His pupils are blown so wide with desire you can hardly see the brown in them. He keeps looking into your eyes as his hand slips into your skirt, pushing aside your panties to run a finger across your slick folds.

He sucks in a breath. "This wet already?" He says teasingly, nudging his nose against yours. "All f'me, yeah?"

"It's been a long day," You admit tugging at his waistband. He chuckles, but lifts his hips just enough for you pull it down just enough for his cock to spring free, the head flushed an angry pink.

You can't resist the urge to wrap your fingers around him, feeling the heat of his arousal in your hand. His breath hitches at your touch, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck, muffling the little whine he can't help but let out.

You stroke him slowly, feeling him throb in your hand, smearing his precum down his length. He's so needy, so responsive to you, which isn't usually like him. He must've been more pent up than you thought.

"Please," he breathes against your skin, his voice a needy whisper. "Need you."

You feel a surge of desire coil in your belly at his plea, his vulnerability stirring something primal within you. With practiced ease, you guide him until his tip is pressed flush against your entrance. You sink down slowly, wincing slightly at the stretch. Usually, Chan preps you before taking him, but today, you are both impatient.

As you take him in, Chris lets out a low, guttural groan, his head falling back as he revels in the feeling of being enveloped by your warmth. You can feel every inch of him stretching you, filling you up completely, and it sends shivers down your spine.

With each slow descent, you take more of him inside you, your bodies joining in a perfect rhythm. Chris's hands find purchase on your hips, guiding your movements, his touch both firm and gentle as he helps you find your pace.

"So good, baby." He whimpers against the crook of your neck. "Always so good for me."

The room is filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths and the soft, wet sounds of your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire deep within your core.

Chris's grip on your hips tightens, his movements becoming more urgent, more sloppy, as he chases his own release. His breath comes in hot, desperate pants against your skin. You feel him hesitate slightly, a question unsaid.

" 'S okay," you say, gasping with each thrust. "You can come inside."

But he's shaking his head, chest heaving. "Gotta get you there first. Have...have'ta get you there baby"

His words alone have you squirming but when his hand finds your clit, you're gone. You're moaning rivals his, hips losing all sense of rhythm, thighs burning. But he's got you, hands on your hips, guiding you.

With each stroke of his thumb against your clit, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of bliss, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. Chris's touch is both tender and insistent, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

You cling to him desperately, your nails digging into his shoulders as you chase that elusive peak. His name spills from your lips like a prayer, a mantra of need and desire.

"Chris--"

"Me too," he gasps, hips stuttering, a strangled moan slipping past his lips. "I got you, baby. I got you." His movements become erratic, desperate, as he pushes you both towards the edge. With one final, powerful thrust, you both tumble over that precipice together, a wave of ecstasy washing over you, and you're clenching around him, milking him for everything he gives you.

His arms wrap around you, holding you close as he presses soft kisses against your neck and collarbone, his breath hot against your skin. You can feel his heart pounding against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own.

After a few moments of basking in the afterglow, Chris gently pulls back, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that melts your heart. "Okay?" he whispers hoarsely.

"Mmhm," You kiss the spot in between his eyes. "Got a present for you."

His eyebrows raise, lips quirking. "Another one?"

Your lips graze his earlobe as you tell him. Tell him that he'd find your present for him on his laptop. In his library of recorded sounds. The most recent file.

The wheels in his mind are already turning with ideas.

[celia-witch]

aughhhh mmmmmm Cat girl pile cuddling

“Mmm…”

Haze curled against her arm with a light rumble. Susie could tell she was asleep, but still she stirred. The ratty old t-shirt she wore scarcely covered her as she rolled into Susie’s side—holes along various seams showing the thing’s age.

Susie couldn’t help but smile as Haze murmured some little incoherent phrase in her sleep, and lazily clung to the arm next to her. Pale blonde hair fell around her face even as it rested next to her shoulder. It was a simple urge she followed, leaning over just a tad to lay a kiss on that mussed hair. She’d just have to be sure to brush it before she left in the morning. After all, Haze was prone to ignoring those things, or only giving them a quick pass. Of course Susie couldn’t let that slide!

With a quiet grunt Susie turned on her side—her free hand carding the slightly tangled strands. At least she could leave her hair in a slightly better state, though next time she’d make sure braid it before they slept. All it would take would be getting Haze to sit still long enough for her to do it. Which could be a task, but Susie knew how to make her listen.

A contended sigh left her lips as she rolled on to her back once again. Sleep still eluded her, but she couldn’t help the warm rumbling in her chest. Gentle shuffling, and a sigh drew her eyes to her other side. There Quercus stared at her in the dark, a small smile on her face.

“Trouble sleeping, Susie?” She spoke quietly. Her whisper barely reaching the pink haired feline next to her.

“No… Well, maybe a little, but… it’s nice.”

Susie found herself staring up at the ceiling as she spoke. It’d been a while since they had turned the light out, but the little glowing stars she’d pasted to the ceiling still had a faint glow to them. Green against the dark filling the small room. Curtains had long been drawn against the night sky. Quercus reached over. Susie felt her hand through the thin fabric of her nightgown—it was warm. Warm, and a bit rough, as Quercus leaned into her. She felt the woman’s nose gently bump into her ear as she pressed a kiss to the side of Susie’s head.

“Mmm… your hair smells nice…”

“It’s the same shampoo I’ve been using though.” Susie couldn’t help the giggle, her ears were ticklish after all! “And it smells nice.”

Quercus didn’t move. Still, she pressed into Susie; warmth pouring off her body. Her gentle breath tickled her ear, but Susie could feel it slowing as the hand on her stomach gently held to thin fabric covering her. It was a soft grip. Something loose, but she could still feel the hand there. The presence of others, one to her left soundly sleeping, and the one to right just barely awake. Haze still clung to her arm, perhaps a bit more honest than she was when awake. While Quercus hovered next to them both—her warmth pouring over them both.

Susie settled into the pillow as Quercus shifted just enough to breath, settling into her own pillow. Her breath was still audible, though more than just a hair away from her now. And certainly sleep felt closer, it would just take a tiny bit of patience.

“Love you Suz…” Her words were almost a sigh as she spoke them.

And Susie felt her head all full of fuzz.

“Love you too…” She replied, though the words were little but a lazy giggle. “Love you both.”

Haze seemed to nuzzle into her side, and Quercus continued to lazily hold her gown. Both of them settled into the bed around her. Slowly she felt herself sink into the mattress. The stars above slowly fading, as a hazy dream rose up to meet her. And with a soft sigh, she fell asleep.

[hiskillingjar]

Pet play with Strade please please please 🙏

it's fuckin hot as balls and i'm listening to lana del rey BITCH

600+ words, short and sweet, le's go

"Mmm…"

You rose up on your hands and knees like an animal, sleepily stretching out your aching limbs and arching your back (raising your backside), before turning onto your naked belly and lying back down on the wooden slats of Strade's porch.

It was the summer, the hottest he'd seen in years, apparently, and, instead of hiding away in the air-conditioned comfort of his house (like your housemate was), you were letting the warm, sticky heat soak into your skin and enjoying it, no less.

You wouldn't let another summer pass you by.

Even if Strade had told you to strip and 'sit' at his feet, as payment for his kindness, or so he claimed.

You didn't mind it as much as you told yourself you did.

If anything, it was making the afternoon all the nicer.

No clothes to get in the way or get sweaty. No small talk or polite conversation between the two of you to distract you.

No thoughts, no worries.

Strade's fingers were cold from the condensation of his chilled beer can (fresh from the fridge) and when he pet the back of your neck and shoulders, they dragged a wet streak down your warm skin.

You caught yourself shivering from the motion, even though you weren't remotely cold.

"How's my girl keeping in the heat, hm?" He asked softly, and when you looked over your shoulder towards him, sitting shirtless in a cheap, wooden armchair, he was looking down on you with a lazy smile and a genuiinely, affectionate glimmer in his golden eyes. Like he was looking at something he really cared for (and whether that was a human or an animal, that didn't matter). "Thirsty, mein schatz? You look it."

You turned to face him and nodded 'yes' to his question, letting out a little, dog-like whine in lieu of words and pushing your bottom lip out in a pout.

He chuckled at your needy look, before reaching forward to ruffle your hair affectinaly, pulling tangles as they pooled down your shoulders and over your (bruised) face.

"Should have said something." He teased, his smile softening into a sort of smirk (knowing that you had been forbidden to speak for the rest of the afternoon). Here," He pushed your metal dog-bowl towards you with the side of his boot and sat forward, a roll of hair-fuzzed, tan fat pooling over the waistband of his shorts. You swore your mouth was watering. "This'll cool you down."

He then emptied the can into the bowl, inelegant splashes of amber spilling over the sides of the polished metal and onto the wooden porch, splashing over your thighs, across your chest (making your skin prickle with goosebumps and your nipples harden).

He pushed it closer to you with another light kick of his boot, and your mouth watered even more.

"Go ahead," He said with a smile and a nod of his head. "It's for you, so enjoy it."

With his permission, you lowered your chest to the porch and started to eagerly lap up the thin layer of white froth, satisfied by the cool feel of it on your tongue and chin when you lowered your head more and tried to drink properly.

You were making a mess of the process, spilling beer across the porch and down your chest, but that didn't matter.

It's not like you were wearing clothes to ruin, anyway.

"Good girl," He crooned, opening up another can for himself and petting your head again, like you were a beloved dog at his side. "Get that down you. You deserve it on a hot day like this."

"You deserve it~"

[anystalker707]

Tough guy? Where?

Pairing: [ftm] Trafalgar Law x [gender-neutral] Reader Kinktober prompt: handcuffed Tags: Law gets his pussy eaten / good for him / sea-prism stone handcuffs a/n: mmm the writing isn't that good, sorry

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

          It wasn’t exactly Law’s favorite thing. He didn’t know what to do now that he didn’t have free use of his hands. Or any control, in general. His whole body was heated up, and his heartbeat was in his head—plus also between his legs—as he stared at the ceiling, seeing it spin a little under his gaze whenever the focus of his eyes moved. The sweat was accumulating on his skin, trailing down the side of his neck in drops that sometimes tickled him.

It was obvious he wouldn’t be going anywhere unless you let him, but Law still tugged a little at the cuffs, feeling them sink into his skin, but of course, there was no way out of that. The way your face suddenly showed up made his breath hitch, and he clicked his tongue, glaring at you. It didn’t make much of an effect, either way, only earning himself a grin.

“You fine?” You raised an eyebrow, hands flat on Law’s thighs, running up and down the hot skin soothingly.

Law made a faint sound as he looked at you through half-lidded eyes. He wanted to curse you, to do anything that didn’t make him seem as powerless and pathetic as he was now, but backing down wasn’t an option. It’s just… Things seemed different when they were just a theory, just a little fantasy you’d put in his mind. Now that it was real, he felt like it shouldn’t be that good, and like he should do something to take control and lead things again. The pleasure shouldn’t feel so good, so mind fuzzing… He wanted to hate that new feeling.

“Use your words, love,” you mumbled, holding his jaw to make him look at you and allow you to his lips lightly.

“Yes,” Law groaned. The cuffs made a little sound against the bed frame due to how he instinctively tried to reach your face, making him sigh in frustration when he was just restricted again. Even worse, there was a playful glint in your eyes when your gaze averted to the cuffs and then back to his eyes before you smiled.

“You’ll be fine,” you whispered, pressing a hand to his waist again, gently caressing the skin. He couldn’t believe he was that worked up just from some brief touches.

All you’d done so far was some foreplay that didn’t even include anything further from watching Law’s pussy throb for need while you kissed his thighs, his chest, also caressing his waist or hips, and it was already enough to have him that needy. Dripping. Those sea-prism stone cuffs really were doing something to him.

A sigh escaped Law’s lips as he felt your hand trailing along the inside of his thigh, rubbing circles into the skin. It made him gasp softly when you reached a sensitive area; he arched his back, pressing his eyes shut while waiting for a touch that actually never came.

“(Y/n),” Law mumbled in frustration and turned his head to the side, kind of hiding his face into his arm.

There was no response. Law sighed shakily, feeling your lips along his collarbones and down to his chest, while your hands massaged his thighs so nicely. He kept his eyes closed and breathed in deeply. Being patient wasn’t that easy, but it was easy to get lost in the gentle caressing when his mind was in such a mushy, messy state.

Law’s pride was too much to actually plead for something, as much as he wanted to. He wouldn’t lower himself to that point, so he just bit his tongue, trying to keep himself together until you did something. Whether you were really taking long or it was just his mind pulling pranks on him, Law didn’t know, but it didn’t change how it felt like torture.

The mattress shifted under him, which gave Law certain hope. His breath hitched the moment your lips met his thigh, making him groan softly at the soft kisses along the skin. Your kisses and nibbles were hot, sending sparkles through his body—Law had to hold himself back from not squirming because what if that discouraged you from taking things faster? He gasped, letting his fingers sink into his palms and leave behind crescent marks on the skin. Maybe the pain would help him control himself a little.

Law let out a particularly loud moan that was followed by whimpers at how your mouth started working down the inner side of his thigh. So close.

“Please,” the word slipped past Law’s lips without him even noticing. He winced a little once he noticed what he’d done, but there was barely time to process it before your mouth pressed to his pussy instead.

Law gasped, back arching as he tugged on the restraints again, moaning at the feeling of your mouth hot on him. Your tongue was flat against him, going from his entrance to his clit—the texture, the warmth… it all felt so good, even more after all the wait. He whimpered without even noticing it, but it was too late to give up now. He’d rather have you keep mouthing at him, continuing to give his clit soft kisses while adjusting his thighs over your shoulders.

“Mmm, not much of a tough guy right now, at you?” You chuckled, breath fanning over his pussy as you held on his hips. “More like a good boy.”

“Fuck y— Nghhh!” Law arched his back when you started mouthing at his pussy again, nipping on his swollen labia and sneaking some kisses to his clit. It was enough to make his thighs quiver, at the same time his thoughts became fuzzier. How weak were you able to make him?

You didn’t say anything, but it wasn’t like you needed to. Instead, your mouth was busy buried in Law’s pussy, licking around his entrance until finally pushing in. The taste on your tongue was familiar, making your mouth water as you licked around, feeling Law’s walls clench around your tongue. So hot. It had you growing aroused as well, though you knew how to keep your priorities straight.

The cuffs clanked around the bed frame again, and the new motion made you look up. Law’s face flushed even more at the sight of you with your face buried into his pussy—he gasped, clenching and becoming wetter as his head dropped back. You would’ve chuckled if you weren’t more worried about fucking Law with your tongue.

“Mmph, good,” Law whispered between the breathy moans.

You let go of one of his hips so that you’d be able to use your fingers too. The new addition of a finger alongside your tongue made Law’s thighs threaten to close around you, but it wasn’t much of a problem right now. You focused on pushing your finger in deep, curling it up against the spots you couldn’t reach. It was such a mess. Law was so wet, and it soaked everywhere along with your spit.

Soon enough, you added a second finger. Reaching his sweet spot was easier this way, and it gave your tongue something of a pause. It’d started aching a while ago. You pulled back to watch your fingers sinking into his pussy, practically sucked in by how tight his walls were. You hissed a little at the tightness when your fingers curled up deep inside him. His hips even moved into your hand when the other one pressed down to his lower stomach, making Law even louder as he threw his head back against the pillow. You’d never heard him whimper that badly before, so it was a pleasant surprise.

An obscene squelching sound was made whenever your fingers moved, making Law wetter as his thighs quivered. Sometimes, he would let out a broken moan at how your fingers fucked him so good, reaching in deep, right on the right spots.

Your eyes averted from your fingers to his clit, all swollen and neglected. Keeping your fingers thrusting into him, you wrapped your lips around his clit this time. It made Law whine at the unexpected addition, arching his back once you started sucking and licking on his clit. He was a mess with it, moaning incoherent words as he clenched tightly around your fingers.

Law’s breath caught in his throat for a moment—apparently, you mouthed at his clit while your fingers pressed to his sweet spot, just the right way. Each attempt to catch his breath only sent more whines spilling from his lips, and you didn’t stop, keeping your motions through all of it, making Law’s toes curl, and he was cumming. He let out broken moans, barely able to keep himself together, cumming all over your fingers and making a bigger mess.

You made sure to take it slow, gradually decreasing your motions until Law was finally recovered, careful not to drive him more into overstimulation. His legs already twitched lightly when you pulled away, so you were careful. It’d been enough of an adventure, for now.

The new touches carried a soothing tone. Kisses were spread across Law’s torso on your way up, lingering on his chest before you pecked his lips while undoing the cuffs.

“There you go,” you sighed with a smile, looking down to see Law’s worn-out expression. He was all spent, so cute like that. You brushed the messy hair away from his face to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll clean you up, and then I’ll rub some cream on your wrists, okay, my love?”

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[lokicraft]

18+, minors please do not interact

Ghost x gender neutral reader, spicy comfort below

Contains: crying during sex, self doubt, me still trying to figure out how to write Ghost’s accent

————

“Y’doing so well lovie, such a good little thing for me,” he rumbles, broad chest pressed against your bare back as you’re bent over your shared bed.

Clean sheets, fresh sent mingling with his and yours, building to your shared arousal.

“You know you’re so good for me, right?” He asks, hand pulling the hairs at the nape of your neck, slightly painful but mostly relaxing, turning your spine to goo.

“Mmm…” you reply, noncommittal. You find yourself having one of those days that you simply can’t find anything good or desirable about yourself.

Simon knows. He knows you so well.

“D’you trust me?”

“Yes.” That one was easy, answer automatic even through the fuzz in between your ears.

“Then trust me when I say you are good, you are kind, you are perfect, and you are mine.” He speaks right to your core, forcing tears from your eyes as pleasure freely corses through you. “You are mine, and I love you.”

You know this, you trust this, and if this wonderful man says he loves you, then there must be something good in you that is worthy of love.

“I-I love you Simon.” You stutter through your moans and your tears. “I lo-love you so much, I’m yours, you-you’re mine.”

Loving how you claim him, how you own him heart, body and soul, he grinds down, kissing and sucking at your neck as he brings you to the hight of your pleasure.

“Tell m’lovie, tell m’how good y’are.” He’s so close, and so are you.

“I’m good!” You cry out, “I’m good and I’m yours!”

That moment, when white hot ecstasy shoots through your veins, when your toes curl and your brain blanks out, your doubts are erased, and Simon's words become truth.

You are good.

You are his.

You are loved. 

[iwritebigbellies-blog]

Keep having to cut these scenes out of my "real" writing. Sigh. Enjoy, I guess.

***

By the time the Lance was closing down, Rhea was fatigued to the point of sentimentality and Hector was roaring drunk, which amounted to the same state of mind. Samira got them into an Uber where Hector tossed himself across the back seat, laying his head in her lap. Samira looked briefly concerned, but Rhea smiled and waved. “I’ve got him,” she said.

“Of course you do,” Samira said, yawning and waving them off.

Once they were underway, Hector’s eye cracked open, blurrily looking up at her with a smile. Rhea scritched his hair and ran her fingers down his jaw, just enjoying the shape of him. How had she never noticed how badly she had always wanted to touch him, to have access? These questions would come up for the rest of her life.

“D’you think your friends in San Fran will like me?” he asked quietly. He shuffled all the way onto his back and reached up to slowly run his fingers along the fringe of her hair. He didn’t look concerned. Just curious.

“I do,” she replied. “But my friends there—it’s not the same. We’re not close. We run in the same circles, but they don’t know a lot about me, and I don’t really know them.”

Hector frowned. “But how?”

Rhea laughed a little, dry. “I’m like a rabbit, Hector. Nervous in the open air, ready to bolt. But in my den, with my family, I open to all the fuzz and the cuddles.”

“No rabbits in San Fran?”

“I guess not,” Rhea said. Hector took her hand, kissed it, and lay it on his chest where she could feel his heart hammering.

“I’m going to be in your den now,” he said, closing his eyes again. “I’m very fuzzy.”

Rhea laughed, stretching to reach the hem of his shirt, exposing his very fuzzy—and pretty poochy—belly, which she rubbed happily. “I hated being alone, Hector. I can’t wait for this. Honestly.”

“Me too,” he murmured. His eyebrows knit as she kept running her hand over his exposed midriff. “That feels good. Keep doing that.”

It could not escape Rhea that his belly was very full and very tight. She made soft and gentle circles as he turned his head to kiss her stomach. “Little bit of a tummy ache, hmm?” she said, gentle teasing.

“Lil bit,” he confirmed, twisting slightly into her hand. “But you are making it worth it.”

Rhea knew he enjoyed it. He loved being taken care of. Lying drunk in her lap, his overtaxed belly being rubbed, that was practically his happy place. She could almost see thirty years of guard breaking down as he put himself entirely in her hands, knowing she had him and would do everything to keep him safe and make him happy. Just like he would for her.

It helped that she found him adorable when he was helpless like this. And that she found this fuzzy, round belly he was developing incredibly sexy. His thick, strong build was immeasurably improved by a big meal and/or a night out, when the effects of his happy, trusting indulgence were prominently on display. She couldn’t have kept her hands off of him even if he hadn’t explicitly requested belly rubs.

Back at the flat, Hector got distracted three times just getting up the stairs, and Rhea was breathless with laughter by the time she herded him through the door. He stumbled toward the couch, but she caught his arm and propelled him toward the bathroom instead.

“Brush your teeth,” she told him, as if he were six years old. “You’re coming to bed.”

“Mmm,” he replied, and did as he was told.

When he emerged, he was reasonably put together, and Rhea had fetched them both water. Hector took his from her and immediately emptied it down his throat, his beer trick all over again. Rhea gaped.

“Hector, I know it’s just water, but slow down,” she said, taking the empty glass and refilling it from the sink. She stepped close to give it back again, laying a hand on his rounded belly. “You’re already full as a balloon.”

“Saving up for the night,” he replied, covering her hand with his and taking a few more deep gulps. Rhea could feel his poor belly rounding out just a little more. Hector held her eyes long enough that she knew he was seeing what she felt: heat and tingles. He sidestepped to put the glass down, and peeled off his shirt, running his hand in a circle once before coming to a rest at his belt, too tight and digging into the rise below his bellybutton. He started to sigh, then looked a little confused when he couldn’t fill his diaphragm deep enough.

Rhea shivered and took hold of his belt, pulling it apart with more effort than the other three times she’d done it today. His head tilted back and he closed his eyes as she snapped the button open too, and he could finally draw a deep breath. “Look at you,” Rhea murmured. “You look a bit like a snake that’s swallowed an egg.”

“God, I used to be able to eat so much more than this,” Hector groaned. He kicked his pants off and collapsed into the bed, lying on his back and placing both hands on his belly. “Out of practice.”

Rhea stripped down to a tanktop and panties and stretched out into bed next to him, resuming stroking his belly in soft circles. “Guess you better practice some more, then,” she said, nuzzling close.

“I can’t believe you like this,” Hector said, letting her tend to him. “Because this feel so fucking good.”

Rhea kissed his shoulder and nudged him. “Roll onto your side, big guy. It will feel better.” Hector obliged, groaning plaintively as he did, and she spooned tight along his back, reaching around his middle to run the length of his swollen stomach.

“Tha’s amazing,” he murmured, letting his belly pootch into her hand, shuffling a little to lie as close to her as he could. She kissed his back and closed her eyes. She could feel his breath deepening as he dozed off. “Light of my life. Balm of my wounds. My…Goblin.”

“I love you,” she whispered. He pulled her arms tighter around him.

“Love like time,” he replied. “I will never reach the end of it.”

He was asleep a moment later.

[acapelladitty]

As part of a very fun trade with the lovely @cooldreamyfox have a little bit of Captain Boomerang x Female Reader fun 😊👀💦

As with all things, the tension finally boils over after one sarcastic comment too many but as Digger's chapped lips press against your own, a sense of victory alights in your chest that you had not been the one to give in first.

He's not a bad kisser; his enthusiasm making the scruff of his beard score along your much more softer skin as his nasty tongue forces itself into your mouth with a soft moan on his part. He tastes like beer, the residual drops of his preferred drink making your nose crinkle even as his hands loop around your hips to hold you in place.

Heat pooling in your groin, you feel almost dazed as he pulls back with a bright grin.

"Man, if you fuck half as well as this then I might have to get on one knee here and now." He announces, thick accent skipping over the syllables as his fingers continue to grope roughly at your hips.

"That mouth of yours needs washed out." Wrapping an arm around his neck, you hold steadfast against him deliberately brushing your thigh against his groin in a playful tease.

"Depends on what part of you is doing the washing." Digger grins, eyes dipping to the short skirt which hangs just above your knee as his hands drop to his waistband. "At this point, I'll take whatever's going if it means i get a ride."

Rolling your eyes at him, you press harder against his groin. "Yeah, we'll see who's fucking who."

Shoving at his chest roughly, the force catches him off guard and he falls to the couch with a comically shocked expression, his hands still fumbling with the zipper of his slacks.

Without giving him a moment to gather himself you slide atop his lap, skirt pooling around his hands as you place your fingers on his stained white shirt, deftly freeing the top few buttons to expose the russet hair which covers his chest.

"Hairy." You comment, tugging at the expanse of fuzz with pinched fingers.

"Sign of a real man, doll." He answers without missing a beat, toothy smile ready to go even as his clumsy fingers finally free his slacks enough to expose the dingy grey boxers below.

From this vantage point, it's easy to see the thick bulge which is desperate to be freed of his confines and you drop a single finger to run along the heft of it.

"Poor baby," you coo, grinding your groin against his thighs, "I really make you feel that needy."

A playful growl breaks free of his throat as his thick fingers slip under your skirt to skim along the thin fabric of your panties, even the soft touch enough to alert him to the wetness which has gathered them.

"Likewise!" He laughs throatily. "You're soaked, sweetcheeks."

"I don't have a rubber."

"I'm clean. I swear! Got the little guy checked out a few weeks ag-"

"If you're lying then I'll cut it off." You warn, hand finally dipping within his boxers to wrap around and free his hard cock. He's short but gloriously thick and the base of his cock is covered with a thicket of russet pubic hair, the slightest hints of grey flicked throughout as it matches his chest hair. You clench your fingers around the base of it, admiring the way his body jumps to attention at the rough sensation. "Deal?"

"Mmm hmm. Yeah! Whatever you say, sweetheart." His voice is deep, arousal pulling his syllables even lower as he bucks into your hand. "Cut it off. I heard ya."

Raising to your knees, you pull the fabric of your panties to the side and drag the head of his cock along your slit, coating him in your arousal for easier entry. A bolt of pleasure forces a shudder as his cock brushes roughly against your clit, a sweet sigh breathing from your lips at the contact.

"Be good for me?" You ask, teasing his cock as it presses against your hole, just waiting to be allowing entry.

"Never. I'm a bad boy and no good at following instructions. Failed most of my classes in school. Proper dipshit."

The comment catches you off guard and causes a pretty giggle to bubble up from your chest. Wet and ready, you adjust him slightly with your hand and you press against the head of his cock, allowing it to slip within you even as the slight stretch forces your breath to hitch.

God DAMN he was thick and, judging by the smug smirk which tilted his lips, he knew it.

"Gotta say, your tighter than I though ya would be."

Your hand collides playfully with his cheek, the slap sounding more aggressive than it was intended to be but it has the desired affect as his face twists into a determined scowl and his hips jerk off the couch roughly, impaling every inch of him within your cunt in one rough thrust.

A noise somewhere between a groan and a growl slips free of your lips at the sudden fullness, the deliciousness of his stretch quickly melting away the discomfort as the heat of his hands pins you into place. He's filthy and masculine, his fingers leaving the slightest hint of dirt on your pale skirt as the scent of him, woody and tinged with musk, swirls around your senses.

Clenching without thought, a similar grunt of satisfaction rolls through his frame and your hands are quick to drop to his chest, once again planting themselves within the thick crop of chest hair as you roll your hips on his cock and slowly begin to fuck yourself.

Digger allows you to set the pace. His hands remain on your hips but they only seem determined to keep you stuck on his cock rather than to guide your movements. The steady rise and fall has your breath coming in short bursts as the girth of him pulls at your walls to spark the most delightful heat which leaves you wetter with every passing moment.

"You're so tight, babe. Wet as a slut and twice as up for i-" A yelp stopped his words in their tracks as your fingers slipped further into his open shirt to pinch and tug roughly at his nipples. They were already hard and he seemed to appreciate the rough treatment as his cock jerked within you, hands pulling you down for another brutal thrust.

"Do you like a rough touch, babe?" You ask, throwing the petname back at him as you shake your head with a mocking lilt. "And you had the cheek to call me a slut."

"Do that again and I might blow my load early." He warns with a daring grin. "Then how would we have fun?"

Tugging at his curled hair, his head falls back in open invitation as you dip forward and lick a soft line across his throat. He tastes of sweat and cheap cologne, the mixture heady, and you keep a harsh grip of his hair as you squeeze around him.

"I don't know, Captain, I'm sure that big mouth of yours is good for something other than talking shit."

If anything, the look of utter arousal which washes over his face at the obvious suggestion was almost enough to make you regret that you hadn't taken the opportunity to sample his skills before fucking him. However, as he shifted forward, his blunt teeth scraping along your neck in kind as he renewed his assault on your aching cunt, you supposed that there was always time for a second round against the ropes.

[the-baby-storyteller]

this is a long one.

Part 5

Tw: brief noncon mention (imagined), slavery, minor whump,

———————————————————————

Arlo had to admit, he was not expecting this situation.

But looking down at his arms to the girl on the floor in front of him, he found himself quite bewildered as to what to do.

Ezlynn had straight up collapsed in front of him. With a look of pure exhaustion and pain on her face, she had crumpled so quickly that Arlo had to run to grab her before she hit the ground. Well, before they hit the ground.

So now here he was, sitting on the floor, Ezlynn unconscious in his arms, honestly feeling quite dazed as to what in the world was going on.

Why had she collapsed? Was she alright?

Arlo sighed. He needed to get it together. Shaking his head, he waved himself out of his blank daze. He needed to start somewhere, do something.

Standing, Arlo hefted Ezlynn into his arms.

I need to move her…The floor was no place to stay. Where was her room anyway?

He couldn’t figure that out now. He needed to quickly bring her somewhere, somewhere she could rest in peace without being disturbed.

Setting his mind, Arlo exited the living room. As he walked, however, confusion struck him.

What…what was he holding?

Ezlynn’s felt light. Too light. Much much much too light.

He was shocked. He could have been carrying a feather. Honestly, when she’d fallen into him, he’d only felt bones and nothing else. A glance at the figure in his arms confirmed his suspicions. Ezlynn’s limbs were practically sticks connected to a frame, dangling from his hold.

Come to think of it, though, now that he had the opportunity…

Arlo wanted to look at her face. It wasn’t weird or anything like that! He’d caught her in passing, yes, but with all her weird bowing and looking down, had he ever gotten to actually see her? It felt kind of unnatural to have someone in his house, who, mind you, he’d been living with for a while now, and have never seen their face. He wasn’t sure how Ezlynn would feel about it, but….

Hesitantly, he took a look.

The first thing Arlo noticed on Ezlynn’s face was fatigue. Dark bags circled her eyes and her mouth was slightly parted, huffing faintly through her unconsciousness.

Arlo winced at her pain.

But beneath all the exhaustion and pain evident on her face, she really was just a girl.

Purple hair covered youthful skin, flowing down to her torso. Her face was delicate and smooth, free from harsh lines. Eyelashes framed faintly angled eyes that fluttered as he walked. When unconscious, Ezlynn’s features were light and calm, exhibiting a peace Arlo had never really seen her show when she was conscious. It was…nice. Interesting? Arlo didn’t know. But it definitely made her feel more normal, like a real person. She could have been one of the girls in his class.

Arlo sighed and shook his head.

As he walked with her head slumped against his chest, he couldn’t help thinking: How did she get like this?

Now that he thought about it, Ezlynn had been working…a lot. When did she take breaks? How could it get so bad that it got to this point where she literally collapsed? And in the middle of the day?

This couldn’t happen anymore.

—

The first sign that something was wrong was that Ezlynn woke up on something soft. She didn’t register the danger initially, instead snuggling softly into the fuzz beneath her.

“Mmm…” She groaned groggily as she awoke. Warmth surrounded her. Finally, she smiled, sinking deeper into whatever was around her. She was finally in peaceful solitude, no orders being barked at her, no work, just rest and heavenly, heavenly warmth. Warmth and quiet and…

Wait. Warmth?

Ezlynn poked an eye open. She looked at her surroundings. The walls around her were white and adorned with decorations. Chairs, tables, and furniture were placed in miscellaneous spots around the room. There was no freezing air blowing or metallic, dungeon-like walls surrounding her. She wasn’t in her room.

She wasn’t in her room.

Her eyes widened, heart rate starting to pick up. This couldn’t be…

Quickly, she opened her other eye and looked down.

A bed. A soft cream colored bed that she’d been making every day.

She almost laughed in her terror. H-Hah…what…?

I-I’m…I’m on Master’s bed?!

Ezlynn choked, scrambling to sit up.

No, no no, this couldn’t be happening. How did this happen? How could this happen?

She put a hand on her chest, heaving but trying to calm her frantically beating heart.

Answers. First, she needed answers, needed to catalogue the situation and figure out what kind of absolute mess had occurred while she was knocked out for her to wake up on Master’s bed.

Okay, think Ezlynn. What happened? How did you get here?

There was no way she would ever, ever come to the Young Master’s room on her own accord. Then had the Young Master put her there? Had he taken liberties with her? Had she been punished?

But no, she was…fine. She couldn’t feel any pain. She was still reeling, in fact, by how warm the blankets under her continued to be, and there was no aching or soreness anywhere. Nothing hurt. Nothing at all. She had simply been resting the whole time. Recovering, even.

Ezlynn screwed her eyes together, letting out a stressed exhale.

How long had she even been lying there?

“Oh, Ezlynn, you’re awake.”

Ezlynn’s eyes shot open and she whipped her head up.

The door opened to reveal the Young Master walking in through the doorway. Instantly, all her efforts to calm herself were thrown out the window. She flew into a kneeling position on the bed, nearly digging her chin and shoulders into her chest with hands placed on her thighs in obedience.

“M-Master,” she hastily croaked, “I am so, so sorry, I don’t know how I ended up here, please, I’m terribly sorry. I deserve punishment, I know, but I truly do not know how I got here, please-”

“Woah, woah, calm down” the Young Master replied, raising his arms placatingly, “Take it easy. I put you here.”

Ezlynn went rigid.

“Wha-what?”

“Yea, I did.” He fully entered the room, placing a tray on the table nonchalantly. Ezlynn was stunned into silence.

“I thought you would still be asleep by now. You really were knocked out for a long time.”

Exlynn winced. How dare she sleep for so long, and on the Young Master’s bed?

“You’d collapsed from exhaustion.” He continued, “I carried you here. You scared me there for a second, Ezlynn, becoming unconscious so suddenly.”

Master had carried… her there? She burned with humiliation. To make her master have to carry her to his bed to rest? What kind of madness was that? Was she crazy? It didn’t matter if she was unconscious, it was still her fault. Lips trembling, started to bow further to beg forgiveness when-

“You really looked like you needed the rest,” The Young Master said, “I didn’t know you were working so hard. You really have to stop before you start doing too much, okay?”

Ezlynn tried her best to get words out. She leaned forward, “M-Master, I-”

“Do you need any more rest?” He asked.

“N-No!” She almost shouted, “I am well now, Master, I don’t need any more rest.” Her head pounded lightly in protest from her exertion, but she ignored it, hiding a wince from him. The warmth underneath her still felt so good but she couldn’t stay with it forever. She needed to leave and go back to her duties this instant. She’d already gotten herself into so much trouble and mess when she never should have in the first place.

The Young Master frowned but turned and walked back over to the door.

“Alright, but please take it easy. You can have this day off. I’ll tell my cousin. Take more breaks, please, throughout the day.”

With that, the Young Master quietly excited, leaving Ezlynn alone.

She sat in a stupor, unable to even formulate any functioning thoughts. She was so confused.

Master brought me…to his room? To rest? On his bed? He didn’t do anything to me or touch me. He’s told me to…take breaks?

Nothing, nothing was making sense, and despite the urge she had to quiver with fear, her found herself more overwhelmed by confusion than anything else.

Ezlynn decided to just do what she knew, one step at a time. She knew for a fact that she had to get off the Young Master’s bed, so she hurriedly did so, trying not to mourn for the lost warmth. It was never hers to begin with. She checked the time; 6 pm. Shoot. She should have already gotten started on dinner.

Quickly padding to the door, she turned the handle-

Wait. Master had told her to take a rest. She paused.

What would she do now, then? Who was going to deal with the rest of the chores? Her mind spun as she tried to make sense of everything. But she couldn’t just disobey the Young Master’s order. Was it just back to the basement then? Ezlynn wavered.

Ugh! None of this would have happened if she had composed herself and never fainted in the first place.

Shaking her head vigorously, she tried to wipe the whole situation from her mind. She’d made a mistake, one she was not going to make again if for no reason other than that the outcome confused her so terribly that it started to scare her. She would obey her master’s orders and sit in the basement for the rest of the day, determined not to cause any more trouble than she already had.

With one last glance around the room, Ezlynn turned and shut the door.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

In the Quiet of the Night.

Steve Harrington x Female Reader Drabble (18+) 

Word Count:677

Authour’s Note:Look I’ll level with you, I don’t really know what posessed me to write this, and yet here we are. 

Masterlist

It wasn’t unusual for Steve to be snuggled close to you when you were sleeping together. He always cuddled close to you, slotting his body right behind yours, his arm holding you to him, needing to feel your warmth against his skin to keep him grounded. It didn’t take very long before the two of you fell asleep holding each other close.

However on this particular night, Steve’s arm around you was gripping you closer to him just that little bit tighter. Almost protectively. Not so tight as to be crushing, but just enough to make you feel safe in his arms.

Your sleep had been interrupted by the sounds of Steve’s strained whimpers, and the roll of his hips against the curve of your ass.

“Oh fuck…yes honey..” his sleepy voice cries out.

You feel him rock his hard length against you, his hand having drifted down from being draped over your stomach, and instead resting over the curve of your hips, his fingertips sinking into the soft flesh.

Judging by his sleepy mumbles, your Stevie had no idea what he was doing right now. The sticky wet patch in his boxers became ever more prominent as he continued to rut his hips into yours.

You slyly smiled to yourself as you pushed your ass back into him, and wiggled your hips, providing him with some much needed friction.

“Mmm feel so good..wanna cum…” he slurred out, his hips stuttering with every movement.

You could tell as his hands on your hips were gripping you a little more tighter than before, that he was close, his lips are pressed at the back of your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses over the exposed skin. 

“F-fuck..oh god…fuck..m’cumming..” he slurs out against your skin, his stuttering hips stilling, a desperate groan leaving his lips as he spilled himself inside the fabric of his boxers.

Steve’s eyes fluttered open, the euphoria of his high causing him to wake up. Once he’d realised what had happened, he flushed scarlet all over, mortification settling over his features. His spent cock laying pressed between both of your bodies.

“Oh god oh no no no..honey I’m so sorry..I-I don’t..I-I’m sorry…” he babbles endlessly as the embarrassment of his actions clouds his mind.

Turning yourself around in his arms, you look deeply in his honey brown eyes.

"It's  okay Stevie, you've got absolutely nothing to apologise for" you assured him, whilst peppering his face with delicate kisses.

The blush dusted across his freckled features still remained as he struggled to look at you. His hair flopped over his eyes, hiding him from your gaze.

“Actually…I thought it was kind of hot..” you confessed to him with a cheeky grin.

He looked up at you from underneath his fringe.

“Y-you did?” his eyebrows knitted together.

Raking your fingers through his hair, you push it out the way to properly look at his face. Seeing him look so vulnerable like this made you want to wrap him up and hold him in your arms forever.

You press your lips to his plump pink ones, kissing him with reassurance.

“Mmhmm…love you so much, Stevie...let me take care of you…” 

He feels his dick begin to twitch at your words, pulsing with need, suddenly becoming very interested in this new turn of events.

You begin to settle yourself over his body as your lips delicately kiss their way down his body, over the soft fuzz of his chest and tummy before finally finding your place between his thick thighs.

His head hits the pillow underneath him with a soft thunk as he feels the press of your tongue over the weeping head of his cock, licking up the cum from before, as you begin to run your tongue over the pulsing vein that runs the length of him.

“Fuck…Honey…you’re going to be the death of me I swear..” he breathlessly chuckles with a slight moan.

“Always so dramatic.” you smile back at him, taking him into your mouth once more.