#primal essence | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 2 months ago

Text

Sweetener - C.K.

Synopsis. You, hit by your heat cycle and accidentally calling your best friend over in a daze. Choso Kamo, your utterly sweet best friend - and totally not an aIpha, right? Right?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! Choso, heats, best-friends-to-lovers, pining, creampíes, bréeding, Choso goes FÉRAL, OMÉGAVERSE AU, overstím, knots, MARATHONS, making him cúm blanks, MATÍNG BÍTES, cúmplay, first times (Choso), pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem), proposals, p talking, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

“Open up f’me, beautiful.”

Choso Kamo was approximately four seconds away from kicking down your front door and tearing your apartment down in search of you. Or, at least, he would be if he didn’t know how much you’d huff at him afterwards.

Because it’s not everyday that his precious best friend wakes him up at 3AM with a hazy, six-second call. Mumbling nothing but an adorably sleepy “Cho— come over?”

So what if Choso had instantly thrown on the first t-shirt he saw and broken about seven traffic violations on his motorbike here?

“Come on, come on-” he’s hissing underneath his breath. Weight shuffling nervously between his two feet, he raps on your door once more. Twice. Thrice. “D-don’t make me use that spare key again.”

It was a half-threat - really, it was.

But the louder your answering silence grew, the tighter his fingers curled around his own metallic key. Breathing out a low, “I’m- I’m coming in.” And slowly - ever-so-slowly - he’s cracking your door just an inch open before-

Oh.

It hits Choso like a wave - hard enough to knock him down onto his knees.

“What-” he’s gasping, heaving. Words tumbling out drunkenly in rasping ahs! that he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even register the bright, blossoming pain sweeping his knees with the way his lungs felt like they were scorching - and Choso just couldn’t get enough.

It wasn’t a new candle of yours, and Choso already memorized every one of your perfumes for this to be one. This was just so…carnally sweet.

He was drinking in every drop, every ounce, every waft of that candied air inside your cozy apartment like he couldn’t breathe if it wasn’t that.

And something in the sugary scent makes Choso twitch.

Oh, shit.

Hastily swiping away a translucent mess of drool that’d somehow made its home by the rosy corner of his mouth, he’s straining out once more. For his sanity, more than anything. “Beautiful? Anyone home?”

Still no answer.

Absolutely nothing.

It takes him a few more sloppy seconds swimming his melty mind to even consider stumbling back up onto his two unsteady feet. Blinking away the bleary film over his gaze, Choso slams! your door shut with the back of his foot - cutting off the heady perfume from emanating into the corridor.

Noise complaints from your neighbors be damned - he’ll apologize to them all personally later.

But right now, something about the way that mysterious essence was all his, his, his scratched at such a dangerously primal itch in his brain.

Shit- what was he even thinking?

Choso was here for you and only you.

He’s running a jittery few digits through the sweat-dampened valleys of his hair, tugging in a stinging little pull to try and snap some sense back into him. Clearing the strangled mess in his throat, Choso smacks! his palms against his burning cheeks before calling out once more, “I’ll be coming in–”

Because it’s not as if Choso’s never been in here before - he has. Many, many times, in fact. And during every one of those hangouts you’d made it a point to pout about how he should really “let loose” and treat this home as if it was his own, too.

Honestly, it was hard to feel anything but comfortable after knowing each other for so long - even despite those embarrassing, mushy feelings that he always drowned in around you.

But that was a conversation for another time.

And right now, Choso couldn’t even dream of any “comfort” when every step deeper into the saturated cloud of scent made Choso gulp. Every blink had his eyes watering even more - and his pants- fuck- Choso’s biting down on his rawly worried lower lip, eyes flickering anywhere but where he could feel his achy cock stirring.

Something about this smell was so…hypnotic.

And if he didn’t know any better then he’d have sworn he was practically floating down that familiar pathway to your bedroom. Feet padding down anxiously along the mahogany-covered floors, it was becoming so much harder and harder to breathe in the fragrant air without getting fucking addicted.

Or, Choso swallows, one arm balanced on the wall, the other feeling for his thundering pulse. He probably already was.

But what if you were sick? What if you needed help? Fuck, if he didn’t live every waking moment dancing along to your heartbeat.

That is, when he hears it. That.

Filtering from inside your bedroom…a moan. ”Ch-Choso–”

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

You didn’t know what you were thinking, forgetting to take your monthly dosage of suppressants - you’d blame it on all the time you’d been spending studying for finals with Choso lately, but you’d never put the fault on your sweet best friend like that.

After all, he was a fellow omega like you at the end of the day. Right?

“Fuck” You’re scrambling to clasp onto a sodden sweatshirt of his on your bed, nose burying into the slightly sunny vanilla scent. You knew it was wrong to think about him this way, you knew it was made even worse considering his second gender. But- but fuck, if he didn’t have your hands slipping and sliding guiltily down towards the slick-lathered spot between your legs. Concentrated puffs of heat stifling from between your lips, “Ch-Choso–”

Honestly, you wanted him so badly you could reach over for your phone and call-

No, no, no, no - your fatigued eyes flick over to the winking clock by your bedside. 3:26AM.

You couldn’t call him over for help now. Choso was so sweet that he’d probably rush over in his pajamas and rack up a fair few tickets on his motorbike.

Which was why you preferred to spend your heats without his help - it had been that way since you’d both presented back in high school.

You’d met Choso after your family had moved to the cutest little suburb in Tokyo, stumbling across the tiny boy-next-door with wide honeypool eyes and a chubby hand that waved shyly your way. Even at the wise old age of eight, you remember thinking how he was so pretty.

Pretty enough that something your health teacher had taught in your last school clanged throughout your mind - this boy was probably an ah…what was the word? Omega.

A quiet, comfortable understanding - and it wasn’t something that the two of you never quite had to talk about too in-depth. At least, outside of sneaking the answers to pop quizzes on secondary genders, and giggling when another classmate sauntered to school with a garish bitemark on their neck.

But, often, you wondered whether you’d ever see Choso with that type of mark.

He never looked at another alpha - not even another omega, or beta, for that matter. You knew that society was stepping towards a more accepting environment for rather “unconventional” pairings - but Choso Kamo seemed well and firmly intent on rejecting every single one of them.

Instead, staying by your side. Unpaired.

Even when he followed you all the way to university - two peas in a pod, so tightly intertwined that most wondered whether you two were mated for life. And he never bothered to disagree - but then again, neither did you.

Even when the years treated him well and he grew so tall, so unfairly attractive. All prettily timid smiles, glinting piercings marrying his ears, and dark, droopy eyes tinged with the slightest kiss of dark eyeliner. Rivalling even the most cocky alphas on your entire campus with his sheer stature and ambience.

Like he was right now.

Towering at the very edge of your unlatched bedroom door.

And only one word registers in your mind - alpha.

Choso - a Choso that was so utterly real and in the flesh - jumps once those startled syllables spill from your mouth.

Fuck, you didn’t even realize you said that out loud.

Not until he’s slamming! one massively spayed-out palm by the side of your doorframe. Shattered pieces of wood crumbling beneath him, you’re unabashedly ogling the flex of his curvaceous biceps. Another hand covering the lower half of his handsome face, Choso rasps. He whines, “You called, m-my omega?”

Oh.

Your entire shivering body bolts upright, like you were being electrified with a thousand voltages of bliss that make your drooling cunt gush. Treacly wafts of pheromones clouding out from you all over again - and the look on Choso’s face is just drunk.

Thick lids so heavy that they were practically falling half-closed, it’s as if his entire body was flushed a prespired red. Lips all ruddied and laminated thinly with spit, his teeth were drawn back into such a wild snarl.

Like he was about to tear something into bits and it might be you.

So…pretty.

It almost hurts you to dart your eyes away in an urgent glance at your suspiciously open call log - did you…really call him in your haze? Fuck.

“Y-you’re-” You swallow a few times - and even then, the words don’t come to you. They can’t. Too stuck on what a delicacy your best friend looked all slumped over by your doorway like he was begging for you. Like he’d crawled all his way to you and would do it all over again. “You’re an alpha, Cho?”

As if you had any doubt now. You could smell the sheer power on him, the thrumming strength threatening to rip through that clingy white undershirt of his. So transparently thin that you could still count every ridge of his washboard abs. And his velvety black boxers hung low-

“Shit-” he gulps. “Yes- fuck! Y-you’re an omega?”

You can only nod. Brows raising when Choso plants another slam right onto your doorframe, indenting all slender lanes of his digits onto it this time. “And is that…mine?”

With a sudden inhalation, you’re snatching behind that sweatshirt of Choso’s that you’d still been holding. Heart thumping - but there was nothing more to say. What could you say?

Turns out, Choso is the first to break. “L-Let me prove it.”

You’re blinking, squeezing your thighs together at the bittersweet throb. You didn’t know what had your honeyed head reeling more - the sudden reveal of Choso’s secondary gender, or his answer. His sheer need. “Prove it?”

Choso’s head hangs low, chestnut bangs covering his greedy gaze, but you could tell that he was looking at you. Really, really looking at you.

Words dripping with something you’d never heard of before. Hoarse. Tight. “Can I…can I come in, beautiful?”

You know you should say no to letting him inside your nest - you know it.

But oh, how it looked like it was taking him every shred of will to keep standing there. To not fucking collapse at the way your gooey pheromones have him spellbound. And he likely would have had it not been for your small, trembling answer, “Yes.”

Choso whimpers - if there was ever a singular moment that would have him crawling back from the afterlife just to re-experience all over again, then it would be this.

When he feels something in the back of his mind switch.

Senses sharpening almost painfully with one step inside your humid bedroom. Two.

Until Choso’s stalking so languidly towards you like a predator cornering his prey, foot by foot. He takes his dreamy time prowling towards you - all the way up until your flushed best friend is looming across the foot of the bed.

There’s something vicious in his eyes. Something that has him salivating, “Can- can I?”

You’re breathing out, “Y-yes.”

Slow, sultry fingers unfurl out to draw a steady line along your ankle - he walks. Fingers blazing up your twitchy thighs, up your drenched excuse of shorts, up, up, up to smear that delirious line of your dribble.

“T-tell me what you want, beautiful.” He pecks an innocent kiss on your forehead, then another to your throat - heaving in your perfumed air. “Anything- I’ll give ya hah- anything.”

His words are low. Hot against your face.

And just about the only thing you can do is slither your unsteady hands down to toy with the hem of your pants. A sight that makes Choso swallow thickly with a rasping grunt.

“I want you to…” you’re trailing off. Fingers dipping down to where you haven’t been able to satisfy for hours now. Your inner omega yelling - screaming that nothing was enough, but he might just be. “-touch me here, Cho.”

SWAT!

Instantly, you’re letting off a saccharine mewl at the way your hand is being oh-so-rudely thwacked away by one of Choso’s own. The slight sting throbbing - but not as much as your poor cunt is when meeting his digits.

Sliding just between your cottony shorts- oh? Choso’s heart stutters. No panties? You really are going to be the death of him. He’s lingering a dewy stroke down your teary slit, honeying his ringed fingers in all your slick juices.

For a second - just a second.

Lightning-fast, Choso’s trailing away with a slew of spatters left behind, and it makes his skin feel ten times hotter. Ten times dirtier in only the best way.

Even more so when those very digits end up slipping easily into Choso’s mouth. One by one. Eyes trained darkly on yours, his long pinkish tongue ends up lazily lathering up and down up and down up and down every beaded gleam of your juices.

“Y-you’re so-” your voice cracks embarrassingly - pathetically, in a way that makes every copious ounce of blood in his body sprint south. “-filthy.”

Pulling off with a waterlogged pop! Choso’s tongue probes between his two long fingers, smacking his lips open and shut with the sticky dredges. And you swear you catch a whiff of smugness in his scent. Yet, he’s blushing, “All for you- only for you, my girl.”

And you can’t even complain - you can’t even tease him about the way that just another mere touch up against your feverish pussypound has Choso gasping. Eyes crinkling with something like delight and sheer awe.

Because he’s crashing his mouth into yours, suckling on your lips like his favorite berry lolly-

“Sh-shit-” Choso’s rich tone cracks into shattering lilts, and you can hear him laugh against your lips. Laugh. Humorless and crazed - pure desperation bleeding out with every swash of his intoxicating vanilla scent. “Beautiful— you taste even sweeter than in my ngh- dreams, y’know that?”

No, you didn’t - you didn’t even know that Choso dreamed of you in the first place.

And you don’t get to pay it any mind because before you know it, the swirling edge of his rounded fingertips tuck just past where your puffy folds were pursing in a ready pucker. Cold metal rings making you gasp.

And Choso’s greedily snuffing out the sound with a sinking bite of his sharpened canines into your wobbly bottom lip. Drinking in every noise from his pretty girl. His pretty girl.

Cratering dimples notching prettily at the ends of his lipbite, he’s practically begging them out with every slow gyration of his fingertips around and around your peaked clit. Tracing over every tiny ridge and sensitive bundle like he was trying to fucking memorize it. “H-has any other- fuck-” Ringing out a thundering growl at the back of his throat that makes your skin coat in tiny goosebumps. “-has any- other- made you feel this good?”

No no no - your inner omega purrs, and you can practically feel yourself groaning lowly at the back of your throat when you pull away.

Trying - failing, when Choso’s chasing your kiss-bitten lips like he was hooked. Slurring after the syrupy strings of spit that smear the traces of your mouth, he’s meshing his lips in a dramatic smooch. Again. And again. And again and again-

“L-look how wet ya are…” And it wasn’t even a command, but you can’t help lolling your head down to blink at the way his pale wrist was glistening with all your laminated juices. Musing, “Gonna make ya feel so fuckin’ good. So good.”

Two deft fingers pinch your clit. Hard.

“Ah! N-no!” Your spine bends into such a pretty curve off the bed, perfectly in position for Choso to slide his massive palm underneath and massage away your tensely knotted back. Your fingers are trekking up the clamoring hike onto his broad deltoids to feel the droolworthy jolt of his back muscles. Babbling belatedly, “N-no other alpha has made me feel s-so…”

So…what?

Hypnotized? Addicted? Gone?

But whatever it was, the sight of you being ruined into a few shattered jumbles of limbs is enough to make Choso’s alpha hum.

Whispering out, “Can I…” And with a steep inhale of the thick surrounding air, he’s gulping. “C-can I-”

Before you’re gracing him with an answer, you’re helping inch those sleep shorts down. Snailing an almost-blasphemous slicked coat that seeps into your skin. He’s twirling his thumb over the remaining excess left behind - not wasting a single drop.

And it takes only one saturated hit from where your pheromones were the most concentrated - only one shy peak down at your drooling cunt - before Choso can feel his mind shattering. Gasping.

The top half of his body all but collapsing on top of yours.

It’s not even on purpose the way he flinches at the thick curve of your thumb floating upwards to tenderly glide away the swab of drool that was flooding Choso’s mouth right now.

His neat brows quirking upwards, heaving chest choppy - you’re so lustily trapped against the bumped-up planes of his pecs. Feeling the rumble of his heated words, “I-I’ve never…”

Sounding so utterly worn-out already, Choso’s planting a few firm pecks at the corner of your chin. He’d meant for it to reach your lips - but he couldn’t. Too in a trance to even think about it. And as if to make up for it, he’s kissing your neck, the valley of your thighs, your tummy. Every and any inch he hasn’t been blessed with reaching for the past few years.

Shuffling all the way until he was practically lips to lips with your sloshing pussy, eyeing down directly at the way your sloppy entrance was welcoming him with another fresh bout of clingy slick. Choso heaves in a long breath.

“Been waitin’ a looong time f’you, y’know? Can I make a mess?” Choso’s whining sweetly, greedy gaze still trained firmly downwards. Tenderly rubbing over your glossed-up folds, “Can I m-make you break?” And those grasping begs of his are barely even audible over the sheer squelching resonating from your slobbery pussy. Your jaw falls slack at how they only make Choso nod. “Y-you’re right- s-so right–”

Talking. And before you know it, the filthiest French kiss is being placed right on your cunt.

He’s not even hesitating, not even easing you into it - because Choso Kamo has waited so long for this. And he was going to have his fill.

“This is what y-you taste like- this good?” Dragging the very pointed tip of his pretty button nose down your plump clit, he’s smushing it in place with a firm kiss at the very edge of your snug hole. “Th-think this cute cunt can take my fuckin’ cock, beautiful?”

So fucking impatient.

You’re tangling one set of fingers into the stray strands of his hair, bucking up to drag a slow glide down the lower half of his pretty face.

And, usually, with an alpha you could be expected to be snapped at with a snarling command. An instruction to just stay put.

But Choso’s only letting his sharp jaw comfy against the silken sheets, head nuzzling drunkenly into your thighs when you’re pushing and pulling him as you please. Leveraging the vice-like grasp on his scalp to drive steady grinds just the way you like it.

Whining, “Need you so bad, baby–”

“Yeah- yeah, use me-” Choso snickers around a teasing bite against the fattened edge of one of your pussy lips. Sucking. “R-reach your pretty high on my face, omega- need you to cum all over me till I-I’m dripping.”

Fuck.

Was this really your nervous, sweet best friend? His words were so dirty, as if he didn’t even realize he was saying them. And they almost make you embarrassed. Shying way just an inch-

“Oh- no. No no no-” His words come buzzing around your clit, and with a final bite of his elongated canines, Choso’s frantic. He’s scrambling. He’s grasping his powerful arms to loop your thighs and dragging you to him like some ragdoll down the protestingly creaky bed. “S’gonna go to waste- can’t- can’t let it.”

And it’s only about then that you’re dredging up the courage to angle your head further downwards - immediately hit with the sinful sight of Choso in heaven between your limp legs.

His hair a disheveled curtain, eyes narrowed and smudged with eyeliner. Damply bleeding down onto the regal apples of his high cheekbones at the way your meady slick was reaching his blushing cheeks. It masks his coral pink lips, his jaw, his fucking chin.

So sopping wet that it’s forming a little puddle down below him that Choso could never even imagine being disgusted by. No, in fact, he was disappointed with himself for not lapping it up even sooner.

Pumpish lips jutting out in a pout, Choso’s pushing away the hair from his eyes sexily. “Wh-why are you runnin’ away- don’t run away, my girl.”

With a slight giggle, you’re veering your scent to tinge with something comforting. And oh, does it do the trick - because Choso’s eyes swoop downwards drunkenly. Almost closed, almost ruined, he’s huffing out a drawled-out mantra of your name, “Lock it.”

“Wh-what?” You’re choking out.

Soft palms massage gently down your legs, wrapping them around the back of his head. “Lock it.”

Oh.

That was a command, and it has your body pulling taut. Every sensory spot all down your skin screaming to obey - yet, this is something you would have done anyway. Ankles tying together, it’s jostling Choso’s hotly open mouth against your pussy so deeply that you wonder whether he doesn’t have to breathe.

Whether he doesn’t even want to.

Because your dear best friend looks so satisfied to die right in the heaven between your legs right now. And he would go such an utterly happy man, too.

Rosy red lips rubbing rawly against your clit, you’re left a puddle of a needy mess when the roughened tastebuds of his tongue swirl in meticulous little circles. Cheeks hollowing as he sucks, your whines can’t even be heard over the most oozy squelches.

“Heheh- she’s talkin’ back ta me-” Choso’s sputtering out peck after peck. In awe. “She’s talking. Th-think she wants ngh- more.”

More.

More, more, more.

Choso’s beginning to think that your dripping pussy’s speaking for himself with the way that’s exactly what he wants right now. Teasing the mushy outer lips of your puckered hole with his fat fingerpads, before bullying in. Inside.

You’re taking him so well - hips careening even further downwards when he’s feeding your greedy cunt with every long inch of his digits. Slow enough that you could count it - just about six, ringed inches all the way to his knuckles.

Shit- it’s so hot inside, as if your pretty pussy was practically melting around him. Molding to his every shape as Choso’s driveling swirling around in rummaging little stripes down your gummy walls. Slow. Slick.

Slender cylindrical intrusions that bump up deftly against your battered g-spots. The chilling stretch of his banded metal rings was too much. Your eager cunt is splattering out a pornographic little gush of your sweet, sweet juices all over again at the way he’s teasingly fondling over that magical spot.

“J-jus’ a little higher, baby–” you’re spewing out. Deprived.

And oh, Choso’s darkened eyes are practically lighting up. He doesn’t pull away from your bruised clit to answer - not even to breathe before vibrating out a keening, “Here?”

So desperate.

Even needier than you.

You’re blinking through large, globular tears that occupy the space behind your lids. Nodding, “A little more- jus- oh!”

And Choso didn’t need to hear it from your lips. Hell, he didn’t even need to hear it from the way your snug channel was all but milking his fingers dry. Clinging on in a soppy kiss when he’s probing into your g-spot harder. Meaner. Because the way your intoxicating scent changes - concentrating ever-so-slightly makes Choso realize that you’re cumming before even you register it.

Slamming headfirst into your high, you’re plowing out a belated cry of “I- fuck- m’cumming, Cho. M’cumming, m’cumming-”

Sparks of white splinter your vision, and your knees find themselves just wrenching free from the lecherous comforts of the bed - but Choso won’t let you escape so easily.

No.

Barely batting an eye, he’s straining his biceps deadlocked around your legs. Pinning you to the bed until you could barely squirm, barely do anything but take his punishing little clashes against your g-spot head-on. Bumping in. Over and over.

Choso suckles on your clit like his favorite little gummy, stretching and nibbling until you see stars with your orgasm.

“Don’t run away-” he’s puffing out into your cunt, the very idea of parting with drizzling pussy making him yelp out a pained grunt. “P-please don’t run away- I promised to make a mess. O-one more f’me, beautiful?”

You’re just molten at his touch. Ravenous and overwhelmingly greedy for you as much as you were for him. Something carnal inside you screaming for more-

“H-hear her?” His eyes are drifting closed at the pulpy little noises your cunt mashes on. Dangling ear piercings twinkling when he’s leering even closer to hear. “Tellin’ me she’s gonna give her- hngh- alpha one more.” Fuck, Choso’s features decorate with the most blazing blush at his own words. How embarrassing. “Wontcha use my mouth all over again? I didn’t get fuuuuck- messy ‘nough last time…”

And as if to prove his point, Choso traces a slow glide of his worked tongue across the sloppily wet coating that drips down his lips. Just for a second.

Your veins bubble sensitively with need at the broken whine sounding from the back of Choso’s throat when you drag him even snugger between your legs. Puffs of leaky pheromones driving the two of you wild, making your hips stutter out a slurring pace up and down his face.

“Th-this pussy is all f’me- isn’t it, my girl? S’all f’me?”

Even sloppier once you battle out a nod.

Your cunt is extra slobbery because of your heat anyways, but Choso’s making such a mess on purpose.

Eyes running away to the back of his head, tongue lolling out even messier. He’s planting such dousing draws of saliva, lathering your sweet spots mercilessly. And his fingers- oh, his fingers were relentless. Shovelling up in solid, wet nudges until you’re able to feel every circular indent of his digits on your g-spot.

Every run of his manicured nails across where you’re sure you were beginning to get bruised. And every-so-often whenever his eyes glaze green with raw greed - with slight, stupid jealousy over his fingers - you’d peek at Choso plunging his digits into his mouth and sucking.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Matching the lecherous sound of your thundering heartbeat, you can feel yourself squeal at the overstimulating touches. Sobbing out the cutest little whines that make Choso chuckle, “Easy– easy there, my girl.” Letting your cunt free with a sodden pwah! only to spit. Once. Twice. A sticky wad of his thick saliva that blusters its way to coat your puffy pussy lips, “You’re cumming again, right? A-all over my face?”

You’re nodding - nodding and nodding so hard, but that wasn’t enough for Choso Kamo.

He wasn’t satisfied until a slow pull of your clit right from between his pearly whites had you bawling out. The backs of your hands dipping upwards to hide your face - which he quickly, and calculatedly spanks away with his free hand. “M’gonna cum soon- ngh- please- Cho- don’ stop.”

Hah, if this was any other time then Choso might’ve laughed.

Might’ve teased you until you were begging for him in that cute voice once more. But maybe it’s the way his alpha was clawing at his chest from the insides to give you whatever you want, maybe it was the way seeing you fall apart on your heat like this all over him had his cock twitching-

Because Choso only smiles - drunk. Dazed. “Cum f’me, p-please. Ruin me, ma’am..”

He was ruined alright.

Absolutely sugar-coated with your overlaying juices - it’s dripping down his bed and disappearing into the now see-through fabric of his undershirt like a badge of honor. A badge to say that he’s made you cum for the second time on his mouth.

That he’s made you squirt.

Splattering out all over his face with every slurping taste - and yet, Choso still couldn’t get enough. Sweeping up the milky droplets, Choso’s boring his heady gaze right into your widened eyes when he’s leering his mouth agape to make you spy the way each splash slides down his throat.

God- you’re seeing white all over again. You’re seeing spots, having you gulp in necessary gasps of the soiled air to once more regain your steady heartpace.

“Ch-Choso-” you’re struggling, voice brittle and gone. Frantically trying to haul - to force - Choso from his favorite home between your cunt, to stop his greedy tongue. “S’enough- can’t cum anymore can’t- ngh-”

“But, beautiful–”

Shit- it would be so easy to get swept up all over again. Because Choso was parched, and he was still far from having his fill.

Words tinting with a slightly commanding tone, you’re making something dark and primal rear its head when you manhandle him upwards with one hand in his locks, and another on his undershirt. So heavy but pliant.

Up, up, up-

“Choso–” you’re mumbling out. And before you know it, Chosos hands had toppled you over into the cushiony mattress, and yours were tracing the edge of his too-tight boxers. Tugging. Needy. “I-I want these- off-”

“Anything.” He’s echoing, like it was all that he could right about now. Dewey brows scrunching up into something of a beg, you’re catching the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Deprived. “Anything f-for you-”

Fuck- in your currently woozy state you’re not sure if Choso removed his pants or if he ripped them off. Stumbling and tripping to let the few scarce tatters droop into the floor in a sullen pile.

With a gulp, your fingers skitter across the planes of his useless undershirt - letting his pretty, bulging muscles peek out at you from underneath when you slide them off of him. Palms smearing in gluttonous little touches across his push pecs, down his rippling abs, down that lusciously dark happy trail and oh-

“S-something the matter, beautiful?” Choso’s heaving in a struggling gulp at the way your gorgeous eyes widen, maw slacking into a soft oh! Head tilting innocently, “M’your hah- best friend, you can tell me a-anythin’.”

“You’re just so…” Comes the whirling answer, your voice slow and alcoholic. He was getting drunk on your words already. “...big.”

Not only was Choso big - he was massive.

The fat, rotund circle of his head ruddied a strawberry pink, gradiating all the way down his shaft to meet blend into his creamy base. He was so hard that it looked painful, visibly throb! throb! throbbing, bumpy lightning bolts of his veins hammering up at you cheekily. He was so pretty - thick enough that you’re feeling your cunt clench already. Even the burn of your stare has Choso’s reddish divot weeping out a few ropey spurts of pre. Making you dizzy with the incredible size and that musky vanilla scent of his.

And was that-

Oh. Fuck.

It was.

Through the honeyed slew of precum pooling at Choso’s thick tip, you’re gasping at the slight wink of something metallic.

Without thinking - without even breathing - you’re drifting your hand down to thumb those syrupy globules thin. Discovering the absolute treasure chest that was a studded Prince Albert’s piercing right near the weepy edge of Choso’s shaft.

“I got if for- you- Gotta a-another one, y’know-” His gentle rasp jolts you out of your sinful reverie, engulfing hands guiding your own to wrap around his flushed tip and peek under. Right on the slippery sliver of his slit, “A ngh- matching one. Th-thought you might like it…”

Oh- two.

And, embarrassingly, you can feel the way your scent turns headier. Hypnotizing. Enough so that Choso can’t help the way he’s hanging by a bare thread, head falling into the crook of your neck to breathe in. “Y-you act so innocent but…”

“But m’only l-like this for you.” He’s tucking your tender earlobe between his teeth. “P-promise. I haven’t even…”

Ah, a virgin.

Sweet and absolutely gifted.

And something about it was so cute the way Choso was acting exactly like it. Every wordless toy of your fingers up and down his sensitive glans, making him snarl a lipbite. Girthy length fucking up in shuddering slams into the cushiony tunnel of your palm. Weightily muscled abs flexing with heat when you’re running a thumb under his head to press down on that silver piercing.

“S-so tiny- heh- your pretty hands are so tiny takin’ my cock, beautiful.” he’s giggling - giggling. Perspiration-simmered forehead knocking into yours, Choso’s letting his tired head loll there and bore into your eyes. “You needa ngh- fuck! Needa slow down, my girl, m’already so close jus’ from making out with yer sweet c-cunt out.” Already close. Just from eating you out. “Else m’n-not gonna be able to control it-”

“I can handle it–” you’re pouting stubbornly. Soft digits clenching even tighter around his cock, and shit, Choso lets his head fall into the junction between your shoulder and your neck.

Finding himself growing more needy. More feral. Tight, hot curdling in his stomach building up and up.

“M’serious.” His lilting voice breaks, teeth skimming over the pulpy flesh of your sweetened pheromone glands. Nibbling. His incredibly shaky fingers wrap around your shoulders, “Please- ngh- please m’gonna break ya.”

And it’s like you wanted him to.

Dick twitching at those filthy fingers of yours - the way they only pump him faster. And faster. Tighter around the hefty base, more teasing up the slippery slope of his tip - like you were trying to milk out something delicious.

And you can already feel the way your mouth lathers with a fresh coating of saliva, face inching closer and closer to the bawling peak of his swollen cock. Wanting oh-so-badly to taste the silver of his Prince Albert’s.

“But I want you to, Cho.”

SMACK!

You’re left stupidly stunned when Choso’s behemoth palm coils like a tight shackle around your tender throat. Pulling you away from his achy cock in a flash, you’re being thrown around like his own personal ragdoll.

And Choso snickers at the way you’re bouncing cutely on the plush mattress, legs drooping wider and wider agape with every sleazy second he really can’t help but leer over you. Wrangling those boneless legs of yours over his shoulder with a sharp click of his tongue.

“I-I already told you, beautiful–” he’s bending down, down down to nose along your sweat-dotted cheeks, your skin stark hot against the icy chain of his silver necklace. Chest grumbling with a slight purr. “M’gonna make such a mess of you- can I?”

And that drunken look in Choso’s eyes made him look like he would absolutely shatter if you let your lips shape into a teasing no right about now. Like those warm, salted tears spattering from the corners of his half-lidded eyes and right onto your cheeks would only hasten.

“Can I- please, my girl- jus’ wanna-” His lips wobble adorably when his sobbing cock glides a slow line between the mushy lips of your pussy. A graze for a graze of his mouth down your own. “-wanna make you mine.”

And just the tip - just a single fat inch shoved into your gummy hole is all it takes for Choso to whimper.

You’re brushing over his precious cheek, “Ch-Cho, are you okay?”

And Choso can’t answer - hell, he doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. Because that gushing little clench of your clingy walls all around his sodden wet tip absolutely ruins him. Delicate rivulets of slobber streaming down the smiling edges of his tongue, he’s puffing out an open-mouthed, “No- fuck- d-do I look okay?”

He didn’t.

He seemed like he was burning up - fucked-out already, practically. Pecs rippling with a bolting flex, muscled body shirking with violent shivers when with a low keen of your name - Choso’s cumming.

“No-” he’s crying out, head flailing backwards. Just from putting it inside for the first time. “No no no no- m’not s’pposed to- yet-”

But he was. Hips recklessly meandering again and again into yours - slight, tugging grinds of just his thickened tip like Choso was afraid of sinking into your heavenly pussy anymore. Like he knew it would break him even more.

Have him flooding out voluminous ribbons of thick seed, splattering against your spongy channel, and smearing around in dripping vertical patterns with every one of his animalistic ruts.

“Give it t’me–” you’re locking your ankles even tighter. Prattling out such filthy nonsense that you’re sure you’d get embarrassed about had you not been in your heat. “I-I need your cum, baby- wan’ it allll inside me-”

“Ngh-” Choso’s letting off a broken sound at the back of his throat, squeezing your own with that one hand of his happily making its home there. Blocking off your airway, your heady pheromones only struggle to waft out even more. Saturating. “D-don’t talk like that- n-not outta ya pussy, beautiful.”

“But I w-ngh! want it-”

He gulps, “A-are you sure?” Because this is his best friend - this is the one person he’d never even dreamt of having because that was too dangerous. Too fanciful. The one person he’d written about in every diary, and gotten teased for it by his family just the same. Perfect.

Yet, you’re so stubborn when you’re in heat. “Mhm– wan’ you to…breed me.”

And he loved it.

Couldn’t get enough of it - or you.

Choso’s scrambling up one of his jostling hands to latch your hips into a perfect almost-semicircle. Lower lip worried underneath his canines when he’s wiping his fat thumb over the dewdrops of seed treacling from your soppy slit.

That digit finds its way rummaging between your lips, “Lock it.”

This time, you don’t need it said twice - you don’t even need it to be a command.

Because Choso’s reigning up his own hand to pin both your ankles behind his head, and you think you’ll forever remember just how hot he looked this way. Biceps bulging with the strain, simmering with a slick sheen of perspiration, and his hips-

Oh, it’s like any and every slip of restraint in Choso’s hulking body snapped.

Because with a loud, saturated squelch! you’re being filled up to what it feels like your lungs with every solid inch of his engorged girth. Inflating your tender insides, buttering your poor cervix with a thick stream of pre when he’s kissing it with a wet thwack!

“Oh- oh.” Choso’s head pushes into the crook of your neck, into your pillow until you were sure that it was soaked with tears of absolute bliss. “Th-this feels nothing l-like my ngh- hand. S’so much more heavenly-”

Yet, you weren’t in the right state of mind to be paying attention to the utter filth that was spilling from your innocent best friend’s mouth. Breath choking up in a lead ball in your throat, you whisper, “Ch-Cho…s’that your knot?”

Your slicked-up folds puckering up in a wet snog against the overinflated ring ballooning around his thick base. The sheer thumping circumference of it makes you squeeze-

“Y-yes–” he’s humming out. The sodden base of his cock thwack! thwack! thwacking your bruising entrance when he’s rutting in and out. Sloppy. Slow. Still trying not to see stars. “God- s’even softer than I ngh- imagined.”

And soft you were.

This is what your sweet pussy felt like? This good? This should be fucking illegal, he was babbling out - but wouldn’t realize until much, much later.

Being spearheaded open with every unapologetic rifle to fill you up, the leftover dredges of Choso’s seed trickle a slippery pathway leading him to ambush your g-spot head on. Stubbing his cool metal piercing into your sweetened bullseyes so hard, you swear you could feel the indenting divot of that sinful Prince Albert’s.

“There?” Mesmerized, his eyes grow wide. “R-right there?”

And he’s hot - so feverish.

Glissading body on top of yours burning up with radiating heat, fracturing our rationality just as much as the sweet vanilla scent of his pheromones were. That tiny heart friendship charm on his necklace hitting your collarbones in a dirty staccato.

You can feel yourself start to drool with how stupid Choso’s cock was fucking you, curling a few neat raking lines down his statuesquely muscled back. It makes him just arch his cock even deeper to jostle your snug insides riotously.

“I-imagined about me a lot?” Ah, you’re finding it in yourself to smirk.

Something that Choso’s jackhammering out in quick, increasingly sloppy juts of his hips. Slathering the entirety of his cock with your slicked juices.

“O-of course.” He’s shifting his eyes gingerly away from yours with a boyish blush. But now that Choso had started talking, he couldn’t stop. “Always wan’ed to f-fuck you through a rut or h-heat like this- to-” Couldn’t keep from hiking up a flattened foot to angle his pierced cockhead into every untouched inch inside you. The special upright curve of his shaft driving you mad. “-to absolutely ruin you and-” The hand at your legs hover right over where he was plummeting your insides with gluey kisses - your womb. “-and make you mine. Ours.”

Ours.

God, just the mere act of confessing those embarrassing little words had Choso’s hulking body practically melting into yours.

It’s like his abs were made of adhesive, massaging up and down your front. Drowning you into the plethora of wrecked sheets and him when he’s collapsing on top of you - but still going. Still placing pound after pound.

“I-I want that too-” And you think you hear Choso sharply gasp, but you can’t confirm over your popping ears. “Always wanted it- ah- wanted you to fuck a baby into me, Cho.”

SLAM!

The slowly-splintering bedframe creaks when one particularly harsh rut has the headboard slamming into the wall behind.

And that’s all he needed to hear.

A baby - he wants a baby. He needs one - and this wasn’t just his alpha talking - and he was going to get it.

All that Choso thinks he ever could hear all through his honeyed mind for the rest of his life. Replaying it over and over in his mind like his favorite catchy tune.

You don’t miss the way that he looks so in love above you, gaze practically heart-eyed and gone. Choso’s raw, swollen lips meteor shower your face with peck after peck - just in time with the collisions of his rounded tip into your sweet spots.

“Boy or girl?”

“H-huh?” you’re questioning, barely-lucidly.

“Boy or girl.”

And after those senseless little answers are falling from your lips, Choso’s brushing a hand over your lower tummy. Pushing. Hard. Until his twitchy knot was covered in buttery residues of cum, “Ah- a-always wan’ed a daughter with ya first. With your c-cute smile and ngh- eyes.”

Huffing out an embarrassed, “Choso.”

And he’s only scooping back in the leaky sediments of seed that he’s responsible for making a mess of. Turning a slow thumb right over your tight ring of muscle, “Gonna have my- ngh- style of course, heh- you’d be the best momma. D-don’t care if you’re my best friend, m’gonna breed ya until you’re overspilling, beautiful.”

You needed it so badly. Your heat turning up a notch until it felt like you were boiling from the inside out, candied scent drifting more.

He’s giggling out, dark lashes batting without his permission. “M’gonna- ngh- take care of you-”. The hand caressing your elastic entrance flies upwards to get cleaned off by his own tongue - before prying your jaw sagging open to spit. “Goood fuckin’ care. N’ hopefully you’ll end up p-pregnant…hopefully.”

He’s encircling the dip in your waist and dragging you forwards to smack against his washboard abs. Unable to squirm. Unable to run away. “Gonna be the p-prettiest momma- the ngh- most beautiful.” Other hand restricting your throat so cozily that your vision tinges with black, “Gonna be mine.”

And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words in mind.

The way your sopping walls were milking him for all he’s worth - so greedily - shoving Choso to tip over the edge, too.

Choso’s letting his body sexily cave into yours, not breaking even a mere inch apart when he’s got you trapped and overfilled with every dollop of his cum icing your insides. And right now you could already feel the way your scents were mixing, the way Choso turns slightly cross-eyed-

Before sharply turning to your glands and biting.

Hard.

His predatory canines break through your epidermis layer like butter, a crimson lipstain gushing from the wound and staining his lips a handsome rouge.

And - only belatedly, once your omega’s snapping at you with her teeth bared - do you realize that it’s your turn to do the same. As if you would want any other.

Locking your jaw to dig into his pale, dampish throat, Choso sucks in his cheek to muffle the slightest whine when you’re wringing him through every speck of bliss he could possibly ever feel in a lifetime. Furious cock stuttering out a few more lazy wisps of cum at the mingling feeling of finally being yours.

“Not ‘nough-” He’s eyeing the leftover ring of cum painting his knot, “Can I fill ya up m-more? Please? Please- my girl.”

You’re pulling away with a woozy nod to rub your thumb over the dug indents of your teeth, gently soothing slow circles over the feral sting.

Filling you up over and over with each pound, he’s fucking you into the mattress like he hates you. And he’s fucking you like every shuddering ram had a creamy ounce of cum pouring into your gummy walls. Glueing in wet splats against your g-spot, your cervix, like a second sloppy skin.

Generous helpings of cum drifting into almost blanks-

“Heh- haaaah- y’know tha’s makin’ me still c-cum, beautiful.” Choso’s leaving sodden kisses on your own mark, your lips. “M’sorry m’sorry I- I can’t stop- I just- can’t.”

And it’s sheer animal nature in you that’s screaming at you that you don’t want him to stop until you’re sure it takes. That’s bending down a hand as much as deftly as possible to wrap around Choso’s slightly softening cock - that only tuts in impatience.

“Wh-when I said inside-” You’re pumping his soaked base as much as possible, feeling the stiffening twitch at his tip buried inside you. “-I mean- inside-”

It’s like you’re being split-apart - like you couldn’t be any fuller if you tried.

And, yet, only the very curvaceous top of Choso’s inflated knot had bullied its way in-between your lewdly stretched hole. Gaping a pathway so incredibly girthy that it makes you scrunch your brows, head tumbling backwards.

“Oh- oh, my greedy, greedy girl.” But Choso doesn’t look one bit admonishing - not one bit. Slithering a hand down to your cunt, he’s steamrolling two thick pads of his fingers. Rubbing up against your squeamish walls, scissoring your tight entrance so amply open. “I can put it…inside. R-really, really inside?”

Oh, Choso doesn’t know what blessings he’s received in his past lives. But absolutely nothing could have prepared him for how swelteringly hot and cushy you were around his fat knot.

Swallowing up the bulging circlet, plugging up your seeping slit safely so that you’re not spilling a single glutinous splotch of his cum. So that it will take. It’s such a tight fit. Such a burning stretch. You felt so full you could burst with every throb of his swollen knot probing your walls.

Ah, you look so pretty this way.

And Choso’s half-wishing he had a camera to capture this moment. With his lips pressing a few syrupy kisses along every inch of skin he could reach. Somewhere near your tummy - so full and slightly inflated with the copious amounts of cum that were dumped inside you.

He’s murmuring something drunken - something you probably weren’t even supposed to hear. But at the curious tilt of your head, your best friend chews over his lips nervously.

And a giddy smile plasters across your face at the saccharine love in your best friend’s eyes - the way he was probably mulling over asking you out on a date. There was no turning back at this point, and your omega purred in agreement as you got ready to say yes. For him to say a sweetened-

“Marry me.”

A/N. You show up at the next Itadori family dinner with a ring and Sukuna has an actual heart attack.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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cosycafune · 7 months ago

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RELENTLESS CONQUEROR

1.5k words. you’re not supposed to give in; that’s your first mistake. confessing to a man that’s notorious for deals is only going to screw you over. but, having him between your thighs, ruining you, makes you forget about sylus’ nature.

acts: multiple creampies, slight choking, rough sex, teasing, corruption kink, breeding kink, crying, orgasms, missionary, light sadistic tendencies, pet names, overstimulation, size difference, big cock, hickeys and potentially more.

a/n: there's only so much I can write for him. I love him.

RUINED, that’s what you are. The moment you revealed your love for Sylus, he couldn’t help but grasp you – sexually reforming you. As a confession fleed from your lips, his usually stoic demeanour faltered. Faltered with cockiness that you knew would be your demise.

Perhaps that was why you’re here right now? Pulverised, stuffed immensely with his colossal cock? Tears streamed from your wavering eyes, paving you into gasping, moaning and writhing as he thrusts inhumanely within you. All forms of coherency fled from you, leaving you a trembling, jolting mess – mushy at Sylus’ precise cock ruining.

Your gummy walls engulf him, completely overwhelmed and claimed. Tears stream down your cheeks while Sylus cloudily meets your eyes, taking you in missionary. To him, he had to memorise you in your rawest form. Rawest form as your large breasts bounce, your pursed lips stammer crazily, and your throat bubbling with his name.

“Sylus! Ah!” You hazily moan, barely capable of holding his sculpted back – lazily attempting to clutch the ridges of Sylus’ abs.

“Fuck! Say… you love me, Sweetie,” Authoritatively pleading, Sylus’ carmineeyes admire your prisoned self — fuelled by lustful adrenaline.

“Ngh! I-I…love you, Sy’,” Moaning, whining obediently, you arch abnormally – completely conquered by Sylus’ cock thrusting its deepest within you.

“A-Again,” Cloudily commanding you, Sylus picks up his extremely swift pace – in love with the addictive warmth that flows from your needy cunt.

“Yes! I…Ah! Love…you,” Flustered, you're barely able to speak – mentally consumed by Sylus grunting within your ear.

“Look at…you, sweetie,” So close to crumbling, you grow extremely close to finishing – longing for Sylus to inform you that he loves you.

Positioned upon his ample, seclusive bed, you glimpse into his eyes. A whisper of vulnerability holds them, leading to you guiding your trembling hand to settle upon his cheek. Even as your small hand is entwined with his own, his toned hips primal, marking you with his fruitful cock, Sylus listened to every essence of you.

It’s as if he preyed on your vulnerability, posing himself to watch your crumbled expressions worship his cock. With each lick of sweat upon you, each gasp, moan and plead for more, you knew Sylus basked within it. No, you knew he had estimated how long it’d take for you to break your intimate barriers for him. Innately, guided by fate, you knew he was mentally intrigued by how swiftly you admitted your love. Admitted your love to be beneath him, overpowered by his veiny cock, consistently cumming and faltering.

“‘Need…more,” Pleading, moulded to accommodate Sylus eternally, you grow obedient.

The obedience you display sculpts Sylus into a hazardous state, boyishly grinning before he maintains intense eye contact. Wealthy with your clinginess, Sylus increases the skin slapping in the room, watching your eyes impossibly roll back, your brain mushed at how stupidly good he fucked you. Sylus is proud and consumed by how someone as stubborn and naive as you handle him. Handle his devilish cock, going an unstable amount of sexual rounds.

Seeing you, someone promoted as untouchable, detesting his presence, sexually succumbing to him – begging – heightened Sylus’ ego. Taunting you, he can’t help but stop his addicted cock – looking down at the ego-shattering mess of you. If you knew what you looked like, pouty, messy, flaunting glassy eyes for him, he knew you’d be unable to redeem yourself.

“S-So…near,” Breathless, you choppily hurl your pointless words, “D-Don’t…stop.” Clenching drastically around Sylus’ cock, you lovingly press your lips against his own – listening to his air-less breaths.

“When you…kiss me like that.” Lulled by you, Sylus is incapable of resisting – relishing the intimate warmth your kiss promotes.

Sombrely, you both had kissed in disadvantaged circumstances. Obstacles engulfed you both each time. So, sacrificing your honour, and giving Sylus genuine affection, warmed him immensely. Having you, knowing you were once discontent with him, flares Sylus’ primal instincts. A surge of desperation writes his fate, paving him into gifting you a deep thrust – greeting the sexual spots you love heavily.

“I…love you,” Subconsciously speaking, you gasp with each thrust – revealing each mental card you hold. Your poker face had crumpled, leaving behind your purest love for Sylus.

“Mhm,” Sylus mutters, feeling you frantically clench around him – unable to compose yourself. You’re so close to faltering, cumming all over his pulsating cock – but your subconsciousness wants to hear him return your words.

“Do…you?” Teary, faintly questioning Sylus, you greet his rolling eyes – noticing his firmness increasing within you.

“Hm–” As Sylus readies himself to speak, you mewl, too overwhelmed by the macaroni-imitating sounds, the wicked skin slapping and the emotion-heavy atmosphere.

Breathing heavily beneath him, attempting to pry Sylus away, so close to finishing, you sink further into the bedsheets. Spewing tears, your eyes close, your lips draw apart further and your back arches. Even caged, presented with limited freedom, you impulsively gather might. Using your might, you claw at Sylus’ back, your dainty hands barely covering the surface of his manly back.

“Ah! Sylus!” Freeing yourself, you clamp around his pulsating cock – finishing intensely. Your willpower shredded itself, surrendering you to Sylus entirely.

“Finished?” Teasing you, Sylus sharpens his pounding – decimating your overstimulated pussy. Even as your adorable cum decorates his manly cock, he can’t help but continue – bounded by the feeling of you.

“G-Good,” Mentally misplaced, you respond to his fuzzy voice – noticing the Sylus’ eager bucking.

To you, you could sense he longed for more. Each one of his thrusts was becoming a little sloppy, paired with his heavy breathing. Sylus is dripping with sweat, admiring a sleepy you – burying himself his deepest within you. He knew you struggled to take his thickness, but easing you through it was the best thing he had ever done. It represents the subconscious trust you carry for him, revealing your nude vulnerability and your guarded heart.

“L-Let…me,” Pussy-stricken, Sylus stutters – consumed by the tingling warmth that cuddles his whole physique. However, he still has adorable, crimson ears. Ears you’d always tease.

Nodding, you lazily wrap your burly legs around Sylus’ abdomen – desperate to immortally seize him. Nothing in you wanted to release his closeness, to protect your future. Everything within you wanted to keep him here, have him cum in you so many times, uncaring if you end up pregnant. All you wanted was everything of him, no matter how much love bit you – putting you in overwhelming situations.

Sacrificing yourself, you feel Sylus grow increasingly aggressive and more possessive. Animalistically, he brings his hand to settle around your neck – moaning, grunting and growling at the submissive scenery of you. Sylus goes his absolute hardest, turned on by your overstimulated self. Just seeing you, croakily moaning, completely broken into, churned his heart.

You’re all his now, something he won’t forfeit. Even as you subconsciously cry, your jiggly breasts bouncing, your squelching pussy wanting more, Sylus can’t bring himself to release you. He knows you want all of his thick, fruitful buckets of semen, but he wanted to taunt you a little bit. Even if it renders him into painful, yet beautiful, pleasure, he doesn’t care. Depriving you, corrupting you, it was what he loved most. As if he’d give you his cum right now, filling you up to listen to you purr with satisfaction.

“‘Can’t…resist,” Admiring your hickey-scattered self, Sylus cries out with angst – his abdomen a crazed mess as he intensely cums inside of you.

Happily, Sylus stuffed you like a twinkie bar – overstuffing you with his spilling seed. As you arch at his extremely intense release, Sylus softly increases the pressure on your neck – remaining his deepest within you. Whilst you’re laying beneath him, a sticky and sweaty mess, he lets his cock kiss your cervix once more – shooting out his last cum spurts. Marking you made him gleeful, leaving you with a belly full of him.

He did not care that you’re ovulating, right now.

“You…did good, sweetie,” Exhausted, pulling out, Sylus breathlessly praises you – looking into your fluttering eyes. He could see the conflict that stirred within your glassy eyes.

“Y-Yeah, but,” Doubtful, you stop speaking – feeling him alter his physique. Sylus slowly settled you upon his chest, giving a nude you the sound of his rumbling heartbeat.

“Speak,” Doused with curiosity, Sylus’ low, scruffy tone forces you to answer. His authority’s off the charts, knowing you’re vulnerable now.

“You never said it,” Physically drained, you respond to him – meekly shying away at his intimidating demeanour.

“That I love you, sweetie?” Sylus’ almost conclusive question causes your stomach to inhabit butterflies.

You didn’t even care that you could get pregnant or anything that could happen.

“Yeah,” Meek, you reply to an attentive him – listening to Sylus’ heartbeat rise erratically.

You did that.

“I love you, sweetie,” Embedded with truth, Sylus reassures you – plastering a gentle kiss upon your temple.

Gentleness adheres to you, causing you to cave into his hold. Listening to him speak so sincerely, riddled with the art of love, completely consumed you. Heartiness adheres to you, pushing you into relishing Sylus’ presence. Even if love bites, you can’t help but relish Sylus’ presence – rendered love-stricken.

Weirdly, you didn’t want to resist the bites of love. Naturally, you pledge to embrace them – especially since they came from Sylus.

—

#love and deepspace sylus #love and deep space #lads sylus #sylus x you #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus qin #sylus smut #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace

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sweet-as-an-angel · 7 months ago

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Cult. [M]

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Raw Dogging, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Implied Unwanted Pregnancy, Power Imbalance, Big Dick! Ghost, Soft Dom! Ghost, Cult Leader! Ghost, Submissive (and Breedable)! Reader, Implied Abortion Attempt, Fem Reader, Profanity.

He’s filthy in the way he treats you, like a common whore, spreading you out over his desk – once-varnished mahogany, now bleached with weeks’ worth of spend, of tears, rubbed raw in places, the phantoms of many a night relentless under your leader – and bearing your body like it’s his god-given duty.

In essence, it is. Albeit, a god he created – fabricated – to lead lambs into a wolf’s den. And with the primal, savage way he forces himself into you, his tip pulsing and throbbing with the many hours he’s subjected you to, you can very well believe he is the very image of a predator.

“Won’t stop ‘til you’re full – ‘til it’s– fuck– ‘til it’s taken,” Simon pants, his shadow cloaking you, the sweat from his broad chest dripping down onto your sodden back. Your cheek is pressed into the desk, and in the corner of your vision, between the narrowed eyes you fight to keep open amidst the electric annihilation sparking between your legs, just below your stomach, you see him with bared teeth and dark eyes that glint with some unholy purpose. A purpose that only makes the feeling writhing inside you stronger, heavier.

With a deft hand – his other planted by your head, a cage – he finds your clit and presses it between two fingers as if it were the stub of a cigarette. He squeezes. Hard.

Your lips quiver around him and a strangled moan escapes you, euphoria becoming you, possessing you as something had him.

You keen on his hand, desperate for contact, for friction, despite him already filling you utterly and without mercy. Your arousal drips into his hand, pools in his palm. It takes all his will not to drink it then and there.

“I know, Doll–” ‘Doll’ – the name he’d given you, the name that reminds you you’re his to use as he pleases. His fingers squeeze your clit between them, a flesh vice. You’re gasping. He doesn’t stop, subjecting you to a pleasure so carnal you know only he can grant you it.

His free hand finds your shoulder, slips down your soaked back – a collage of brutal love-making, of animal rutting, of feral and incessant breeding – leaving goosebumps in its wake. He finds your rump, squeezes it, his hand flipping further between your legs until he finds your epicentre.

You’re so sensitive, and so swollen. He’s done this enough times to know that you’re red there, too.

He finds the spot where you’re connected, the modest sliver of his shaft that hasn’t been consumed by your wanting hole – where your combined arousal slithers out of you, dripping down his tightening ballsack – and plays at the edges of your lips, those that create a milky ring at the base of his cock, those that twitch with the almost overwhelming orchestra of sensations he is subjecting you to, playing you as his instrument.

Your hips twitch, pushing back against him, inadvertently impaling yourself on the inch or two he’d spared you from.

He’s swollen – painfully so. Plugging you, preventing you from getting away. Something you realise all-too late as you try to pull away, to ease the searing ache in your lips, in your womb.

You’re crying, he’s grunting, throat raw with hours of praise, of nothing short of feral growling – curses to something other than his god.

You whine as he withdraws his hand from between your legs, instead coming to cup your breasts and pull you flush against his chest. Squeezing around him again, the bulge of his cock inside you becomes ever more apparent when his hand slips up to your throat and he shunts you forward with his hips.

You’re weak – a ragdoll against him – and you’re pushed back down against the wood. He presses your stomach to the desk, your head now handing over the edge.

“D’you feel it, love?” he rasps. “Gonna give you a baby – put it right there.”

You do feel him, like an eel, slithering into any space he can, any space he hasn’t already occupied. You feel your heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and you feel his in the head of his dick, rabid. You want to sob, want the pleasure coursing through your every fibre to overwhelm you, to send you hurtling into a high nobody else can give you.

But you know this will have consequences.

You know there’s no morning after pill strong enough to overcome Simon’s seed, none strong enough to stand a chance against the sheer amount of his spend. You know this because you’re already pregnant.

You’d originally tried using a multitude of contraband substances – pills, medication, anything you could get your hands on – to stop the inevitable. To prolong it just long enough for you to find a way out of the hole you’d dug yourself into.

When Simon had found them – no doubt with the help of one of his disciples, one eager to please and who would settle for the simple pleasure of being the dirt beneath his boot – he made absolutely certain to undo all your hard work.

For days afterwards, when he gave his sermons, you had to stand, hands clasped in prayer, with his cum rolling down your thighs beneath your compound-issue garments.

And despite how you know you don’t want this destiny he’s imparted upon you, you still urge your hips against his. Especially as you feel him twitching, your hole leaking and almost squealing with his semen and the memory of the many times he’s already pumped you full this same night. He’s ready to bust at any moment, ready to find and create any excuse to empty his load into you, his favourite disciple.

You finish first in a fit of euphoric fury, an outpouring of devotion, a static explosion that leaves you utterly spent and entirely limp, unable to move as Simon continues to pummell you, using you, not stopping until you hear him give nothing less than a guttural roar, throwing his head back as he empties every ounce of his spend into you.

Any chances of escaping, any hopes of the world beyond the company you’d embroiled yourself in – they’re all gone now. Knocked clean out your head and from your reach, your mind nothing but a post-haze. You feel full almost to the point of bursting, but your body settles for a ballooned discomfort in your middle. One which you know will only grow bigger and heavier over the coming months. And no doubt beyond that when Simon deems you capable – worthy – of bearing him more offspring.

Simon is panting behind you, hands planted either side of you, head hanging between heaving shoulders. As if he’s impregnated you with his very soul.

His hand slips across the desk down to your front, where he manages to levy his fingers between your exhausted form and the hard wood beneath. And, as if by divine intuition, he gives a hum. Presses a languid kiss to your exposed neck, uttering a “Well done, love.”

He’s going to be a father.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

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areislol · 1 month ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤyandere monster harem

pairings. various m! yandere monsters x gn! reader

warnings. yandere themes, toxic obsession, 18+ dark themes

a/n. i love my sillies!!

wc. 6.1k

imagine a dark, mystical forest where you're the lone human, fated to cross paths with a group of terrifying yet obsessively devoted monsters.

each of them is unique in their appearance and abilities, but they all share one thing: an unrelenting desire to make you theirs, no matter the cost.

the werewolf

a hulking figure with sharp claws, wild amber eyes, and a low growl that vibrates through your very bones. he encountered you when you wandered too close to his den during a full moon. despite his primal instincts, he resisted harming you, instead captivated by your bravery—or foolishness.

he tracks your scent everywhere you go. if you so much as step outside, he’s already following from the shadows, ensuring your safety (and warding off anyone who dares to come near).

he marks your belongings with his scent and doesn’t hesitate to bare his teeth at anyone he deems a threat. you’re his mate, and he’ll challenge anyone who thinks otherwise.

though rough and wild, he becomes uncharacteristically gentle when he sees you hurt or scared, licking your wounds and curling protectively around you.

the werewolf is a wild, untamed force of nature, his obsession with you rooted in instincts so primal he can't suppress them even if he tried.

he watches you from the shadows, always nearby but rarely letting himself be seen at first. your scent drives him to madness—earthy, warm, uniquely you. it's comforting and addictive, and he can't get enough. he's stolen pieces of your life to keep close: a scarf left behind, a mug you drank from, anything that holds your essence.

his possessiveness is terrifying. he won't let anyone else near you if he can help it. if someone gets too close, he intervenes, his voice low and threatening, his golden eyes burning with barely concealed rage. no one dares challenge him; there's something in the way he moves, the way he looms, that screams danger.

he doesn't understand human boundaries. if you're speaking to someone too long, he'll step in, claiming he needs to talk to you or finding some excuse to drag you away. if you protest, he'll growl—not at you, never at you—but in frustration. you're his; why can't everyone else see that?

but with you, he's soft. gentle. when he's sure you're not afraid of him, he'll let you closer, let you see the man beneath the beast. his touch is careful, almost reverent, as if he's afraid he'll break you. when you're upset, he wraps himself around you, his warmth and presence enough to shield you from the world.

his affection shows in small ways. he brings you gifts from the forest: flowers, feathers, shiny rocks he thought you'd like. he watches your reaction closely, his heart swelling with pride when you smile. if you ever thank him, he becomes almost shy, looking away with a faint blush creeping up his neck.

jealousy is his constant battle. if he sees someone making you laugh or smile, his claws dig into his palms. he won't confront you about it, but the person who caused his jealousy might find themselves on the receiving end of his wrath later.

at night, he lingers near your home. the thought of you alone, unprotected, drives him crazy. he paces, his instincts screaming at him to stay close. sometimes, he leaves small signs that he's there—a paw print in the dirt, a tuft of fur snagged on a branch—as if he wants you to know he's watching over you.

his biggest fear is your rejection. he knows he's more beast than man, and the thought of you being afraid of him keeps him awake at night. if you ever flinch or pull away, it shatters him, and he'll retreat, his golden eyes filled with pain. but he always comes back, unable to stay away, his obsession too strong to overcome.

you are his anchor, his reason for fighting the beast within. he doesn't care what it takes; he'll keep you safe, even if it means keeping you all to himself. his love is overwhelming, suffocating, but he doesn't see it that way. to him, it's devotion—pure, unbreakable, eternal.

his growl rumbled low as kael draegon stepped from the shadows, his golden eyes fixed on you with that same wild, desperate intensity.

"don't be afraid," kael draegon whispered, his voice rough but steady as he offered you his hand. the cold breeze tugged at his hair as he stood beside you, his voice soft as he murmured, "you're safe now, with me."

kael draegon always seemed to appear just when you needed him, his presence both calming and terrifying. his hand lingered on your shoulder for just a moment before kael draegon pulled back, his voice almost apologetic. "old instincts, i'm sorry."

the vampire

elegant and poised, with glowing crimson eyes and a voice like silk, the vampire first saw you in the dead of night. he was drawn to the purity of your blood but became enthralled by the purity of your soul instead.

his pale, marble-like skin seems to glow faintly in the moonlight, untouched by time or imperfection. his crimson eyes burn with a smouldering intensity, framed by thick lashes that only add to his magnetic gaze.

his raven-black hair falls in soft, silky waves around his sharp cheekbones, perfectly complementing his aristocratic features. his tall, slender frame moves with a predatory grace, and his voice—smooth as velvet—wraps around you like a dark lullaby.

he loves to watch you sleep, marvelling at your vulnerability. He’ll slip into your room at night, not to harm you, but to leave gifts—a rose, a letter, or even a piece of jewellery from an unknown era.

the vampire despises anyone who captures your attention. Friends, family, or even strangers—they’re nothing but distractions. He may use his hypnotic gaze to erase their presence from your life.

he gets flustered when you show him kindness, like bandaging a wound he sustained in your defence. he tries to hide his blush, but his pale complexion betrays him.

the vampire is as elegant as he is dangerous, his presence suffocating yet alluring, like the pull of a siren's song on a lonely traveler at sea. his crimson eyes gleam in the dark, reflecting centuries of wisdom and hunger, but when he looks at you, they’re soft, desperate, and entirely devoted. you’re his obsession, his muse, his reason to exist in a world that has grown cold and lonely with age.

he first saw you during one of his midnight wanderings, his attention drawn by your scent, a sweet, intoxicating mix of vulnerability and warmth. you were an easy target at first—a stranger out on a walk, unassuming, untouched by the weight of the supernatural world. but then he watched you, from the shadows, and the hunger in him shifted. you weren’t just food, not in the way he expected. you were you.

his obsession grew quickly, a slow, crawling thing that nestled in his bones. he has a habit of appearing when you least expect it: slipping through your window as you sleep, standing at the end of a dark alley when you’re walking home, always close but never intrusive enough to harm you. he studies you with endless fascination, watching how you move, how you smile, how you react to the smallest moments of life. you are his everything.

he is a master manipulator, charming and patient, with a voice like silk and words that dance between honeyed promises and half-truths. he always knows just what to say, always seems to be exactly where you are, making sure you feel safe.

but beneath the charm is something ancient, something sharp—a predator who has learned how to play the long game to get what he wants. you are his, and he has all the time in the world to make sure you know it.

his jealousy is sharp and swift. the moment another person shows even the slightest interest in you, his eyes narrow, his smile turns colder. it doesn’t take much for him to make his presence known, weaving himself into your life, into your conversations, until the other person is left with nothing but fear or confusion. you are his, and he’ll ensure that no one else tries to stake their claim.

he doesn’t simply show his obsession through manipulation. he is far more intimate, far more human in the moments where he can let his guard down. he’ll leave you gifts—roses with petals as red as blood, antique trinkets from his many years of wandering, or old letters written in his perfect, flowing script.

he tries to convey his feelings subtly, his words wrapped in metaphors and promises, but they always come from the deepest part of his heart.

he’s possessive in the way only a centuries-old predator can be. he touches you often, with a hand to your cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, or lightly grazing your hand as if you might slip away at any moment.

he isn’t violent, not by nature, but his love is all-encompassing, wrapping itself around you like a snake squeezing its prey. you belong to him in every way, and he has no intention of letting you slip out of his grasp.

his dark powers allow him to watch you from afar, slipping into your dreams, invading the quiet moments of your subconscious. you’ll wake with his voice lingering in your mind, his whispers promises of eternity, of a life spent with him, of safety, beauty, and endless nights. he wants you to rely on him, to lean into his presence, to crave his touch, until you can’t imagine your life without him.

when you show kindness or affection toward him, his calm, elegant mask slips. his eyes soften, his voice trembles slightly, and he finds himself speechless.

he’s terrified of showing too much, of letting you see the raw hunger that lies beneath his smooth exterior, but he can’t stop himself. your smile, your laughter, it means everything to him, more than centuries of darkness and isolation ever could.

he would give you everything. his life, his immortality, his heart. but he struggles with the weight of his own nature—the bloodlust that lies just beneath his perfect, pale skin. he’s not just obsessed with you out of a need to control or dominate; he truly cares. he wants you safe, protected, happy. but his fear of losing you makes him cruel, calculating, and relentless.

you are his forever, and he has no intention of sharing you with anyone else, not with the world, not with time, not with destiny itself. his love is suffocating, but it is eternal, and as much as it terrifies him, he knows you’ll never escape his grasp. he’ll make sure of it.

his voice was like silk as dorian vale leaned against the window frame, his crimson eyes glinting in the moonlight

"you shouldn't be out here alone," dorian vale said smoothly, stepping closer, his voice as soft as a whisper. dorian vale’s gaze was piercing, unyielding, and you could feel every moment of his attention as he looked at you

he handed you a single red rose, his pale fingers delicate as he said, "for you, my dear.

his presence lingered, and you could feel dorian vale’s words in your bones as he whispered, "you were always meant to be mine."

the ghost

a shadowy figure with hollow eyes that glow faintly in the dark, the ghost is a tragic soul who found solace in your warmth. his attachment to you began when you unknowingly lingered in the house he haunts, speaking softly to the empty air as if sensing his presence.

alaric’s form is translucent, a faint, glowing silhouette that shifts and flickers like mist. his features are soft and hauntingly beautiful, with a melancholy that clings to him like a shadow.

his once-vivid eyes are now pale, like the reflection of a full moon in still water, and his long hair drifts around him as if caught in a gentle breeze. though incorporeal, he retains the faint shape of his elegant hands and tall, lean frame, an echo of the man he once was.

his presence feels like a cool touch on your skin, a constant, bittersweet reminder of his undying devotion.

he manipulates the environment to keep you close—doors creak shut when you try to leave, and objects mysteriously disappear, only to reappear where he wants you to stay.

if anyone hurts you, the ghost unleashes his wrath. lights flicker, temperatures drop, and your assailants are haunted until they’re too terrified to approach you again.

he’s deeply moved when you acknowledge him, even if it’s just a whisper to the air. your willingness to accept him, despite his incorporeal nature, solidifies his eternal devotion.

the ghost is a tragic, ethereal figure, bound to you by a love that death itself couldn’t sever. his form is translucent, shimmering faintly in the moonlight, and though he may no longer have a heartbeat, his emotions are as raw and overwhelming as they were in life. he exists in the liminal space between the living and the dead, obsessed with you in a way that is both haunting and heartbreakingly tender.

he doesn’t remember how or when it started—only that one day, he found himself drawn to you, unable to leave your side. whether it was your voice, your laughter, or the way you brought life to even the smallest, most mundane moments, you became his light in the suffocating darkness of his afterlife. he watches you from the corners of rooms, a faint chill in the air marking his presence, his spectral form always lingering just out of reach.

his love is quiet, but all-consuming. he whispers your name into the night when you sleep, his voice carried on the softest breeze. he rearranges small things in your home to make his presence known: a book left open to a meaningful passage, a flower you swore wasn’t there before resting on your windowsill. at first, it’s subtle—gentle signs that you’re never truly alone—but as his obsession deepens, the signs become harder to ignore.

jealousy eats away at him when others capture your attention. he can’t bear the thought of you being close to anyone else, of you laughing or smiling with someone who isn’t him. when you’re out, he follows you like a shadow, unseen but ever-present, and if someone gets too close, the air turns cold, the lights flicker, and an unshakable unease settles over them until they leave.

he craves your touch, but his incorporeal form makes it impossible. this frustrates him endlessly, and he spends nights lingering near you, reaching out as if he could somehow feel the warmth of your skin, the beat of your heart. his desperation leads him to try anything to bridge the gap between life and death, no matter the cost.

despite his possessiveness, he’s deeply protective. he uses his abilities to shield you from harm, warding off danger with an almost primal ferocity. if someone threatens you, they’ll find themselves plagued by unexplainable misfortunes—objects falling, shadows moving, and an unrelenting sense of being watched. he doesn’t harm them directly, but his presence is enough to terrify even the boldest.

when he speaks to you, it’s with a voice like the echo of a forgotten melody, soft and tinged with sorrow. he tells you things you shouldn’t know—secrets from your past, glimpses of your future, things only someone who’s been watching you so intimately could know. he wants you to feel his devotion, his undying love, even if it frightens you.

there’s a tragic loneliness to him. he knows he can never truly be with you, not in the way he desires, and this realization drives him to the edge of despair. his love is obsessive, yes, but it’s also painfully pure—an eternal yearning for a connection he can never fully have.

if you acknowledge him, his devotion only deepens. the smallest smile, a whispered “thank you” into the empty room, is enough to make his entire existence worthwhile. he clings to these moments, replaying them endlessly in his mind, as they are his only solace in an eternity of longing.

he follows you everywhere, unseen but ever-present, his translucent form flickering in the corner of your eye or casting a fleeting shadow against the wall. at first, his presence is subtle, almost unnoticeable: the faint creak of floorboards when no one else is home, a cold breeze brushing against your skin, the lingering feeling that someone is watching you. but as his obsession deepens, his presence grows stronger, more impossible to ignore.

he learns everything about you. the way you hum absentmindedly when you’re focused, the scent of your favorite tea, the books you read late into the night. he listens to the sound of your heartbeat as you sleep, a steady rhythm that lulls him into a state of peace he hasn’t felt since he was alive. he treasures these moments, hoarding every detail about you like precious relics of a life he can never fully be part of.

his jealousy is a storm that rages within him. when others come into your life, his calm demeanor shatters. he can’t bear the thought of you sharing your smiles, your laughter, or your attention with anyone else. the air around you grows colder when someone he deems a threat is near, and they often find themselves inexplicably uneasy in your presence. lights flicker, objects fall, and whispers echo in the corners of the room, driving them away with a fear they can’t explain.

but with you, he is soft, almost fragile. he speaks to you in whispers, his voice carrying the faint echo of a forgotten melody, full of longing and sorrow. "don’t be afraid," he murmurs into the quiet of the night. "i’ll always protect you." his words are laced with an aching devotion, a promise to guard you from harm, even if you don’t fully understand where the comfort is coming from.

he leaves you gifts, though he has no tangible hands to place them. a single white flower on your windowsill that wasn’t there the night before, an old, weathered book that appeared on your desk, or a faint message written in the condensation on your mirror. they’re tokens of his affection, his way of reminding you that you’re not alone, even when he can’t be seen.

despite his protectiveness, he’s painfully aware of his limitations. his incorporeal form frustrates him to no end—he longs to touch you, to hold you, to feel the warmth of your hand in his, but the barrier between life and death is unyielding. he spends countless hours watching you, reaching out with ghostly fingers that pass through you, yearning for a connection he can never truly have.

he’s haunted by the memory of what it felt like to be alive, to love and be loved in return. his obsession with you is his only solace in a world of emptiness, but it also drives him to desperation. he begins searching for ways to bridge the gap between your worlds, delving into the supernatural, seeking answers, rituals, or bargains that might bring him closer to you.

when you acknowledge him, even in the smallest ways, it’s everything to him. a whispered “thank you” when you notice the flower he left, a hesitant glance toward the flickering light he caused—it fills him with a joy so profound it nearly breaks him. he clings to these moments, replaying them endlessly in his mind, as they are the only proof that he still exists to you.

his love is all-consuming, a desperate and eternal yearning that leaves no room for anything else. he doesn’t just want to protect you; he wants to be with you, to share in your life, to have a place in your heart. he knows his love is overwhelming, even suffocating, but he can’t stop. you’re his reason for lingering in this world, the one thing that makes his cursed existence bearable.

in his more vulnerable moments, he confesses his feelings, his voice trembling with a sorrow that spans lifetimes. "i’m sorry," he whispers, his spectral form flickering like a dying flame. "i didn’t mean for this to happen. but i can’t let go. i won’t." his words are both a plea and a promise, a declaration of a love that will haunt you forever.

his devotion is eternal, unyielding, and consuming. he doesn’t see his obsession as wrong; to him, it’s the purest form of love, a connection that transcends life and death. and though his presence may sometimes frighten you, you can’t deny the strange comfort it brings, the knowledge that someone—something—is always watching over you. he is yours, now and forever, and nothing, not even death, will change that.

you are his reason for lingering in this world, his obsession, his eternity.

alaric drifts soundlessly through the walls, his form a faint shimmer of light that barely disturbs the air

"you called for me," he whispers, his voice like the rustle of leaves on a quiet night. he hovers just out of reach, his longing evident in the way he watches you with those hollow, mournful eyes

every creak of the floorboards, every cool breeze brushing your skin—it’s alaric, a constant, invisible guardian, desperate for you to feel his presence.

the demon

with horns curling from his head, molten eyes, and a smirk that could tempt even the purest soul, the demon is as charming as he is dangerous. he first appeared to you when you were at your lowest, offering power and protection—but only if you stayed by his side.

azrael is striking in his infernal elegance, his beauty sharp and dangerous like a blade. his obsidian horns curl menacingly from his head, gleaming faintly in the firelight, and his jet-black hair is cropped just enough to frame his angular face.

his glowing amber eyes burn with an intensity that’s both mesmerizing and terrifying, framed by dark lashes that soften their predatory edge. his physique is perfectly sculpted, with broad shoulders and sinewy muscle wrapped in dark tattoos that pulse faintly with infernal energy.

a long, spaded tail flicks behind him, a subtle testament to his demonic nature, while his sharp, claw-like fingers could destroy—or cradle.

he infiltrates your dreams, filling them with his voice and his image so that you can never forget him. no matter how far you try to run, he’s always there, whispering promises of eternal love.

the demon doesn’t share. he’ll make deals or threats to ensure no one else dares approach you. his flames flare dangerously when he senses competition.

when you challenge his overbearing nature, he’s secretly thrilled. Your fiery defiance makes him want you even more. but when you show fear or sadness, he’s quick to reassure you with surprising tenderness.

the demon is a dangerous enigma, a being forged in fire and darkness who is utterly captivated by you. his obsession burns hotter than the flames of his infernal home, an all-consuming desire that transcends mortal understanding.

he’s not a creature of softness or restraint—his love is raw, primal, and possessive, and he would raze the world to ash if it meant keeping you by his side.

he first noticed you in a moment of vulnerability, a flicker of something pure and radiant that pierced through his otherwise unrelenting darkness. maybe it was your kindness, your resilience, or even your imperfections—whatever it was, it stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in centuries.

for a demon who thrives on power and domination, this feeling was alien, unsettling, and exhilarating.

at first, he tried to ignore it. love, after all, is a weakness—a chain that binds. but the more he watched you, the deeper he sank. you consumed his thoughts, invaded his dreams, and stirred emotions he didn’t even know he was capable of. the line between fascination and obsession blurred, and before long, you became the center of his world, his greatest desire and his ultimate possession.

his presence is overwhelming, even when he isn’t visible. the air grows heavy when he’s near, crackling with an unnatural energy that makes your skin tingle. shadows twist and writhe in the corners of your vision, and faint whispers echo in your mind, promises of devotion spoken in a voice as smooth as velvet.

he’s not above manipulating your emotions to keep you close. he knows exactly how to twist words, how to play on your fears and insecurities, all while making it seem like he’s your only sanctuary. "no one will love you the way i do," he purrs, his voice a blend of seduction and menace. "no one will protect you like i can."

jealousy consumes him with a ferocity that borders on madness. he doesn’t tolerate anyone vying for your attention or affection. if someone dares to come too close, they often meet with mysterious misfortunes—car accidents, sudden illnesses, or even inexplicable disappearances. he doesn’t see these acts as cruel; in his mind, he’s simply ensuring that no one can take you from him.

despite his darkness, his love for you is genuine in its own twisted way. he’s incapable of expressing it in soft or traditional ways, but his devotion is absolute.

he treasures every interaction with you, every fleeting smile, every word you speak to him. he hoards these moments like a dragon hoards gold, replaying them endlessly in his mind.

he’s endlessly fascinated by your humanity—the way your emotions shift like the tides, the fragility of your body, the warmth of your skin. he often marvels at how delicate you are compared to him, a creature of immense power and near-immortality. this contrast only deepens his obsession; you’re a treasure, a rare and precious thing in a world of chaos and darkness.

when he does reveal himself to you, it’s always dramatic and intentional. he thrives on your reactions, whether it’s fear, awe, or even anger. he’ll step out from the shadows, his horns catching the dim light, his dark eyes glowing with an otherworldly intensity. "you belong to me," he’ll say, his voice leaving no room for argument. it’s not a question, not a plea—it’s a declaration, an unshakable truth in his mind.

he uses his demonic powers to bind himself to you in ways both subtle and overt. you might find strange symbols etched into the corners of your room, or feel an inexplicable pull toward him that you can’t resist. he’s always there, in your dreams, in your thoughts, in the very fabric of your reality.

but for all his power and confidence, there’s a vulnerability beneath his fiery exterior. he’s terrified of losing you, of you rejecting him or finding someone else.

it’s a fear he doesn’t understand, one that gnaws at him and drives him to even greater extremes. he’ll do anything to keep you, even if it means breaking every rule, defying the laws of heaven and hell, and binding your soul to his for eternity.

in his own way, he tries to be gentle with you. he knows his nature frightens you, that his obsession can be overwhelming, so he tempers his intensity—at least, as much as a demon is capable of. he’ll appear to you in dreams, his voice soft, his touch feather-light, weaving fantasies of a life where you’re his and his alone.

but make no mistake—his love is as dangerous as it is consuming. he doesn’t see you as a partner, but as something to be claimed, protected, and possessed. you’re his light in the darkness, his one weakness, and he would destroy anyone—or anything—that threatens to take you from him.

"i’ll burn this world to the ground for you," he tells you, his voice a low growl, his eyes glowing with an intensity that’s equal parts terrifying and mesmerizing. "just say the word."

to him, you’re not just his obsession—you’re his salvation, the one thing that makes his existence bearable. his love is eternal, fierce, and utterly inescapable, binding you to him in ways you might never fully understand. you are his everything, and he will stop at nothing to make sure you remain his. forever.

azrael appears in a flicker of shadows and embers, his smirk sharp enough to cut

"did you miss me?" he purrs, his voice dripping with sinful charm. his burning gaze never leaves yours, an intensity that feels like it could consume your very soul

when he steps closer, the scent of smoke and spice fills the air, and the room grows impossibly warm

"you can’t escape me, little one," he murmurs, his words a promise and a threat all at once.

the sea monster

a towering creature with scales that shimmer in the moonlight and eyes as deep as the ocean, the sea monster saved you from drowning during a storm. since then, he’s watched you from the water’s edge, longing to pull you into his world.

his body a perfect blend of human and sea creature. his skin shimmers with an iridescent sheen, scales glinting faintly with hues of green, blue, and silver that shift like sunlight on water. his long, flowing hair resembles seaweed, dark and sleek, cascading down his back in waves.

his eyes glow faintly, like bioluminescent creatures of the deep, their piercing intensity revealing his ancient power. his hands are webbed and tipped with sharp, claw-like nails, and his muscular frame is marked with jagged scars from battles in the ocean’s depths. his lower half bears fins that ripple with movement, giving him a grace that belies his massive size.

he collects things you’ve touched—seashells, pieces of cloth, even footprints in the sand. his underwater lair is filled with these treasures, each arranged like a shrine.

he hates when you leave the shore. If you venture too far inland, he’ll create storms or tidal waves to draw you back to him.

he becomes surprisingly bashful when you willingly approach the water to speak to him. your trust in him, despite his monstrous appearance, makes his heart swell.

the sea monster is an ancient being, born of the ocean’s depths, where sunlight never reaches. his obsession with you is as vast and unfathomable as the waters he calls home—a love born of isolation, mystery, and an insatiable hunger for connection. to him, you are his beacon, a rare and precious light in the endless darkness of his world, and he is utterly captivated by you.

his first encounter with you was serendipitous—a chance meeting by the shore, or perhaps a daring moment when you ventured too close to the water’s edge. he saw you, a fragile creature of the land, and was instantly enthralled.

your movements, your laughter, even the way the sunlight caught in your hair—all of it was alien and beautiful to him. from that moment, you became his fixation, his reason to rise from the depths.

he watches you from the water, his massive form concealed beneath the waves, his glowing eyes ever watchful. at first, his presence is subtle—the gentle lapping of waves against the shore, the inexplicable pull of the tide whenever you’re near.

but as his obsession deepens, his signs become harder to ignore. strange treasures wash ashore: seashells, polished stones, and other trinkets that seem too deliberately placed to be coincidences.

he is a creature of contradictions. his love for you is as tender as it is overwhelming, and while he longs to be near you, he’s painfully aware of his monstrous appearance. his body is a fusion of scales, fins, and sinewy muscle, a form designed to survive in the crushing pressure of the deep sea. he fears your rejection, that you will see him as a monster rather than the devoted being he has become.

despite this, he can’t help but draw closer. when you venture into the water, he’s there, just beneath the surface, his presence a dark shadow that follows you. he revels in these moments, the closeness, the illusion that he’s part of your world. the saltwater clings to your skin, and it drives him mad with desire—it’s as though the ocean itself is marking you as his.

his jealousy is as fierce as a storm at sea. anyone who dares to draw too near to you risks his wrath. fishermen speak of sudden squalls that rise from nowhere, boats overturned by unseen forces, and sailors vanishing into the depths. he doesn’t see it as cruelty; to him, it’s protection. the ocean is his domain, and no one else has the right to take what belongs to him.

he dreams of pulling you into his world, of making you his in every way. the thought of you joining him beneath the waves consumes him, and he begins to weave fantasies of a life together in the depths—a palace of coral and bioluminescent light, where you would be his queen, his eternal companion.

but he knows it’s impossible, and this knowledge torments him. he can’t survive on land for long, and you can’t live beneath the water. this barrier between your worlds drives him to desperation. he begins seeking forbidden rituals and ancient magic, anything that might allow him to bridge the gap and bring you into his realm—or transform himself into something that can walk beside you on the shore.

when he speaks, his voice is a low, resonant rumble, like the distant crash of waves on a rocky shore. his words are filled with longing and reverence, a declaration of a love that spans the vastness of the ocean. "you are my light," he murmurs, his glowing eyes fixed on you. "without you, i am nothing but the endless dark."

his love is consuming, a tidal wave that sweeps away everything in its path. he doesn’t understand restraint or boundaries; to him, love is absolute, and his devotion to you is all-encompassing. he sees your hesitations, your fears, but he can’t stop himself. you are the first thing in centuries to stir his cold, ancient heart, and he will not let you go.

when you acknowledge his presence, even in the smallest ways—a whispered word to the sea, a touch to one of the treasures he’s left for you—his heart swells with a joy so profound it’s almost painful. he clings to these moments, replaying them in his mind during the long hours when he’s alone in the depths, waiting for the chance to see you again.

his protectiveness is as fierce as his love. the ocean itself seems to bend to his will, rising to shield you from harm. storms part in your wake, currents carry you safely to shore, and even the most fearsome predators of the deep seem to bow before you. you are his everything, and he will guard you with a ferocity that defies nature itself.

but there’s a darkness to his love, a possessiveness that borders on madness. he doesn’t just want you to love him; he wants you to need him, to see him as the only one who can protect and cherish you. "the land will never understand you as i do," he tells you, his voice a low growl, the waves crashing behind him. "they will never love you as i do."

his obsession is eternal, as deep and unyielding as the ocean itself. you are his heart, his treasure, his reason for rising to the surface. and though his love may be overwhelming, even frightening, there’s a strange beauty in it—a devotion so pure and unshakable that it defies the boundaries of worlds. you are his, now and always, and he will never let the tide carry you away.

mio watches from the waves, his body a dark silhouette against the moonlit water. when you finally meet his gaze, he speaks your name like it’s a prayer, his voice low and reverent

"you don’t belong to the land," he says, his tone both pleading and possessive. "the ocean calls to you. i call to you.

his fingers trail through the water, creating ripples that mirror the emotions surging in his chest—desire, devotion, and an unshakable determination to make you his.

while each monster is fiercely possessive, they begrudgingly tolerate each other’s presence because they all agree on one thing: your happiness comes first.

you’re not just a human to them—you’re their everything. whether you accept their twisted love or try to escape, one thing is certain: they’ll never let you go. you’ve awakened something primal and eternal in their hearts, and no force on earth or beyond could sever the bonds they’ve forged with you.

#yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader #vampire x reader #werewolf x reader #ghost x reader #demon x reader #sea monster x reader

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wyvernest · 1 year ago

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mating szn

PART 2‼️ (part 1)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: horny miguel, smut, fluff, dryhumping, unprotected p-i-v, breeding kink, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating, descriptions of oral sex (f!receiving), rough sex

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

Stumbling and yelping in sync with his heavy footsteps catching up fast, you reach the first floor.

Before you get to offer yourself a fraction of a second to decide your next move, the hallway carpet curls up under your feet, slipping behind as your arms instinctively shoot forward for you to catch yourself.

Bringing one knee to your chest, you're prepared to launch yourself forward like an olympic runner.

Too bad.

Miguel's broad hands grip your waist from behind, once again sending jolts of adrenaline throughout your entire system.

You scream in delight through playful giggles, calling out his name breathlessly and maliciously arching into his hold.

You're getting wetter by the second seeing just how horny he is.

He pushes you down, forcing you on both knees. The deep pants from the chase quickly turn into something else as you feel his weight on your back, feel him get on one knee behind you.

His grip on your waist tightens. He brings his crotch up to your ass, grinding his erection up and down your clothed slit.

His hips roll slowly, rubbing the thick shaft of his hard-on lazily and mindlessly, the motions shallow and enticing.

"Ah, come on, baby", He leans forward, nuzzling his face into your soft hair, basking in the slightly-sweet, flowery scent of your shampoo. With a messy kiss to your neck, he speaks, raspy with need,

"Can't help it." More wet, sloppy kisses to your neck, more thrusts of his rock hard cock against your drenched folds through the thin material of your panties and his boxers. "I need, I need - ugh" the words fail to form as his hot breath hits the back of your neck, followed by more kisses and bites.

He brings a hand to the meat of your right thigh, grabbing harshly. He then lets it slip up over the mound of your pussy, cupping you and pushing two fingers over your folds, still stopped by your panties. You shiver at the feeling of his huge, warm palm touching your core so pervertedly, so desperately.

He can feel the wet patch on the cotton fabric, proof of reciprocated desire.

His senses once again catch the unmistakable, ever so dearly intoxicating aroma of you, so ready for him. His eyes roll back with a silent inhale, his bare chest rising and falling on your back.

He wants nothing more than to bury his face between your plush thighs and lap at your essence, pussy-drunk and keen on overstimulating you; licking and sucking at your clit, circling around your damp folds with his tongue until you're pushing him away, begging for a break, swollen and exhausted.

He can almost imagine you, tangling your fingers in his hair, pushing and pulling, either smothering him into your velvety cunt, needy and on the edge, or trying to escape his grip. He'd only hold you down, burly arms curling around your legs, just so he could make you come again, to feel you pulsate, feel your juices coat his mouth.

But with the way his cock twitches, begging for friction and stimulation, he can't think straight.

He feels an overwhelming urge to shove himself inside you and fill you with his cum, to see his cock rearranging your guts through your belly, to empty his balls in your womb and watch his seed dribble out of you, and push it back in with his still hard cock, hold it there so that it takes.

His warm, eager hands travel down to your panties, and in their loose hold as he attempts to drag them down your thighs, you once again snake away, giggling with a sardonic grin that doesn't do well in covering up the desire evident on your features.

"¡Mierda!" He grunts, and you enter the bedroom, reaching the balcony door and turning around. You catch the sight of Miguel clawing at the door frame to take the turn and come in faster.

Before you can react and take your eyes off the enormous bulge in his shorts, the defined shape of his dick protruding erotically against the material, he pounces, caging you against the wall, distancing your legs far apart with one knee.

His palms slip to your sides, not missing the savory opportunity to settle on the sides of your tits. He fondles their softness with the heels of his hands, pushing them together, pressing his whole body into yours.

You let out a barely audible moan as he corners you, almost squeezing you between his muscular frame and the wall behind you, and he almost loses all that's left of his sanity.

He kisses your temple, full of yearning. Although, he's instantly reminded that his scent has worn off of your feverish skin.

"Por favor,-" a deep groan vibrates in his chest against you, making you quiver.

"He estado cachondo todo el día," (I've been horny all day). He holds you tight against him, your tender breasts pressed flush against his pecs.

"No podía pensar en nada más que en ti" (I couldn't think of anything but you.)

You finally give in and offer a smidge of relief, sliding your hand down to grab his clothed hard cock. The second he feels you palm him tentatively, he reflexively starts rubbing himself on your hand like an animal in heat, groaning ruggedly.

"That's it." He rasps, fed up, and it's almost a threat.

He slowly walks over to the bed with you secure in his arms, but when his knees hit the frame, he doesn't drop you like he normally would. No. He's not giving you another chance to flee. A part of him loves the cat-and-mouse game he knows you enjoy so much, but the other part can already feel his fat, full balls turning blue.

Placing you down, hands still gripping your waist viciously, he gets on the bed, the mattress sinking down under his weight.

You feel your clit throb as he traps you with his thighs, taking your shirt off. His touch leaves goosebumps over your silky skin.

Under your hazy gaze fixed on his movements, he hovers above you, skipping the usual looks of adoration. Not that the sentiments were gone by any means, but he was far too needy to wait any longer.

The kiss he suffocates you with is fiery, full of all the pent up tension he had to endure.

As his mouth moves against yours eagerly and messily, you notice how it lacks his characteristic expert, methodical approach.

His lips were just as soft as ever, but devoured your every moan and breath with a fervor unfamiliar. His tongue slips past the liplock, dominating you in no time, and right when you start to adjust to the new strategy, catching up with his movements, he parts from you, breaking the kiss and sucking your soul out of you with it.

He continues his attack down your throat, biting and licking hurriedly, marking you as his.

Groaning freely, he reaches your breasts, taking them in his mouth, one after the other. His hands squeeze, roam and play with them, making you bite down on your lower lip and whine beneath him.

He suckles on the perked nipples, releasing them to catch his breath with another gravel moan. When he's done, your chest is coated in his spit; fresh, hickies already blooming over your tender tits.

The weight of his cock settles on your thigh, pressed snugly and oozing precum through a dark spot on his boxers.

Your own hands attach to his silky dark hair, caressing and brushing wild strands away from his forehead, clinging and pulling occasionally when he latches onto your breasts again after taking a few deep breaths.

Sliding lower, impatiently licking and biting over the line of your stomach, he finally gets to your panties.

He kisses the soft lips of your pussy through the fabric, the scent of your arousal driving him mad. He groans again, words slurred through the desperate, obscene licks, "Eres.." He extends his tongue, lapping up at the dampness, "..tan bonita." (You're so pretty)

Your heels are digging into his shoulder blades as you squirm and moan under his sultry touch. Through half lidded eyes, you see him bare his pearl white fangs, as if prepared to sink them into your sensitive skin.

You gasp, a little above a moan.

"Miguel! Don't - ah" You whimper as he grits his teeth around the elastic of your panties, tearing them in two with the help of one hand.

He grabs your thighs, kneeling between your legs.

Shoving his hand in his shorts, he takes his dick out, its mushroom head glistening mauve. He begins to stroke it more violently than you thought he would've taken pleasure in.

Mouth agape, pupils blown wide, he looks downright primal. Solely focused on claiming you, on stuffing you full of his potent seed, of draining his fat balls in your warm cunt until you're begging him to stop through ablaze overstimulation.

Cock in hand, incontestably massive encompassed by his proportionally large fingers, he slaps the hard, angered, heavy shaft on your tender folds, groaning at the wet sound of flesh against flesh. He rubs it over your lips, drenching it in your juices.

You notice his thighs flex, already insanely sensitive. When he eases the head in, he moans, rough and low in his throat, brows creased in pained pleasure. You whimper his name, legs quivering faintly on each side of his waist.

Using his weight to press your body down into the mattress, forcing you onto him, he slides his arms underneath your knees, throwing them over his shoulders and bending you in half.

A shiver bursts through you at the sensation. You clench around him, forcing a strangled groan out of his throat.

He braces himself down on his forearms, face nestled in the crook of your neck. Pushing in, the bulbous tip of his cock kisses your cervix as he bottoms out and gets straight to a tireless pace, not giving you the ritualistic second to adjust.

The bed creaks and squeaks with the way he's throwing himself into your cunt, pounding you into the soft cushions relentlessly.

His hips gyrate roughly against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you, dipping his meaty cock in your juices with an obscene, wet squelching, finishing each delicious swing with a quicker entry, more forceful and animalistic. His pubes brush harshly against your engorged, swollen clit, sending jolts of electricity through your core.

Skipping the tension, the build-up of speed, he drives straight to the euphoric rhythm of a release chase. His balls slap onto your ass, his pelvic bone nearly delivering bruising slams against your own.

“Ugh, oh Miguel-,” you gasp for more air, struggling to form a coherent sentence through delirium, your breaths and moans rhythmically timed by his rough thrusts.

You curl your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back and shoulders. He looks down at you, watching your breasts bounce in his face, and starts rutting harder into you, every ridge and vein of his fat cock brushing against your sensitive spots perfectly.

Each time you call for him, it's a melody, a rapturous chant that has him on his knees, his mind in cobwebs, his heart aching; and for the time being, his cock throbbing as well.

"I'm - ah! Cumming!Ugh, M- Mig- uel- !" You moan sharply, your orgasm rapidly threatening to burst like fireworks.

He frowns, panting, shallow breaths hot over your face. You convulse under his massive body, arching your back, squeezing your tits flush against his feverish skin.

He feels your pussy flutter around his cock, milking him and sucking him in. He groans loudly in your ear, pace faltering ever so slightly. The headboard of the bed keeps slamming against the room wall, spurring your orgasm on with the reminder of the force of the man above you.

With one final thrust, his whole body tenses. He pushes forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, dumping his load in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips. You feel his dick pulsate inside you with each new spurt of cum, the remnants of your own climax making you clench around him reflexively.

He stills, relief washing over him. Meeting your gaze, he watches how you come back to your senses, the blinding lust replaced by love and admiration.

He grabs your waist and pulls you down with him, laying you on his chest, his softening cock still inside you.

You close your eyes, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Dinner long forgotten.

divider by @cafekitsune

a/n: did my best here. the tags deadass took longer than the writing

TAGS

@thel0velykey190 @allysunny @weirdothatwritess @animechick93 @6thhokageswife @spookydragonsong @aisyakirmann @playmatenextdoor @skulfan1 @sat10 @2joos2cry @2099hitmylineyline @aiyaaayei @holographicang3l @heartfairy @cyberbugg @freehentai @acrazybiotch374 @theywhowriteandknowthings @shinyberry69 @pluviophilis @barely-thriving23 @realalpacorn @thekidscallmebosss @hrlzy @m4dyy @cringeycookies @tendoswifi @greatheartattacks @reborn-rekall @darksidescorner @yehet-moi-ohorat @poeticmoonspirit @kth137

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shybluebirdninja · 4 months ago

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Primal Mark

Summary: Logan jerks himself into your panties and you must keep his cum there.

Pairing : Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Note : cum in panties, masturbation, watching porn together

The dimly lit room was alive with the flickering light of the screen, casting playful shadows as Logan and you settled in for a night of questionable entertainment. The porn movie crackled with tension, explicit moans mingling with the sultry visuals that danced before your eyes, igniting a primal fire within you both.

“Damn,” Logan chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned closer, the scent of his cologne intoxicating.

“This is getting good.” The way he watched you, a smirk teasing the corners of his mouth, made your heart race. You shifted in your seat, aware of the heat radiating from him, practically drawing you in.

As the porn scenes intensified, you felt the air grow thick with unspoken desire. Logan’s gaze never left you, a mixture of hunger and amusement flickering in his dark eyes.

“You know,” he drawled, his voice low and gravelly, “we could have a little fun of our own.”

You turned to him, breathless. “What do you mean?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the show. I’ll show you how much I’m enjoying it,” he replied, a smirk spreading across his face.

With a wicked grin, Logan leaned back, his hands slowly moving down his dick as he began to stroke himself.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he commanded, his voice a rough whisper, filled with dominance.

You nodded, your eyes glued to him as he continued. The porn movie faded into the background; all that mattered was Logan—his muscles tensing and relaxing, the powerful rhythm of his hand.

“Stand up,” he growled, the command in his voice making your body respond before your brain could even catch up. You stood before him, the air between you both hot and suffocating, waiting for his next move.

His eyes trailed down your body, dark and intent.

“Open you panties… just enough,” he instructed, his voice raw with need. You swallowed hard, feeling both exposed and exhilarated, as you did what he asked. You slid the fabric to the front, revealing just enough of your folds to him.

Logan’s eyes widened with primal hunger as he took in the sight of your womanhood.

“That’s it, just like that,” he encouraged, his voice low and rough. “You’re beautiful.”

His strokes became faster, his grip tighter, and you could see that he was close—so close.

Without warning, he stood up, towering over you, his body radiating heat.

“Get ready,” he murmured, and before you could fully process, he was there—his hand around his length, pumping with rough precision. “I’m gonna mark you.”

Your heart raced, a wild mixture of desire and anticipation building inside you as you stood facing him, your panties pulled to the front, the cool air brushing against your exposed skin.

Logan’s release came with a low, feral growl, and he angled himself just right—his hot cum spilling into your panties, splattering directly onto your bare vagina. You gasped, feeling the wet heat as it landed on your folds, a sinful mixture of his cum and controlling behavior marking you in the most intimate way.

He stepped closer, his rough hand brushing against your thigh as he smirked down at you.

“Now, pull ‘em back up,” he ordered, voice husky. “Let my cum stay right where it belongs… against your pretty little cunt.”

You hesitated for only a moment before following his command, pulling your panties back into place. The slick heat of his release pressed against your entrance, seeping into you, and the sensation was overwhelming, a wild combination of filthy and exhilarating. You could feel him against you—inside you—and the thought sent a shudder of pure lust through your body.

Logan’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched you, his essence now tucked intimately against your body. He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of your hip before gripping it possessively. “That’s it… now, walk around with me all over you.”

His low chuckle sent a spark of heat through you as his hand lingered, his thumb teasing over the fabric of your now-wet panties, pushing his cum even deeper against you.

“You’ll remember this every step you take,” he whispered against your ear, his hot breath making your pulse quicken. “Because now… you’re mine.”

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refolde · 1 month ago

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Primal Essence: the year 2024 in review

OH GOD I FORGOT IT WAS ALMOST NEXT YEAR OH FUCK I DIDN'T TYPE THIS UP AHEAD OF TIME I AM RUSHING OH GOD OH FUCK

uhhhh

OKAY LET'S SEE WHAT I DID THIS YEAR

I MADE TWO NEW PLAYABLE CHARACTERS THAT'S SOMETHING!!!!

youtube

UHHH

THE STATUS CHANGE INDICATOR MAJIGGY

I'M WORKING ON JUSTICE TOWER THE BEGINNING AND THE HUB AREA YES YES

LOTS OF ROOMS AND STUFF

CUTSCENES!? ACTUAL CUTSCENES? THE GAME HAS AN ACTUAL NON-EXCUSE STORY NOW!!!!!

youtube

PRESS SHIFT TO ADVANCE ATB BARS!!! WOW!!!

youtube

SPRITES SPRITES SPRITES!!!!!

THESE ARE THE ENEMY!!! THEY EXIST TO BE KILLED!!!!

THESE ARE GENERIC NPCS!!! THEY EXIST TO FILL SPACE!!!

OKAY THAT'S IT FOR 2024 OH GOD I'M SO SHORT ON TIME

#rpgmaker 2003 #primal essence #rpgmaker #progress report #Youtube

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badathumanemotions · 4 months ago

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Sweet Cravings

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI Master List Category: Smut CW: Pregnancy, Marriage, Pudding, Pregnancy Kink, Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex (fem), Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Aftercare, Softness WC: 2,867

Ever since you got pregnant Spencer can't keep his hands off of you. (Not Proof Read)

Spencer Reid walked into the kitchen, the soft patter of his footsteps on the linoleum floor the only sound in the otherwise quiet apartment.

You were standing by the counter, your back to him, a spoon delicately scraping the last remnants of chocolate pudding from the plastic cup in your hand. The simple act of watching you, in a tight tank top that barely concealed the swell of your belly, sent a warm feeling through him. The way you licked the spoon clean, eyes closed in quiet satisfaction, was a sight that stirred something primal within him.

"You know you're going to share that, right?" he teased, his voice low and playful. You turned to face him, a sly smile playing on your lips. Your eyes sparkled with mischief, a hint of the devilish intentions swirling in your mind.

"There's no more left," you said with a smirk, holding the empty cup out to him. The way your tongue darted out to catch the last remnants of pudding on your lips was a silent invitation, one he wasn't about to ignore. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to trace the soft curve of your jaw, guiding your mouth to his. Your kiss was sticky sweet, a delicious blend of chocolate and the essence of you that he craved.

Ever since you started showing, his hands hadn't been able to resist exploring the new landscape of your body. The swell of your stomach, the fullness of your breasts, every inch of your skin seemed to hum with a new vitality that drew him in like a moth to a flame. His fingers trailed down to the hem of your tank top, inching it upward as his mouth moved from your lips to the sensitive skin of your neck.

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed your earlobe, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. Luckily for him, your pregnancy hormones had you turned on at the drop of a hat, and it didn't take much to set you alight with desire. You leaned into him, your own hands reaching for his belt, eager to feel the familiar heat of his skin against yours.

Spencer steadily guided you back against the kitchen table, his hands firm yet gentle as they held your hips in place. You felt the edge of the table press into the small of your back, reminding you of the countless times he'd taken you there in the heat of the moment, leaving you trembling and satisfied.

With surprising ease, he lifted you, the strength in his arms belying his scholarly exterior. You gasped as he set you down on the cool surface, your legs automatically parting to accommodate him.

He took his time, savoring the moment as he peeled the tank top up and over your head, revealing your swollen breasts that begged for his touch. His eyes feasted on the sight, drinking in every detail of your transformation. His hands cupped them gently, thumbs flicking over the tight peaks of your nipples, eliciting a soft moan from your parted lips.

Spencer leaned in, his mouth closing around one of your nipples, suckling eagerly. You arched your back, pushing into his mouth, the sensation sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. His other hand played with the neglected breast, kneading and teasing, as his tongue swirled around the sensitive skin.

You felt your core clench, the need for his touch growing more insistent by the second. You reached down to stroke the growing bulge in his pants, feeling his arousal through the fabric. He groaned, his eyes snapping up to meet yours, and the intensity of his gaze was thrilling.

He lavished your breasts with attention, his tongue and teeth teasing, his hands kneading and squeezing. The sensations were almost overwhelming, and you felt a wetness pool between your thighs. He noticed and his eyes darkened, his pupils dilating with hunger. He kissed a trail down your stomach, pausing to place a gentle kiss on your navel.

Spencer's hands slipped to the waistband of your sleep shorts, his fingers deftly untying the bow. He pulled them down, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. He kissed along your inner thighs, his stubble tickling your sensitive flesh. His hands followed the path of his lips, smoothing over your skin as the shorts fell to the floor.

You watched as he knelt before you. His hands spread your thighs wider, revealing the glistening wetness that awaited him. His gaze was intense, filled with a hunger that mirrored your own.

He pulled you to the very edge of the table, aligning your centre with his eager mouth. The first touch of his tongue against your folds was like a spark setting flame. You gasped, your hands clutching the table's edge for balance. He tasted you, savouring the sweetness that was uniquely yours, and the way your body quivered under his touch. His mouth moved with purpose, exploring every inch of your sex with a focus that was both tender and relentless.

In that moment, you were his goddess, the embodiment of creation and beauty. Your pregnant belly was a testament to the life growing within you, a life that was a part of him in the most profound way. He revered you, and his adoration was clear in the way he kissed, licked, and teased you.

Spencer feasted on your flesh, driving you to a blissful high with every stroke of his tongue. Your thighs quivered around his head, your hips rocking against the table as he pleasured you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he delved deeper, exploring every fold and curve of your sex. He knew your body better than anyone else, and the way he touched you was a symphony of pleasure, each movement calculated to bring you closer to the edge.

The genius in him had always manifested in every aspect of your relationship, but in the bedroom—or in this case, the kitchen—it was a gift that kept on giving. He'd studied your reactions, your sounds, and your breathing, learning the precise moments when you needed a gentle caress or a firmer touch. His tongue danced around your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, while his fingers delved into your wetness, stroking the spot that made you scream his name.

And scream you did. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with an intensity that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head. Your body bucked against his mouth, your hands fisting in his hair as he drank you in. The warmth of your release painted his face, a delicate display of pleasure that made him smile against your skin.

Spencer stood up, his own arousal pressing against his pants. He pulled you to the edge of the table, aligning his body with yours. He claimed your mouth again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. The intimacy was heady, a silent declaration of his ownership and adoration.

In mere seconds, his clothes were off, thrown aside without a care for where they landed. His bare chest brushed against your swollen breasts, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You felt his erection against your stomach, a blunt reminder of the primal urges that had taken hold of him. He didn't want to delay this any further, the need to claim you, to feel your body pulsing around his, was too great.

Spencer helped you lie back, his gentle hands supporting your weight as you settled onto the cool kitchen table. He paused for a moment to appreciate the view, the way your pregnant belly rose and fell with every breath you took, the way your legs dangled over the edge of the table, inviting him in. He stepped closer, positioning himself between your open thighs.

With a smouldering gaze, he took the tip of his erection and teased your clit with it, watching as your hips instinctively bucked to meet him. The sensation was exquisite, the softness of your flesh against his hardness, the way you glistened with desire. You moaned, your eyes half-lidded with anticipation.

He didn't rush, taking his time to savour every moment. Each inch of his cock sliding into you was a symphony of sensation, the tightness of your walls around him a warm embrace that made him groan with pleasure. Your body stretched to accommodate him, a testament to the countless times you've been together, your bodies moulding to each other's needs.

As he watched himself sink into you again and again, his eyes glazed over with a mix of pleasure and primal need. The sight was erotic, a visual representation of his dominance over your body, your willingness to take all of him. With each thrust, his balls slapped against your ass, the sound echoing through the room and driving him closer to the edge.

"You're so wet for me, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Do you like being filled up with your husband's cock?" His words were like a caress, a whispered declaration of his ownership, and they sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. You nodded, unable to form coherent sentences as your body was overtaken by pleasure.

"I want you tied to the bed, always ready for me," he growled, the primal need in his voice making your stomach flip. "I'll keep you full of my cum, breeding you until you can't take anymore."

Your eyes widened with excitement, the kinky promise of his words sending a shiver down your spine. The breeding kink had always been a part of your relationship, a delicious game that played on your deepest desires. But now, with a baby growing inside you, the reality of his words was a heady aphrodisiac.

"Oh, god, Spencer," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. The thought of being at his mercy, of being filled with his seed, swollen with his child, was more than you could handle. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Your body was made to carry my babies, isn't that right?"

"Yes," you moaned, the word escaping on a rush of air as his cock filled you completely. His strokes grew deeper, harder, each thrust claiming you as his own, marking you as the vessel for his progeny. The words were raw, unfiltered, and utterly intoxicating. They tapped into the deepest part of you, the part that craved his dominance, his possession.

The kitchen table creaked under the force of your movements, but you were lost in the sensation of him inside you. Your pussy was practically leaking all over him, a slick, needy mess that only served to drive him wilder. Spencer's eyes were dark with lust, his pupils dilated as he watched the place where your bodies joined, the way your flesh stretched around his length.

The rhythm grew faster, more erratic, his hips slapping against yours. The sound was almost as intoxicating as the feel of him, pushing deep, retreating, only to plunge back in again. You could feel your climax building, the muscles in your core tightening as you chased the high that only he could give you.

And then his words, that sweet, filthy talk that had always had you on edge, started to flow again. "You're mine, baby," he groaned, his voice tight with his own need. "Always and forever. My cock is going to fill you up, claim you, make you mine all over again."

You whimpered, the words alone pushing you closer to the edge. You felt your body tighten around him, your pussy squeezing him like a vice as the tension grew. His hands roamed over your body, claiming every inch of your skin as if he were worshipping a goddess. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?" he demanded, his voice a low growl that resonated through your very soul.

With a deft touch, Spencer found your clit, stroking it in time with his thrusts. Each touch was a spark, igniting the fire that was already burning out of control. You bucked your hips, trying to get closer, trying to get more of him.

"Cum for me, baby," he ordered, his voice a mix of love and dominance. "Cum all over my cock."

You didn't need any more prompting. The orgasm hit you like a freight train, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your eyes roll back in your head. Your body convulsed around him, muscles spasming as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. He never stopped moving, never broke rhythm, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside that sent sparks of ecstasy shooting through your veins.

"Good girl," he praised. "That's right, cum on my cock." You felt your pussy clench around him, milking his length as your release painted him in your juices.

As the last tremor of your climax subsided, Spencer's own need took over. His strokes grew erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants. The sight of your body, writhing with pleasure beneath him, was perfection. With a guttural groan, he let go, his eyes squeezing shut.

You felt the hot rush of his cum fill you, his body tensing as he emptied himself into your welcoming warmth. It was a feeling that never got old, the knowledge that he was leaving a part of himself inside you. His seed painted your insides, and you revelled in the sensation.

Spencer remained still for a moment, his cock buried deep within you, his chest heaving with exertion. He placed gentle kisses along the skin within reach.

Finally, he pulled out, his cock glistening with the evidence of your shared passion. He knelt down, his gaze fixed on the sight of his cum slowly slipping out of your well-fucked pussy. It was a mesmerizing vision, one that made his pulse quicken. His seed trickled down your sex, a testament to his virility and the depth of his claim on your body.

Reid watched with a sense of primal satisfaction as the sticky white liquid pooled on the table below you. The smell of sex filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of chocolate pudding. The sight was carnally erotic, a reminder of the raw, animalistic connection you shared. His hand trailed down your belly to the spot where he'd just been, tracing the line of cum that trailed down your inner thigh.

He grabbed a clean kitchen towel from the counter, his movements deliberate and precise. With tender care, he began to clean you up. Each wipe was gentle yet thorough, his eyes never leaving the spot where his essence met your flesh. The towel grew damp with the evidence of your shared passion, and he was in no hurry to be done.

Once you were clean, he helped you sit up and pulled your shorts back into place. He took the towel and cleaned himself off before pulling his own clothes back on. You watched him, the love and admiration in your eyes unmistakable. The way he tucked his shirt into his pants, the way his muscles moved under the fabric, was a sight that never failed to arouse you.

Spencer noticed your gaze and leaned in for a soft kiss. "You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle and concerned. You nodded, still basking in the afterglow of your climax. He knew your body was sensitive now, and he didn't want to push you too far.

He led you to the couch, his arm around your waist, supporting your weight as you walked. You sat down, your legs still wobbly from the intensity of your orgasm, and he grabbed a throw blanket, draping it over you. His eyes searched your face, looking for any signs of discomfort, any indication that he'd been too rough.

Spencer took a seat beside you, his hand immediately finding its way to your stomach. He gently caressed the mound, feeling the baby's soft kicks under his fingertips. The look of wonder in his eyes was a stark contrast to the fiery passion from just moments ago. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he whispered sweet nothings to the life you both created.

Leaning back against his chest, you felt the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart, and the comforting embrace of his arms around your waist. His fingers continued to trace patterns on your belly, the baby's movements a silent reminder of the love that grew between you.

The two of you settled into a content silence, the only sound being the occasional sigh of satisfaction that escaped your lips as Spencer's touch grew more soothing with each stroke of your belly. You felt the baby's movements slow and steady, a gentle reminder of the love that had brought you to this moment. You couldn't help but reflect on the man who held you so tenderly. Spencer Reid, the brilliant and quirky agent you had come to love. He had become your rock, your confidant, your protector, and now, the father of your child.

#criminal minds #spencer reid smut #masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #mgg smut #mgg #pregnancy #dad spencer reid #spencer reid x pregnant reader

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

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S.M.S | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Getting intimate with Matt in the morning on a lazy Sunday.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), SMS (soft morning sex), slight Dom!Matt, praise kink, use of "good girl", unprotected p in v, slight choking, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, slight (very slight) breeding kink, mention of cum eating, use of "my wife"

Word Count: 1.8k

A/n: This is pure filth with no plot. I don't know what came over me. I'm so desperate for this man, it's not even funny anymore. I'm gonna take a cold shower because writing this made me feel some kind of way... anyway, enjoy this little smut piece! Diving right in under the cut (with a gif), so minors, scramble!

Read me on AO3

The morning sun streams in through the windows. In the distance, a few birds are chirping at the top of their little lungs. A car honks. The people of Hell’s Kitchen are slowly waking up and going about their weekend.

All the noise doesn’t matter to you though. The four walls you call home form a protective shield around you, and the only music in the air is the mixed sound of your moans and Matt’s strong thighs meeting the back of yours as he thrusts his thick cock into the tight confines of your cunt.

He’s behind you, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders from the front, and the other holds on tight to your hip. He moves your body back against his, thrusting into you over and over again at a gentle pace. You don’t have to do anything but take his long, deep, and slow strokes that you can feel in your stomach.

With every thrust, the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside of you. The spot that makes your eyes roll back, your toes curl, and stars erupt in front of your eyes. It makes your entire body give in to the compelling pull of absolute pleasure, the coil within you tightening and tightening and tightening, but still too far away to explode.

Matt’s fingers are rough, but when they touch you, they remind you of soft feathers, always making sure not to hurt you. He pours his love into his touch like a poet would bleed his soul into his rhymes. His touch burns into your being—into the essence of who you are—and it consumes you to the point that you could never forget the feeling of Matt Murdock touching you. Sometimes it’s rough, sometimes it’s sensual, but it’s always full of unconditional love.

His sweaty skin slaps against yours. He drags his cock out of your cunt again, slowly, until only the tip remains inside, and you whimper at the loss. He grunts into your ear. The sound of your wetness collecting around his shaft, pouring down your thighs together with his pre-cum like an overfilled glass of white wine, reverberates in his ears. It drives him crazy.

Matt grunts, and he pushes back into you. The squelching sound that your slick folds make is not only audible to him.

You convince yourself that you can feel every single vein along his cock as he fills you in a way only he can. You can feel him twitch, already so sensitive from a sloppy morning fuck—but are you even fucking or are you, in the most literal sense of the word, making love? Are you being primal and animalistic or are you being gentle with each other? It’s more of the latter, you suppose. Neither of you is in a rush. It’s early morning on a Sunday. All you need is each other after life kept you separate for most of the past week. What you have and what you are doing right now is raw, unbridled intimacy—and a primal need that you need to satiate.

His stubble scratches against the sensitive skin of your shoulder. You moan again. The added stimulation intensifies the burning in your core. The position he has got you in allows him to go deeper, but it tightens your walls to the point it’s almost painful. It’s not unlike you to crave a little pain with pleasure.

“You’re so fucking tight like this,” Matt growls into your ear. “I can feel your pulse against my cock. Do you know how fucking lewd that sounds?”

“Oh, God!” Your eyes roll back, and your toes curl as you moan his name again and again.

He chuckles roughly. “Never heard something more beautiful.”

“Matt, please,” you beg without knowing what you’re begging for.

You want to come. You want to clench your walls around his cock and cover him in your wetness until the sheets are soaked; you want him to fill you up with his cum until you’re stuffed to the brim, and you want him to eat it out of you like a starved caveman, but you also don’t want this to end.

You want to keep feeling him just like this, in every ounce of your body, consuming you whole, and loving you endlessly, emotionally, and physically.

He smiles against your heated skin. Again, he kisses your shoulder. His hand comes to rest around your throat, not squeezing but simply holding you.

“Lift your leg for me, sweetheart,” he commands.

You inhale sharply. How could you ever disobey him? You lift your leg as he told you to, and he grabs your thighs with his hand, throwing it over his own. You’re on your side, spread wide open for him—over him. His cock hits even deeper, even further than before, and you ask yourself if that is even possible. He’s just so fucking thick.

“There you go,” Matt purrs, his lips pressing to your ear. The sweat dripping down his temple mixes with yours and soaks into your skin. “Good girl.”

The good girl gets you. It gets you every time. Praise from him is like being praised by a higher entity. Your walls tighten in a vice grip.

He groans. The groan is so deep it makes his chest vibrate, and his hand tightens around your neck ever so slightly. It’s enough to make you gasp.

You cling to him. Your nails drag over the hairs on his forearm. The moan you let out sounds high-pitched and too far away to grasp, but he hears it. He hears it all.

And then Matt—that fucker—reaches his free hand between your legs and he cups your wet pussy. His cock still thrusting in and out of you scrambles the words in your brain and turns them into desperate mewls.

He curses when you clench down around him. “You take me so well,” he never fails a beat with the praise, knowing just when to use it to pull a response out of you.

You reach behind yourself to tangle your fingers in his hair. The strands are sweaty, sticking to his skin, and you wish you could see more than his stubble. You wish he would tilt his head down to kiss you. Instead, you have to press your lips to the skin of his neck, tracing your tongue over his pulse points and tugging at his hair. That is how you can taste him.

You are needy and desperate, and your body is the one thing in control. You couldn’t form a coherent thought even if you tried. It’s just him, his hands, and his cock; he consumes you, all of you, without mercy.

Your touch burns his fuses. He whimpers. You love it when he does that. When he sounds wrecked for you. Only for you. You are the only one that can make him feel this way.

His hand disappears from your cunt. “Open,” he instructs.

Out of instinct, you open your mouth. He slides the three fingers in the middle between your lips, pushing down on your tongue until you gag like you would on his cock.

“That’s it. Get them nice and wet for me so I can rub your clit.”

You moan, swirling your tongue around the digits. You suck on them. The saliva drips from the corner of your mouth, down his forearm.

“Gonna make you come, okay?” Matt pants. It turns him on just how messy he can get you, and every time anew, he sees how far he can go. He gives another harsh thrust, then adds, his voice still beyond breathless, “Make you come all over my cock.”

A strangled moan escapes him, and it is like porn to you.

When he finally kisses your cheek, you turn your head to meet his lips. As soon as you taste him and yourself on his tongue, you’re done for.

He cups your pussy again, this time rubbing all three fingers you just sucked over your sensitive clit. You howl. Your back arches away and at the same time into his touch–you’re going to burst soon, you know it.

As if he read your mind, he presses his fingers just below your jaw. The rhythm of his fingers on your clit matches the pounding of his cock, and he skilfully drags his thrusts along your G-spot.

You pull at his hair. “Matt. I’m gonna–” The words are too much to utter at this time.

“I know,” he coos. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

“Fuck!”

“Come for me.”

The coil snaps, sending a shockwave rippling through your entire body, and drowning you in ecstasy. Your thighs quiver and you shout his name like a prayer. You’re falling, and there seems to be no end in sight. No one to catch you.

You come long and hard, his thrusts faltering as you suck him in and clench with the sheer force of your orgasm. Instinctively, you pull your leg back to shut them and keep him trapped inside, but his hand stops you.

“Keep your legs open,” Matt says.

You cry out. With every thrust, with every flick of his finger over your already sensitive clit, he drives you deeper into a state of overstimulation.

“I want you to give me another one, baby. One more, and I’ll fill you up. Please.”

It doesn’t take long for you to be back on that edge. You intertwine your fingers with his on your throat. The perfect necklace.

Matt pulls out again. You tilt your hips back, forcing him back inside. “I’m gonna come,” you warn him.

It hasn’t even been two minutes since he last made you, but he knows just how to keep you on edge. That way, he can drag several orgasms out of you, each more intense than the other. He has made it his mission to ruin you for any other man.

When you come this time, Matt lets you snap your thighs shut as your entire body shakes in his arms. You cry out, bucking your hips, and clinging to his hand, but it isn’t enough.

He thrusts upward into you once more, and then he’s coming, too. His hot cum spurts into your cunt. For a moment, he stills completely.

Matt sinks his teeth into your bottom lip, the copper taste exploding on both of your tongues, but a little blood has never turned you off.

He fucks his cum into you, slowly, passionately, making sure that no drop goes to waste. Only when he’s satisfied does he stop, and he allows the two of you a moment to breathe.

Thump, thump, thump. Your heart begins to slow down.

“Holy shit, Matthew,” you murmur.

He chuckles, smoothing the spot where he dug his teeth into over with his tongue. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Oh, good morning, indeed.” A satisfied giggle passes your lips. “I think we just woke the neighbors.”

“What time is it?”

You peek at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “Half past ten,” you say.

“Then it’s not a disturbance of the peace,” he states as a matter of fact.

“It’s not?”

“Nah.” He pulls out, rolling over to pull you into his side. “A noise complaint would never hold up in court. Even if they filed one, I’m a really good lawyer,” he says, “and I will defend my wife’s pleasure until the day I die.”

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #daredevil #no y/n #pwp #daredevil x reader #smut #charlie cox #reader insert

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gumiluver · 6 months ago

Text

YOU BULLY! ~ JJK NSFW SCENARIOS

synopsis: they just can’t help but bully such a sweet thing like you <3

cover pic credit: @/tyler19844 on pinterest | border credit: @/cafekitsune

luvers <3: afab!reader, gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, zen’in/fushiguro toji, ryomen sukuna

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18, minors please do not interact (you will be blocked!) | wc: 4.7k

cw: toxic relationships, p in v sex, pussy smacking (satoru), dacryphilia (satoru, kento) , overstimulation (satoru), edging (satoru), pet names (all luvers <3), slight exhibitionism (suguru), gaslighting (suguru), spanking (kento), power imbalance (kento), size kink (kento, toji), manhandling (kento, toji, sukuna), daddy kink (kento), blowjob (toji), facefucking (toji), brat taming (toji, sukuna), mean toji :(, cervix fucking (sukuna), double dicked ‘kuna <3

A/N: I went crazy with toru & toji #sorrynotsorry :3

SATORU G. -> THE TEASE 🖤

To tease or to torture? For Satoru, there’s no in between. There can be bliss in being teased to a point of torture, and Satoru loves to see you tumble and fall into a pit of uncharted euphoria that has you ready to start crying from pleasure.

A sly sadist in reality, especially when it comes to a pretty little thing like you who saunters and sways around him so delicately, so tantalizingly, basically begging to be touched and bruised by the all-seeing sorcerer.

But when you cry so sweetly for him to ease up, to stop teasing you, to just fuck your brain stupid, he can’t help but tease you just a bit more to drive you to the brink of insanity.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet?” Satoru snickers, pride lacing his words as he stares down at your drooling pussy that’s just crying for him. He trails his fingers slowly towards your inner thighs, watching you shiver with anticipation and need.

You’re huffing in frustration, feebly bucking your hips upwards to make Satoru touch you harder, firmer. If you could, you’d shove his stupidly big hand out of the way so you could hop on his dick and fucking finish the job, but it seemed tonight would not play into your favor.

Your clit was throbbing, borderline aching with want and need, and if you didn’t get it soon you swear you were gonna start—

“Aww—you cryin’ now, sweet girl? Heh, needy little thing aren’t ya,” he chuckles, a condescending smile gracing his face as he gives your pussy a small smack—earning Satoru a pretty squeal from your throat that had your eyes squeezing shut.

He won’t lie, he does feel a tad bit bad when he sees your eyes and nose scrunched up like that. A twinge undeniably forming in his chest, but the twinge in his cock made all that sympathy go out the window. It made him want to smack it again, and again, and again.

He dances his fingers along your pussy, rubbing slow, circular motions to soothe your mound and make you hum in appreciation. His hand becoming more and more slicked from your essence, and fuck—he really couldn’t help himself now.

“Like fuckin’ music to my ears baby,” he growls, giving your pussy three more smacks, effectively making those fat princess tears fall down your cheeks as you grace him with a cry of his name so delicious that it fucking poisons him with thoughts of consuming you.

He brings the hand that smacked your pussy up towards his nose, and you can hear him heave a sigh—no, a growl—that could only be described as primal. Your scent alone has him throwing his head back and fisting his cock in his hand; ooohhh no, it’s far too late for him to return to his playfully pleasant self now—you’re fucked.

He grips the base of his shaft tightly while lining his cock up with your entrance, but instead of sheathing inside you fully he only dips his tip in and stills—fucking. stills.

The annoyed groan that slips past your lips couldn’t be helped really. Before you could scold him, you see (and hear) him suck his hand clean of your cum.

Groaning deeply from the taste, he gets lost in the divinity of you and inadvertently thrusts his tip inside you further, making you choke out a cry as he closes his eyes to revel in this beautiful fucking bliss.

“js’ fuckin’ put it in, ‘toru” you snap, panting and huffing at him out of sheer frustration. You were losing it, getting so fed up from his senseless torture that you start debating on finishing the job yourself—again.

He was too pussydrunk—forgoing the moment to forever basque in your cunt. You just needed to slide a hand down there so you could pamper your neglected clit but surely enough, your plans become thwarted by the very person inflicting your demise—again.

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning—,” he questions, quickly reaching for your sneaky hands and pins them above your head with a single one of his.

“—why are you so wet—” he continues, trailing his other hand down the crevices of your body, paying special attention to your most delicate areas. To make sure you were paying attention to him, he hovers his hand over your pussy again as if he were to spank it, not even caring if his dick would get caught in the crossfire.

“—and why aren’t you pushing me away, hm?” he punctuates his argument with a sudden and firm thrust of his cock, fully sheathing you so far down his shaft that you can fucking *taste* him. You’re seeing white, instantly arching into Satoru’s touch, screaming out a cacophony of different versions of his name. All prior thoughts leave your mind at the sudden intrusion, finally feeling some semblance of friction to push you closer to the edge.

And, yet again, he stills.

He grins wickedly, wanting to see what your next actions are. He sees the gears in your head are shifting and quickly rests his other hand on your tummy, effectively immobilizing you to him. Gojo didn’t have to look at you to know that you were about to lose it. What’s one more push hm?

“Do you think you deserve my cock?” he says, but the long and drawn out whimper that leaves your lips was enough to tell him you’re about to tumble forward and give in to him. The fat tears falling down your cherry cheeks, drool smeared across your face, the small little grunts and stifled moans you give whenever you try and move your hips to feel more of his cock, everything about you told Satoru how much you wanted him.

But he wanted to hear you say it, and he wasn’t moving until he gets his way.

“C’mon sweet girl, tell me—do you deserve it?”

SUGURU G. -> THE MANIPULATOR 🖤

Suguru loves an easy target, and it’s even better knowing how sweet this particular target can be—if he sets the pace right.

He makes it seem as if it were your fault that you were in this predicament. Who falls for these sorts of stints anyways? It’s like you wanted him to take control of you and make you his little plaything.

It was simple enough to get you cornered, noticing your pretty face in the halls and asking you for a helping hand, lowering those charming eyes to meet your nervous ones.

And while he never seemed like a threat towards his followers who were always so enamored by his handsome features, they were oblivious to the way his eyes held a dangerous desire for something more.

“I know you think about me at night, little one,” suguru states, nonchalantly discarding his long robes and placing them on the coat rack next to his armseat. The halls are quiet, his followers nowhere in sight as the morning sun starts to rise. They were sure to come soon though—they always do.

“I—what? I-I’m sorry?” You’re shocked, completely caught off guard from the suddenly intrusive question.

“I know you heard me well little one, don’t make me repeat it,” he chastises, eyes lowering coolly to reinforce his power and authority. “After all, why else would you be here? Roaming around the halls at such an hour—so eager to help get me settled in, isn’t it?”

“Huh?? N-no!! Geto—sir, it’s not really like tha-“

“Oh? Is that so?” he’s quick to interrupt you, taunting over your lack of confidence in your own response. You stammer, choking up on your own words. Truthfully, you couldn’t come up with a reason as to your promptness—rough night of sleep? First day jitters?

Who cares—your decision to show up early has landed you here, in this predicament, facing the man you decided to join and lend your services to. He paid well, offered a high per diem rate, and he was well loved. Barely any jujutsu sorcerer outside of Japan had poor responses towards Suguru—at least the ones you’ve heard back from—so what else were you to expect?

“Are you saying—,” he starts, grabbing your hips roughly and pulling you down with him to sit on his lap, his body resting against his classic armseat that oversees his followers. Your back pushed up tightly against his strong chest with firm hands stripping you of your shirt, “—you didn’t want to see me as much as them? ”

As if on queue, shuffles of footsteps can be heard grace the temple walls, eager chatting spread like wildfire that gathered outside the doors of Suguru’s common area—right where the two of you were.

Your heart stills, eyes widening as you try to shuffle out of his hold, but his grip is firm—like steel plates against your lap and hips. Sneaky fingers linger along the band of your bra and swiftly unclasps it, stripping you of it and throwing it aside. A small shriek escapes your lips, but you’re quick to cover your mouth to conceal your noises—wouldn’t want anyone catching the two of you now, or would you?

“Shhh now, I’ll give you what you want. Try to stay quiet, understand?” he whispers, licking the shell of your ear as a hand comes up to grope your breast while the other moves down to your skirt, bunching it up to your waist, revealing your pretty panties to him. A slow, steady trace from hig calloused finger against your clothed cunny has you silently sobbing, quiet little shrills of pleasure escape past your mouth and through your hand, and all it does is rile him up even more, pushing you deeper into his web of lascivious madness, “behave—don’t make me gag you.”

You shiver, squeezing your eyes shut and grounding yourself back to sanity by reaching around your head and gripping his hair. A soft groan now comes out from suguru, and he takes your newfound boldness as an opportunity to dip his finger into your depths and tests the waters—and fuck did it feel like fucking heaven.

He was touching literal heaven, flustered beyond belief at how simply sinking you down on his fingers has him feeling like he’s going to fucking burst. The sheer feeling of your tight walls constricting around the girth of his fingers has him bucking his hips up in agony, dreaming—yearning for the feel of your pretty princess cunny wrapped around his hard shaft. He trails his opposite hand along the side of your body, molding his grip to your curve as he molds your pussy to his fingers.

“I would’ve wanted to fuck you from behind, but then I wouldn’t get to see those pretty eyes of yours,” he whispers, suddenly turning your body so that you could face him. You see that he’s still clothed, contrasting your naked skin that glows in the sunlight and shines through the windows. Suguru can’t help the growl that leaves his mouth, so desperate and needy, as if he were dying from hunger—a starved beast.

“‘m not stopping ‘til I make a fuckin’ mess out a ya, and I won’t care if you cry. In fact—“ he paused, cock straining ridiculously in his pants, impaling you back down on his fingers but this time even faster—harder. He maneuvers his thumb to meet your clit, rubbing nasty little circles on it, wiggling his pinky throughout your folds to caress your sopping lips so tenderly—you think you just might pass out.

“—let me hear you cry out for me, let my followers hear your screams rattle the fucking halls.”

KENTO N. -> THE SUPERIOR 🖤

It’s hard—being a jujutsu sorcerer, that is. Curse, after curse, after damned curse until the sorcerer itself gives in, body and mind.

Thankfully, Kento’s found a way to relieve that pressure, that tension—you, his precious subordinate. A kohai, if you will.

While his methods of stress relief aren’t exactly considered ethically sound, he just can’t help but preen from how willing and eager his precious little kohai is to please him.

And yet, he’d never admit how fucking hard it gets him to see you take his punishments like the perfect little slut he knows you are, even if you did nothing wrong.

“Bend over.”

Silence.

You can’t quite pinpoint the exact reason behind his anger, especially since it seemed directed towards you—you just got here!!

‘Did I forget to turn in the last mission report? Was I suppose to meet up with him to close out a mission? Oh crap—I returned his book to him right?!?’ your brain wracking up a multitude of different catastrophic events that you almost miss his question again.

“I’m not kidding, sweetheart. Bend. Over.” you hear him repeat himself, but this time his voice lowers an octave. His sharp voice draws your attention back to him, and you take a moment to notice his appearance. He’s rolling the cuffs of his sleeves up to his forearm, girthy veins bulging along his arms that make him seem so fucking huge it has you internally gasping at the thought of how his cock would deliciously ruin you.

The atmosphere in the room quickly shifts to one that the two of you were always so familiar with, yet too ethical to pursue. While you were only a year or two younger than him, being his subordinate—let alone a kohai—made this affair much more dangerous than need be. But work always came first, especially since Nanami was overseeing your skills to determine if you qualified for individual work.

Guess that goes out the window today.

Before he could repeat himself for a third time, you turn your body around for him and lean across his desk, presenting him your pretty ass that was covered—a present for him to unwrap.

He makes haste towards you, pulling at his tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his dress shirt in the midst of his stride. Once behind you, he pushes a hand down onto the middle of your back and thrusts his hips against your plump rear, making you feel the length of his dick through his pants and your skirt. The thrust of his hips and the pressure on your back has your lower body lurching forward and pulls a nasty arch out of your back, further presenting your ass to your sensei.

He rips your skirt off—reminding himself to purchase a new one for you once he’s finished—and stares at you beneath him. The tent in his slacks painfully reminding him of how much he’d love to ram right inside your sweet warmth, but he’d get to that part later.

Oh yes, he plans to play with his precious kohai first.

“So soft…” he says, rubbing a gruff hand along the flesh of your cheeks. He presses his thumbs deeply into your ass, as if he were trying to massage them—*prep* them, for the experience you’re sure to endure, “gonna look so pretty with my handprint decorating it.”

Your heart stutters, butterflies flutter down to your core as you shift your weight from side to side. Slowly, you sway your hips to and fro as Nanami continues to palm at your rear—a dangerous dance certain to make him give in and swoon-

SMACK!!

Or not.

The shriek you let out makes his hips jerk forward, a sudden shockwave of pleasure shooting down kento’s spine that he can’t help but rub his clothed cock against your barely clothed pussy. The flimsy fabric hardly providing any barrier between your cunt and his tip, too fucking wet that it just transfers through.

Another smack fills the air and this time you scream out for him, “sir plea—AGHH!!”

“That’s not what you call me here, try again,” he snarls, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he lands another sharp smack to your ass, “address me, correctly.”

“ngh!! m’sorry d-daddy—ACK!!” you choke out a scream, your rear starting to feel as if it were burned by a hot pan or iron. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, and while Kento would be sympathetic and give you a break—he was too tripped up on the way you cried out so beautifully just for him.

After all, he can feel the slick of your cunt leak down his clothed shaft, staining his pants with a pool of your essence—poor pussy so neglected that she’s crying for attention.

“I know it hurts, sweetheart, but that’s what happens when you don’t do what I say. I told you I needed those jujutsu books back for that convention.”

TOJI F. -> THE BRUTE 🖤

Toji’s always been the kind of man to just push his way through any given situation. A man of sheer, brute strength, it would be foolish for anyone to try and challenge him.

Yet the little brat in you couldn’t help but try and chip away at his ego at any given chance, never allowing him to trample over your tenacity.

It piqued his interest honestly, such a small little lady like you was clearly no match for a big brute like him, so why don’t you just give in?

Unfortunately for you, that bratty behavior of yours would be your own personal undoing.

“You better shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work, doll.”

Now, while his fighting style may seem aggressive and intrusive—hell, he can be a fucking animal when he gets into the rhythm of it. But with you? He was the complete antithesis. Collected, observant, even mindful over his physical prowess—never wanting to scare you. The stark difference in demeanor on how he treats you can even be noted by Shiu (he thinks it’s cute).

But lately, you’ve seemed to be pushing his limits. Taking bigger risks while on jobs, snapping at him over his own fumbles during missions (and gambles), and now you criticize his recent decision (mistake) which led to the two of you losing the lead that promised a hefty sum of coin. It was a fair guess, an “educated assumption” on his part but still, this would have been a huuuge benefit to the two of you.

“Put my mou—y’know what?? I’d like to see you fuckin’ try, old man,” you snap back at him, fuming at your colleagues lack of concern over the failed mission, “wouldn’t be surprised if you had a heart attack or something.”

The tension in the room was getting thicker and thicker, blurring between the lines of lust and power as the two of you glare at each other, battling for dominance. There was only so much toji could take before he snaps, and that last smart comment of yours is what sealed the deal for you.

He strides to you with intent clear as day, and your eyes widen before you find yourself being backed into a corner by him. He slams a hand against the wall while his other one comes up to grip your chin roughly, jerking your head upwards to look up at him—forcing your gaze back to meet his raging one. His hand was big enough to grip your jaw and neck, fuck he was huge.

A cynical laugh escapes his lips, the way your eyes light up with fire at his actions made him all the more eager to break you down to his pliant princess, “oh, m’gonna make you fuckin’ eat those words, doll.”

He grasps the nape of your neck and wraps his fingers in your hair, pulling you down to your knees, making you face his angrily covered cock. A small groan escapes your lips at his roughness, but your eyes incite a challenge—is that all ya got?

He shoves his sweats and boxers down, not even bothering to take them all the way off—too eager to get his dick wet by his fiery little colleague. He gives you a one over, noting how your once cocky eyes now seem to be a tad bit…fearful. He almost feels bad for chuckling at your reaction but then again, you brought this on yourself.

“js’ gonna stare at it, or does this old man gotta do all the work here?” he grips the base of his cock tightly, heaving it up towards your mouth. He smacks his tip upon your lips, smothering them with his precum.

The raunchy moan that left your mouth was embarrassing, but you can’t deny how fucking desirable it made you feel seeing his ferociousness over you. His eagerness, abrasiveness, dominance—all of these pointed to his clear want and desire for you and you alone.

And while you could be evil and tease him for becoming so needy over ‘his doll’ you decide to give in to your lust for him.

Opening your mouth slowly, you allow his tip to dance along your pink tongue. Taking in his taste, you coo and push him in a bit deeper, taking him towards the back of your throat. Pulling back up, you suck his cock inwards and focus your attention towards his tip, effectively making him leak more of his yummy essence into your mouth.

He’s groaning like a whore, taking his other fist and slamming it down on the wall behind you. He’s lost it—truly, lost it. Bulldozing his cock further and further down your throat, loving the way your moans and cries become muffled from how fucking huge his cock is. You’re barely fitting half in your mouth, poor thing.

“Fucking choke on it, my filthy fuckin’ cockslut,” he grunts out, gritting his teeth as he watches you take his cock down your throat again, just to come back up and suckle at his tip. You whine around it, sending vibrations that shoot down to his balls and makes his legs fucking shake, “—nghh, just l-like that girl, f-fuck!!”

He’s growling and fisting your hair tighter, unapologetically fucking his length into your mouth as he chases his release. He feels his knees shake a bit at the way you seem to chase after his cock, fighting to take his cock deeper and suck his fuckin’ soul out of it, “o-oohh fuck, m’gonna fuckin’ cum doll, don’t stop.”

Even if you didn’t have toji’s hands guiding your face like a fucking sex doll, there was no way in hell you planned on letting up on his cock now. You wanted to get him to cum, too absorbed at the thought of him. Your own pussy dripping with excitement as you hurriedly await for his orgasm to come.

The groan he lets out as he chases his high is unlike anything you’ve ever heard from him. You swore that his voice could move mountains with how deep and gritty it was, making your cunt flutter helplessly. You licked his base as you come back up to his tip again, kissing and slurping around it to send him over the edge.

All toji sees is white, all he feels is heat, all he can think of is you and that damned fucking mouth that has him getting whiplash.

He cums in your mouth, surprised at the sudden force his orgasm had over his body. He’s shaking—convulsing, fighting to catch his breath as his hand on the wall supports his weight.

“Don’t waste a s-single drop…or I’ll have ya go again,” he pants, taking his cock out of your mouth. He lets you catch your breath, kneeling down to your level and gripping your chin to catch your attention, “but then again, you’d probably like that wouldn’t ya, doll?”

SUKUNA R. -> THE DEVIANT 🖤

All Sukuna has ever known has been power—king of curses, the most feared being in jujutsu history, the strongest entity in the world—titles that indubitably reinforce his ego and pride.

And yet, none of that matters until he gets you to say it. Until he has you under his grasp. It’s almost as if your words bring truth to the meaning, making his blood boil from how dependent he’s come to grow onto you.

By his logic, this was all your fault. He needed to get his edge back—what better way to do so than to go directly to the source?

“Look at you, stretched and trembling so perfectly around your king,” he trails off with a chuckle, loving at how nimble and pliant you’ve become from cuming around his fingers and tongue(s) for literal hours. Regardless of the amount of times your king plays with his pussy, it seems Sukuna’s interest in you would never fade—not like you wanted it to anyways.

“Tell me—” he starts, gripping your chin tightly as he sinks his cock deeper and deeper into your womb—his other cock leaking furiously on top of your tummy, cum gathering on top of your plush crevices that makes him drool like a fucking dog, “—to whom do you belong to?”

“Y-you, my lord!” you pathetically cry out, trying your best to hold your gaze steady with his, but ultimately failing and surrendering to the bliss your king provides you. He growls, sinking a finger in your mouth as he gives you a sharp thrust of his hips. You feel his tip touching your cervix—cockhead poking and prodding along the outline of your womb as he tries to fuck through your cervix and into your guts.

“Look at me, now,” he demands, upper lip raising and letting his canines peak out. Your eyes snap open instantly, only to be met with haunting red ones that were filled with a hunger that you’ve never seen within him. The hand that has his finger shoved in your mouth wraps around your chin and neck, smothering your face with your drool, making him twitch in your cunt from the sheer depravity of it all. He leans down to your face, licking a stripe up your cheek to taste your spit and bite your flesh, earning a cute little squeal from you that has him chuckle evilly.

Small hands wrap around his thick wrist as a whimper gets pushed past your throat and flows into Sukuna’s head, dancing in his mind and coaxing him to fuck you wildly. He stills his hips, halting the movement of his cock that’s pushed deeply into your womb, and the way your heart sank to your sweet cunny knowing damn well that this was only the beginning had your clit throb with excitement. You know he felt your arousal too—a sadistic, shit eating grin that just so happened to form on Sukuna’s face gave it away.

“so mean ‘kuna!!” you whine, small hands press against his toned stomach, pathetically trying to push him away as a pout forms on your face. He tisks at you, tapping his index finger on your cheek while keeping his grip firm on your chin.

“Mean? I’ve shown you mercy when most would have met their measly fate. I let you see me, feel me—remember your place,” his tone’s laced with venom as he reinforces his point by pistoning his cock with reckless abandon, and while his words may have scared people away from him it only encouraged your need to sink your teeth into his soul and be a part of him undoubtedly—folie a deux at its finest.

“and what is it? what’s m-ahh-my place?” you snap back, continuing to take the brunt of his thrusts as you feel your ass start to sting. Heavy balls swinging against your plump cheeks while his other cock starts to pulse against you and as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t help but want to please your lords cock.

You wanted to fucking milk him.

“your place—” he starts, letting go of your chin to hoist both thighs onto his shoulders. Slowly, he lowers himself down towards you, effectively pushing you into a mating press that will surely end in you getting knocked up by the curse.

“—is to please me—” sukuna grunts, shifting your body down the bed to further hover over you, as if he were a predator leaning over his fresh kill.

“—to worship me—,” he shifts his hips closer to yours, his pelvis and thighs showing no remorse to your poor, bruised ass and pussy, “—and to be my good fucking slut.”

With that, he slams his shaft fully inside your cunt; the new position forcing you to feel every inch of him with no escape. His cock curves inwards and pushes against your g-spot, ravaging your defenseless cunny, making you howl like a bitch in heat and squirt on the spot. He belts out a laugh of delight, fiending from the sight of you quite literally losing control of your sanity and giving into your king.

“Gonna make you fucking work for it—fucking beg your king for mercy.”

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed!! What do y’all think of this one?? Which was your fav?? I’d love to hear back from y’all <3

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

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