#so.. wordless response

[jackiebrackettt]

hello i have another jrwi song for u. sobs quietly by mom jeans is so chibo core. that whole album is so chibo

mhm mhm I can see this :]!! I’m too sleepy to go through the whole album with Character Brain rn but I will keep it in mind o7

also sorry for the late reply o(-( wanted to make sure I could actually process lyrics 💪 chibo..

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya: Diluc gets rid of things he doesn’t need anymore…with how much he resents me, I must be no different-

Diluc:

Never banned Kaeya from the tavern, even with their History and how much Kaeya pesters him there nor makes any moves to

Kept every single letter Kaeya wrote to him while in Snezhnaya, which was also the vast majority correspondence penned by one person he kept in the Winery's stash (every Letter in Beautiful Handwriting/Hidden Strife Event)

Kept the fucken vase Kaeya used on a whim to give his Vision back in, even if it did NOT match the decor of the Winery (Genshin Manga/Venti SQ/Kaeya Hangout)

Was extremely patient with Kaeya accusing him of casting aside Crepus' legacy in response to him telling Kaeya to drink responsibly (Venti SQ)

In that same dialogue, was more in disbelief/offended that Kaeya seemed to believe he would ever think of callously throwing him out than by Kae's comment abt Crepus of all things (Venti SQ)

Stayed with Kaeya on the island the entire time, no matter how much they bickered, even though he could have gone after one of the others or even taken off on his own like they did instead (Midsummer Island Adventure)

Was genuinely surprised/touched when Kae revealed he thought fondly of their childhood days gathering seashells (Echoing Tales)

Let himself get arrested for Kaeya’s harebrained scheme to save a little girl Luc didn't even know about previously, and RIGHT after Kaeya outright accused HIM of being the murderer too (Genshin Manga)

Gave Kaeya a free drink without being asked when he came to visit him to deliver the aforementioned vase after the scheme was complete (Genshin Manga)

Never refuted Kaeya's claim that Dawn Winery was his home too, nor Kae's claims that people had every right to visit 'home' during festival seasons (Weinlesefest)

Let Kaeya score free booze for the Knights to distribute for the Weinlesefest to help better their image, that Lisa specifically sent Kaeya to ask of Diluc bc she KNEW Diluc wouldn’t say no to him (Weinlesefest)

Expressed he would have Elzer speak with Hertha bc Kaeya mentioned the Knights' financial situation as an afterthought, despite how much Diluc dislikes the Knights (Weinlesefest)

Got moody bc Kaeya didn’t want to stay for dinner and IMMEDIATELY jumped at the chance to make Kaeya stay when Addie intervened to insist (Weinlesefest)

Lets and NEVER stops the servants from referring to Kaeya as ‘master’ too (They do so freely in front of him in Weinlesefest & Kaeya Hangout in particular)

Was perfectly okay with Kaeya staying at the Winery when he left, even after their dispute (Letter with Clear Handwriting/Hidden Strife)

Always remembers every single one of Kaeya’s silly excuses to try and get free wine out of him, and teases him for forgetting which he’s already used & precisely how long ago he did (Kaeya Hangout)

Is said, by Elzer, to in fact be completely fine with Kaeya stealing drinks from the Winery, even if he outwardly complains abt it (Kaeya Hangout)

Solemnly asks about Kaeya when he thinks Kaeya already left, and unpromptedly talks him up to Traveler in regards to Kae's own ability to the Winery (Kaeya Hangout)

[scorndotexe]

i will defend scorn's combat (and scorn in general--some people have valid complaints but generally people are fucking stupid about it) with my dying breaths but as much as i genuinely loved the scorn experience and want to tell all my fellow freaks on here about it i also wanna say. the combat may frustrate you. you may not like the puzzles. it's not a walking simulator but you may feel like it's too slow-paced. leave the creatures alone. look up walkthroughs if you just want to skip the puzzles. can't fix the slow-paced aspect though, at that point you're not the target audience.

[aplpaca]

I am so good with words but also so bad with words. Like my brain thinks in wordless concepts and meanings and feelings and senses of spatial blobs/forms/existences that correlate to and embody the prior things, and that all has to be translated into words.

and on one hand, it lets me make connections and associations that a lot of people wouldn't make, bc the connections and associations are through pattern and feeling and abstract sense/meaning rather than words and "concrete" definitions. And it also leads to what i think is an interesting nontraditional way of speaking/explaining/conveying stuff bc a lot of times, mixing registers and sentence structures and blurring definitions just conveys what I'm thinking Better, so its what ill gravitate towards. And while it can lead to sounding Too Formal in some situations and Too Informal in others, I do like it and think it's neat.

But on the other hand, translating thoughts into words in a way that's understood and that actually accurately depicts the source thought(s) takes so much fuckin time and effort and just makes my brain lock up a lot, esp when it's not just simple casual conversation stuff.

Language is a puzzle I can be very good at but it's still a fuckign puzzle

[whensuddenlycats]

Do you absently answer your microwave ding with some variant of "hang on baby" in your Gentle Voice™ or do you not have pets?

[inkskinned]

somewhere out there someone has probably used AI to write their wedding vows. someone out there is probably loading their hinge profile with AI quippy responses. when i close my eyes i picture a man hunting through chatGPT prompts, trying to get someone else to love him. maybe she sends him back chatGPT too, and two robots fall in love.

is this our new lives, then? is love scripted? i have a dandelion heart and some part of me wants to believe that AI will not obtain self-reliance by evil but instead by discovering the single perfect shape of love - the one thing humanity (in all our time and force) could never quite nail down. maybe it will be a string of numbers. the imprint of static, the universe's thumbprint. maybe it will just be a single long mirror, and jam dripping down your hands.

i know there are "good" reasons. i was nervous! or i was unsure how to say it! but - i want your nervous words. i want your unsure words. i want you to strike entire pages of work for me. i want you to gesture vaguely, to ransack your mind for ways to instead-of-saying just show me. i want to find where your words fail you and where the summer of your longing blazes out of you, infinite, resisting the capture of definition.

and i want to do the same for you. isn't any love worth a little bit of struggle? i want to shiver with the movie-ripe sense my friends are lovely and i am so tender towards them - i want to never quite be able to explain what it means to spend my life with them. i want to draw shapes on your skin that exit the geometric and fade into the same, wordless pattern. it is still love if silent. you know - i rarely, if ever, actually tell my siblings i love them? i just show up often, and hope the action does the talking.

i know AI is "easier". of course. buttoned up and seamlessly corporate. but i do not want to love you through a film. i do not want to love you with your edges sanded down. i cannot recognize myself in you if you are unmarred and glistening. something about how, with the crystal-clear mp3 files of the present, we ache for the scratch of vinyl. the flaws are what make love worth it. i want the raw and the windbeaten and the unkempt.

something tender, then. i love you because you're real, which means that you cannot be perfect.

[mattluvr]

⋆·˚ ༘ * a pure smut chris sturniolo oneshot !

( oral — m!receiving, dirty talk, hair pulling, pet names )

chris likes it when you suck him off on stream.

he revels in the view of you on your knees between his legs, palms splayed across his thighs as he shoves your head down onto his cock. the way your cheeks hollow and tears visibly roll down your cheeks is usually enough for him to shoot his load down the back of your throat.

which is what chris is currently on the brink of doing; he’s in a twitch stream with his brothers, the two being outrageously loud in their microphones as they play fortnite for the viewers. loud enough for chris’ strained moans to fall past his lips without notice.

you sit on the floor underneath his desk, chris’ legs quivering on either side of your head as you run your tongue up the underside of his cock, feeling each vein all the way to the tip.

“shit, ma.” chris mutters, clicking around on his keyboard to make sure matt, nick and most importantly the viewers aren’t noticing how distracted he is. “be gentle, i’ll cum too quickly.”

you grin, peppering kisses across his glistening tip, one of your hands coming up to collect the bead of pre-cum, spreading it out across his dick. then, wordlessly, you take his whole length in your mouth and the boy above you has to clamp his mouth shut, a click audible as you assume he moves to mute the stream.

“fuck. you’re so good at taking my cock.”

“mhm.” you mumble, words incoherent as you bob your head up and down, your hand cupping his balls, eliciting a moan from your boyfriend.

chris then shuffles his set up around, pushing the camera away from him, allowing him to look down at you, caressing your cheek with his hand. you’ve always been so good at sucking his dick, knowing exactly what gets him off, when to alternate between your mouth and hand and when to hollow out your cheeks.

he wishes he could capture this moment forever, your eyelashes clumped with tears as you force your head forward, the feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat making his eyes roll back. his hand snakes round to rest on the back of your head, your scalp burning as he starts to pull at the roots of your hair. your core is sodden, thighs slick with your own juices.

you move off chris, the boy groaning in frustration at the loss of contact, your hand pumping up and down nowhere near as good as your mouth. but you have something to tell him; “you’re making me so wet, chris.”

“yeah?” chris smirks, pulling your hair again, the sound of your moan in response like music to his ears. “how wet?”

“it’s dripping down my leg.” you whisper and take chris back in your mouth, a guttural sound releasing from the back of his throat at your dirty words and dirty mouth.

“jesus. my good girl.”

you hollow out your cheeks then, which is chris’ favourite move; the enclosure of it is reminiscent of being inside you, and it releases an animal within him. he groans again, throwing his head back as he starts to thrust, slowly but with power.

tears are rolling down your cheeks, your gag reflex on the verge of being triggered, but you try your best to focus and accommodate to your boyfriend who looks so fucking hot above you.

“i’m gonna cum, baby.” chris whimpers, pushing your head down even further, a moan choking him as you cup his balls again. “oh god, i’m so fucking close.”

you hum around him, giving him wordless permission to release into your mouth, which he’s evidently about to do from the way his thighs are shaking on either side of your head. his stomach is heaving, sweat sticking to the hair on his happy trail as the string keeping him together unravels.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, i’m cu-umming.” chris moans, and with that warning he’s shooting his load down the back of your throat, painting it white with his cum.

once he’s done, you pull off him, holding eye contact as you swallow every drop, your boyfriend’s jaw slack in awe. “you’re so fucking hot, ma.”

“why thank you christopher.”

you lean over to kiss him, but your movements are stilled by another foreign voice coming from chris’ PC setup.

“uh… guys?” it’s nick, who you turn to see is enlarged on chris’ screen, the twitch livechat going crazy on the opposite side.

below him is matt who looks disgusted, and as you and chris caught on, both sets of eyes widen, the two of you turning to face each other.

“you forgot to mute your computer?!”

chris looked sheepish, eyes cast downwards as he responds. “must’ve gotten carried away.”

well shit.

[dollfacefantasy]

billy butcher x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, fingering i am so down bad i had to get this out of my system

Everywhere he went, you followed Billy around like a puppy. Always watching him with adoring eyes, lingering by his side to see what he was up to. At first he pinned it on you looking for reassurance as the newbie in the group, but after a few weeks, it was obvious that your attachment ran deeper. You obviously had quite the crush. 

You spoke to him with more nerves in your voice. Followed his orders down to the letter and damn near saluted him when you received them. He could scowl at you or scold you, and you might scurry away with your tail between your legs for the hour. But give it some time, and you'd be back.

He didn’t know what to make of it. Sure it was... flattering, and technically, you were still doing your job well, performing on missions as you should. But at the same time, it was distracting having a sweet young thing like you prancing around him at all times, seeking his approval with each breath you took. He was supposed to be focusing on revenge, justice, saving the world and all that. But fuck, one look at you and that's all a distant memory.

At the end of the day, he's just a man. He needs to have a taste. One night when the two of you are out scouting, he gets you alone in the van. It only takes a tender look and a few words in a lilted tone of his voice to have you cumming on his fingers and your panties in the pocket of his coat. A few days later, you blow him in a public bathroom while you wait for a target to show up. After that, he eats you out at your desk in the office.

Tonight he gets you back to his place. He's sat on the sagging couch, thighs spread wide enough to accommodate you between them. He holds you there. You're bent in half with your legs up in the air. One of his arms is hooked around them for support while his other is curved around your bottom to get at your dripping pussy.

His thick fingers pump in and out. He works at a moderate pace for now, not enough to break you just yet, but the perfect rhythm to make you squirm your ass against his solid bulge. You have your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him with droopy, glazed eyes. All he can do is smirk in return.

"Feel good? You like gettin' that little cunt stuffed full?" he teases.

His voice comes out hushed despite the fact that it's just the two of you. The words rumble up from his chest against your back. You just nod in response. Any words that would have been suitable have turned to mush in the pit of your belly.

The wordless gesture doesn't stop him at all. It only spurs him forward. His entire hand is coated in slick by now, your arousal seeps out with each pump and slips over the expanse of his palm. Wet, erotic noises emanate from your center while soft whimpers pour from your lips. He squeezes your legs up tighter, smooshing your breasts down.

"I know you do, pup. Such a needy thing," he says, "Following me around like I got you collared and leashed."

You moan at the image of that filling your mind. If he wanted you to, you would. You'd kneel at his feet, bound and pretty, displaying your devotion to him around your neck. You'd rest your empty little head on his knee and zone out while he pet you and called you his good girl.

"Oh, she likes that," he chuckles as your walls clamp around him.

You nod eagerly before arching your back and yelping as his thumb starts swiping across your puffy clit.

"Atta girl. Panting like a bitch in heat for me," he murmurs and nuzzles your temple.

You whine like one too, trembling in his arms as the coils of pleasure tighten in your tummy. Your eyes flutter, lashes dusting your cheeks as you look up at him. He watches on with his own lust blazing in his eyes.

He fucks his fingers into your tight heat faster, curling them a bit to stroke that sweet spot inside you. Some drool slips from between your lips at the onslaught of stimulation. His fingers were just so fucking thick. Only two of 'em were in right now. He hadn't let you take his cock yet, but you could only imagine how snug of a fit it would be if this was any indicator.

"There you go, love. You're getting there," he praises as he continues sliding his fingers in and out while massaging your bundle of nerves.

"F-fuck," you whimper, "Gonna cum soon."

"I can tell," he rasps, "Go head and do it. Wanna see you come apart for me."

Soft noises of ecstasy bubble from your lips. You were nothing if not dedicated to pleasing this man, so you give him what he wants. It only takes a few more flicks and thrusts of his digits to get you to crash into bliss. 

Your head tilts back as you cum. Your legs kick lightly in the air, but he keeps you in place. You squirm against his broad, warm chest. Your cunt locks tightens around his fingers, wishing so fucking badly that it was his cock.

He kisses you as you start to come down. His lips land on yours and capture every delicious sound you make. Your breathing calms and returns to a normal pace along with your heart rate slowing down. Your legs bend over his forearm before he lets them down gently and allows you to just sink back into his body.

You're soaked between your legs, inner thighs slippery with release. As he withdraws his fingers, your pussy is already aching for another part of him to fill it up again. You turn and slide your grabby hands beneath his shirt, but he simply boosts you up to sit fully on his lap.

"You're insatiable, sweetheart," he teases before pecking your lips.

"Cause you keep teasing me," you mumble.

"Yeah? Think so? I think I'm just taking my time with you."

"Takin' too long," you huff in response between kisses.

"Maybe you're just greedy and spoiled," he says.

You're about to reply with another bratty comment, but he flips you over and spreads you out on the couch. You hear the zipper on his pants slide down, and you're almost certain it's the most thrilling noise you've heard in your life. One look up at his eyes tells you you're not gonna be complaining in a couple more minutes.

[nymphomatique]

wanna sit on nerd miguel’s face while i use my phone to snap other guys that’s my little chair fr😔😻

this just changed the trajectory of my life in a way you cannot understand.

cw: slight d/s dynamics, sending nudes, munch miguel makes an appearance once more, bro literally FEASTS, new character yippee (v minor), brief choking (more like a neck squeeze tbh), praise, squirting LOL, miguel gets kicked out again 😔 reader catching feelings?? we may never know. semi proofread today i felt nice. this is a longer one than usual, so enjoy!

“stop fuckin’ squirming down there and eat me out properly,” you say, looking down at miguel. his eyes are hazy and hooded, his glasses somewhere on the bed, his brown eyes clear as day. you grip his head by his hair and position him to where his nose brushes above your clit, and you moan at the feeling. “l-like that, okay miguel? be good for mommy.”

miguel takes heed of your instructions and begins to lick, suck, and thrust up into your wetness, making it hard for you to maintain something relative to your composure. in the throes of miguel’s mouth work, your phone screen, next to miguel’s head, lights up with a snapchat notification from none other than the star quarterback of your school, peter parker. you bite the corner of your lip, mouth pulling up in a smile at an idea. you grab your phone and open it to snapchat, seeing peters name at the top of your snap list. you open his snap and it’s a picture of him shirtless, abs on display, his happy trail just peeking over the band of his pants. his snap is captioned with text reading ‘wyd?’

you prop your camera up, angling it enough that miguel’s face and your pussy are out of frame. miguel stops for a moment to ask what you’re doing, but before he can get a word in you speak up, “if you stop, this will be the last time i ever let you touch me. got it? keep fucking going.” and wordless, miguel does as he’s told, going back to eating you but with a new energy this time. it catches you off guard a bit, and you let out a light f-fuck in response, but you don’t let it derail you from answering peter back.

peter. you and him have had.. complicated history to say the least. since high school, the two of you ran in the same social circles, with him being on your high school football team and you, a cheerleader. a true status quo. the two of you had ended up attending the same underaged parties, hooking up and even going steady for some time, until the blonde busty thing known as gwen stacy walked into your high school in sophomore year and made her claim on your then boyfriend. you figured it out after you walked in on them under the bleachers post-game, the spot where you habitually got on your knees to congratulate peter for his win. you stayed with him after a profuse apology and intense “i’m sorry” fuck session, to your dismay, but broke up with him in the beginning of your senior year. now, you two fuck from time to time, scratching an itch when you have it.

you look back at the tease of a photo on your phone, your tits spilling out your plunge neck crop top and your abdomen cutting off right above your pubic area, your pink thong still visible coming up the sides of your hips. you feel miguel plunge his tongue into you, causing you to fall forward, steadying yourself with one hand, phone in the other. “keep this up and i’m gonna squirt on you, but i bet you’re into that huh?” you laugh out a little, miguel moaning into you in response. you try not to get distracted and caption your snap to peter ‘nothing really’ and press send.

immediately, you see that he opens it and he replies just as fast, this time the photo of him in grey sweats with a visible tent, layer out on his bed. the caption attached, ‘wanna turn your nothing to a something? ;)’ and you roll your eyes. you move to answer him with another midriff picture, but you change your mind. “hey, look at me dweeb,” you say, turning the camera so that it’s capturing the angle of miguel’s mouth on your pussy, covered in spit and your juices. he looks up and sees the camera of your phone pointed down towards him and he goes red in the face and tight lipped. “remember what i told you about stopping,” you remind him, and he maintains eye contact with the camera as he goes back to lick a strip up your pussy, from your leaking hole to your clit. you move your unoccupied hand to his face, palm to his cheek as you slowly caress him with your thumb. “that’s a good boy.”

you move your hand from his cheek, trailing softly down to his strong neck and you wrap your hand around his neck and squeeze. at the pressure he lets out a groan, his hands moving to grip your thighs tighter to his face. “fuck miguel, you’re making mommy so happy right now- ah! fuck, just like that. keep doing that, o-okay?” you moan out. he says nothing, his eyes, still maintaining contact with the camera, clouded with lust, answering for him.

you snap a picture, turned on at the lewdness of it. it’s your pussy on miguel’s face, pink panties pushed to the side as his mouth is sucking on your clit, his hands gripping the fat of your thighs, and your hand around his neck at the same time. you make quick work to save the photo and caption it ‘busy, sorry’, feeling your orgasm approach. you press send and drop your phone, ignoring the back to back buzzing, probably of peters reply to your salacious snap.

a steady heat begins to boil in the pit of your stomach, and you keen forwards, your hand leaving miguel’s neck to grip the white sheets on your bed. “i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna-“ and with that, you feel the pleasure within you tighten then burst, like a damn breaking way, and you begin to tremble as miguel continues his work down on you. the overstimulation begins to hit you, and you feel a spurt of liquid leave your body and miguel groan and suck. “oh my god,” you heave out, “st-stop, no more.”

miguel places a final kiss to your mound as he moves to lift your limp hips for you. he feels sheepish how, his sweater and mouth drenched with your liquids. he wipes his lips and makes way to speak to your still firm on the bed. “are- are you okay?”

you say nothing, grab the nearest pillow you have, and throw it at him. miguel dodges and understands that means get the fuck out.

after collecting yourself, your body still spent and sheets still wet, you roll over on your back and grab your phone to look at what peter replied to you. you open his snap, and laugh a little at his responses.

peter 🚮

| is that fucking o’hara..?

| you’re fucking with me???

| fucking whore

| you sleep with nerds now??

you make way to reply to peter one more time, opening the camera and taking a picture of the wet bedsheets, caption it ‘nerds that can make me cum? yeah’ and unadd him after.

you finally haul yourself up to change your sheets when you see miguel’s glasses on your bed. you grab them and put them on your nightstand, feeling heat rush through your blood to your face, thinking of him and the mess he made of you.

fucking dweeb.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Simon was big in all aspects. With his height and the way he was built like a brick shit house it wasn't that big of a leap in logic to presume he was also equipped with a proportionally sized cock as well.

Your gag reflex was awful. You told Simon that before the first time you went down on him. He always fought against you blowing him, always turning it around on you and making you see stars with his tongue. But you really wanted to take him in your mouth, practically begged for it.

He doubted you when you said your gag reflex was bad, surely it couldn't be that horrible? He soothed you, saying you can have complete control the entire time so he wouldn't end up making you throw up.

He was proven terribly wrong.

You gagged hard when his tip touched the back of your tongue, pulling away to keep yourself from throwing up on his cock. That would've been even more embarrassing.

Simon held your face in his large hands, wiping any stray tears that had formed from gagging. He said it wasn't that big of a deal, he preferred going down on you more anyways.

But it wasn't just that you wanted to give him pleasure, you also wanted to blow him. You couldn't deny the thought of sucking on Simon's cock made a wet patch form on your panties. You explained this to him and he went quiet for a moment before he kissed your forehead and proceeded to fuck you into the mattress, wringing as many orgasms as he could out of you before he came as well.

"Fuck lovie-" he choked out as your pussy spasmed around him. Your entire body was trapped underneath his weight, you couldn't move. You could only lay there as your orgasm launched your mind into orbit.

"You wanna suck my cock sweetheart?" He asked and you dumbly nodded, fists clenched above your head where one of his hands kept them pinned. He groaned at your wordless response and his pace faltered a little.

"You drive me insane," he gritted out as his grip on your wrists tightened a little, "I don't fuckin' deserve you," unable to respond you hoped your whine of protest was enough to argue back that he did.

" 'm Gonna help you," he muttered as he kept battering his cock into your weeping cunt as another orgasm built up.

"I'll get some help in training that pretty throat to take my cock-" your eyes widened, "I know just the man for the job." He said as he spilled into you as your back tried to arch against the bed, hardly able to move as he pressed his full body weight down on you.

After you had fallen asleep, mind too mushy to ask who exactly he had referred to, he had typed up the message. "Wanna help train my birds throat Johnny?"

[riki-riks-chick]

Racing Thoughts ┃N.RK

needy!riki x oblivious!reader

riki has never had sex before and has a raging hard on. he simply does nothing abt it and it's driving him insane.

no smut included

═════════════

Third Person POV~

Riki had been watching you all day. Whether intentional or not, he was simply enjoying being around you. It wasn't until you sat beside him on the couch that things got awkward.

You had turned on the movie, placing your hand on his thigh as you always did, but this time it was so intimate in his mind. 

He couldn't keep his wandering eyes from flickering between your hand and the TV screen. His baggy pants are growing more and more tight around his crotch as he melts against the warmth of your palm.

He's trying his hardest to hide it too, a pillow placed directly on his lap to cover his very obvious hard on. He knows that it's normal. You're his girlfriend and he finds you attractive, but he's never popped a boner from such a simple action.

It's not like he craves to touch you that bad, after all he's never gone all the way before and you can't miss what you haven't had, but something about the way you innocently kiss or touch him.. It just seems so emphatically wrong.

So here he is, spending the remainder of the movie, pressing his thighs together, fidgeting every time your hand twitches even slightly.

His mind is racing with thoughts. Most of them less than appropriate,but he can't control it. He's never felt this way before, not at all. 

You begin to notice how he's moving so much, cheeks flushed a pretty red and his teeth tugging on his bottom lip every other minute.

"You okay, Riki?" You ask as he nods, scared to open his mouth, fearing that if he does he'll let out a moan. You shrug at his wordless response, moving your hand away from his thigh as you sit in a more comfortable position on the couch.

He immediately takes in a breath of relief, his roaring thoughts trickling down as he glances over at you.

"Baby... Can you help me?.. Please?.."

═════════════

@ihugyeojin hope u like this luv ❤

[nyoomerr]

Shen Yuan entered Luo Binghe’s life like any other good thing he’s ever had: with great difficulty, and accompanied by copious amounts of sex.

The difficult parts don’t bear talking about. Luo Binghe still feels his stomach drop at the reminders of those first few mercurial months of knowing Shen Yuan, at the way Shen Yuan had unintentionally dismantled most notions of what Luo Binghe thought a happy ending should be like. He doesn’t think he’ll ever quite enjoy thinking about that time: it had been, in some ways, a more miserable challenge to overcome than his time in the Abyss had been. 

(It had been, in many ways, the only challenge Luo Binghe had ever had to face that was directed inwards. There was no straightforward evil to banish or monster to slay. There was hardly even a wife to seduce, given the fact that Shen Yuan had let himself be seduced by Luo Binghe’s image long before Luo Binghe himself had ever arrived in Shen Yuan’s world to begin with. 

There was only this: in order to grasp the incandescent happiness that Shen Yuan presented - that Luo Binghe deserved - he had to admit that every moment of so-called happiness he had experienced for the last century had been a fool’s imitation of it. In order to be happy with Shen Yuan, he had to admit to being miserable without him. 

It was humiliating, and it was nauseating, and it had even made Luo Binghe cry once, where he thought Shen Yuan wouldn’t be able to see him. 

He’d been so, so glad when it turned out Shen Yuan wouldn’t even look away from that - from Luo Binghe at his least lovable.)

No, the difficult parts of Luo Binghe’s conquest of Shen Yuan are best kept carefully out of mind. The other, better parts of that conquest - the parts involving hot skin against skin, as close as Luo Binghe could get to fitting Shen Yuan within his own flesh where he could never part from him - those parts are far more pleasant to remember, and Luo Binghe works to make new memories of that sort every day. 

Despite its pleasantness, however, the sex is not Luo Binghe’s favorite part of his courtship with Shen Yuan. 

“Bing-ge,” Shen Yuan calls, voice just an octave shy of a proper whine, “surely we can spend summers in my world? You can’t really think this heat is more pleasant than modern AC, ah?”

Luo Binghe hums, leaning in to run his mouth across the plane of Shen Yuan’s neck, savoring the smell of Shen Yuan’s sweat. His skin is tacky from the heat; Luo Binghe briefly fantasizes about being able to stick himself to it permanently. 

“Wasn’t it Yuan-er who begged to see the Fire-Driven Herons’ migration? It only happens once every decade, after all.”

“I know that,” Shen Yuan says, scowling. “I was the one who told you that.”

“Yuan-er is the most knowledgeable about this world,” Luo Binghe agrees. 

Shen Yuan sighs, squirming half-heartedly in Luo Binghe’s lap - a wordless threat to get up. Obediently, Luo Binghe waves the fan in his free hand a bit quicker in Shen Yuan’s direction, threading delicate veins of qi into the generated wind to ensure it’s pleasantly cool. Satisfied, Shen Yuan settles back in, starting up one of his charming lectures about the fauna of Luo Binghe’s world. 

Luo Binghe listens more to the cadence of Shen Yuan’s voice than to the words themselves. He doesn’t often find it necessary to know the ecological features of a beast in order to slay it, or to capture it for Shen Yuan’s zoo, or to cook it into a proper meal. 

Still, this is what Luo Binghe likes best - what he likes even more than sex, which he’d thought to be his favorite activity from the ages of 17 to 132. 

Lounging on the ground, Shen Yuan sat snugly in his lap and held close by Luo Binghe’s free arm, allowing himself to be pet and cuddled as if it were a natural part of a trip to see some ugly birds migrate - 

Pressing his nose into the nape of Shen Yuan’s neck, left bare by Luo Binghe’s own hands that had been responsible for putting Shen Yuan’s hair up in its current complicated hairstyle - 

Idly fanning Shen Yuan to keep him cool even even while Luo Binghe himself is the greatest source of heat when pressed so close in the summer sun like this -

Over a century into his so-called happy ending, Luo Binghe has rediscovered his greatest pleasure to be physical affection of a non-sexual sort, and Shen Yuan gives it as freely as he breathes.

Oh, he fusses and complains and acts as if he must be coaxed into loving Luo Binghe, but it is such a poor act that Luo Binghe can’t help feeling nothing but warm indulgence towards it. 

“Don’t be so bold,” Shen Yuan will scold when Luo Binghe buys lube without hiding his identity, and yet in the next moment he’ll casually thread his fingers between Luo Binghe’s to hold his hand all the way through their walk down the main street of town.

“Who taught you to act like this, ah?!” Shen Yuan will complain when Luo Binghe ensures his subordinates know what an honor it is to be allowed to look at Shen Yuan, but then it will be Shen Yuan himself who will seat himself directly at Luo Binghe’s side instead of any more appropriate location for a Lord’s wife.

“There’s no need to be so sticky,” Shen Yuan will sigh when he catches Luo Binghe practically running back from the kitchens with breakfast, eager to return to his sweetheart’s side, but then Shen Yuan will happily eat from Luo Binghe’s own chopsticks, even during meals taken in the main dining hall.

Despite all his aired grievances, Shen Yuan himself breaks countless social boundaries a day without even blinking. He truly thinks nothing of it, believing these gifts he presses into Luo Binghe’s heart to be nothing but normal for a couple. Normal! As if Luo Binghe has not heard tavern songs about the Demon Emperor’s shameless new male wife, spun by every servant and enemy alike that has visited the palace and been struck to flustered embarrassment at the way Shen Yuan acts!

Luo Binghe wants to roll Shen Yuan up in one hand and eat him. He dared to say as much to Shen Yuan, once; Shen Yuan had merely rolled his eyes and told him that he wasn’t into “vore.”

(Luo Binghe had made a note to research this “vore” when they next returned to Shen Yuan’s world. He’s learned that he can coax Shen Yuan into a great many number of things, if he does it slowly and lovingly enough. The delay will give Luo Binghe time to figure out a way to both take Shen Yuan’s flesh and blood into his own without then being left without a Shen Yuan to hold in his arms.)

Certainly, some part of Luo Binghe knows this quirk in Shen Yuan’s behavior to be a byproduct of the world Luo Binghe had stolen him from. The standards for modesty are warped in that place, and Shen Yuan had been gently raised by the hand of that world to not notice anything odd about it. 

A god is no less sacred for having come from the heavens where more gods reside, though. Nor does a man feel faith to any of those supposed unseen gods when one presently sits in their lap, free to worship with prayer and touch alike. None of the other people of Shen Yuan’s world had offered Luo Binghe something so precious as the free flowing love that Shen Yuan shows him. None of them had been so foolish, and so sweet, and so carelessly thoughtful despite a cute mean streak hidden within, and -

“Bing-ge,” Shen Yuan calls, and Luo Binghe bites at Shen Yuan’s neck to prove he’s listening. Shen Yuan sighs. “Bing-ge, you aren’t listening to a word I say.”

“I am,” Luo Binghe says, “I just bit you to prove it.”

“Wha - how does that prove - oh, you’re hopeless!” Shen Yuan cries, squirming again, this time with a stronger intention.

Displeased, Luo Binghe casts aside the fan he’d been using to cool Shen Yuan, moving instead to curl both arms around Shen Yuan’s middle. When Shen Yuan keeps squirming, he trails one hand down to rub at Shen Yuan’s thigh, listening for Shen Yuan’s indignant protests. Luo Binghe may have grown drunk on the simple act of holding Shen Yuan without the need for it to be sexually pleasurable, but he isn’t above using sex to keep Shen Yuan close if he must. He refuses to give up even a millimeter of contact with this precious person unless there is no other option. 

“You’re insufferable,” Shen Yuan complains, slapping at Luo Binghe’s creeping hand several times. “We’ll miss the migration we came all this way to see if you keep this up!”

“I’ll miss Yuan-er’s closeness the most,” Luo Binghe says gravely, and Shen Yuan snorts.

“Insufferable,” he repeats, and then gives his most put-upon sigh. “Can’t you just settle for holding my hand for at least until the birds leave?”

Happily, Luo Binghe stops feeling Shen Yuan up and intertwines their hands instead. Shen Yuan praises him for his patience, as if the simple feeling of their palms pressed together isn’t more pleasurable than the greatest heights of ecstasy found in any bed. 

One day, Luo Binghe will confess this to Shen Yuan: that he’s truly deviated far too much from the erotic character Shen Yuan had read all about in that other world. That somehow, when it’s Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe feels so overwhelmed with simple affection that his greatest desires are as chaste as a young boy’s. Oh, he still enjoys the sex, but -

But ah, what he really loves most is this.

[gildedkrone]

KINKTOBER 2023 🔞

Simon “Ghost” Riley sits with his back into the large lounge chair made specifically for his stature and size. The cushion cradles his worn body now christened with more bruises and scars from a recent mission as a lowly sigh slips past chapped lips.

Simon “Ghost” Riley gently spreads his thighs further apart when you come to a stop beside him. Your eyes search for permission and it’s written in his tired eyes to continue. He gets cold feet—so unlike him—when you sink to your knees and rest your hands on his thighs flanking you.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wonders how he has gotten into this situation. A few weeks ago when Soap badgered him about his sex life and preferences. He almost throttled the sergeant when he mentioned you are a good candidate for his giant dick. It’s true that he is well endowed; if the makers had a favourite, he is one of them.

Simon “Ghost” Riley has had his fair share of unpleasant sexual encounters where his partner would balk at the size of his dick. More than once, he feels objectified when his previous partners would reduce him down to nothing but the organ between his legs and on some occasions, they turned him down after seeing it. The resulting shame burns his face and the ensuing cigarette smoke works in a bid to calm his agitated nerves.

Simon “Ghost” Riley knows it’s been close to a month since his last encounter with his right hand under the spray of warm water in his private toilet and bath. His sex drive is a swarm of bees forming a nest in his consciousness and growing louder by the day until his control over his urges are waned sufficiently for them to take over.

Simon “Ghost” Riley nearly balks when you casually mention you are available—he knows you must’ve heard Soap’s talk. He considers turning it down, that is before you suggest something simple. No penetration; just your mouth and his dick. A kiss ending in pleasure and release for him between two men. He’s worked with you before and trusted you with his life on the battlefield.

Simon “Ghost” Riley takes a few weeks to accept and now, you’ve been summoned to his private quarters on the base. It’s sparsely decorated and he goes to unbuckle his belt if your hand hadn’t stopped him. Let me do it, you eyes say and he relinquishes the act. The belt clicks open and the zipper is drawn down before the whole garment is pulled down to his knees.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wears a simple pair of white cotton boxers for the occasion and he stiffens slightly when a hand gently cups his clothed package. When he’s feeling ready, he grunts at the feeling of wet warmth laving up his boxer briefs. He sees your head resting against his thigh and under the single tableside light, it paints your face something orange and warm.

Simon “Ghost” Riley sucks in a deep breath when he is sufficiently chubbed up from the ministrations of your mouth and the garment feels too tight for comfort; the obscene tent is proof enough. Your hands come to grasp the elastic waistband to pull down his boxers and he prepares himself for what always comes next.

“You’re beautiful, Simon.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley feels it’s a joke when his dick is exposed to the air. There’s no feelings of shame or disgust; there’s only a soft wonder in your eyes reserved for him. He grunts a little louder when fingers come to wrap around the shaft. All the time, your eyes remain in contact with his when he melts at the tentative strokes and squeezes of his engorged dick. Asking if he’s ready to continue.

Simon “Ghost” Riley nods and your response is wordless. A few more strokes has him standing proudly erect and a moan escapes without his permission when your mouth descends on his dick. The previous feeling of damp warmth is replaced with the wet, velvety heat gently making its way down from the head to the base of his dick.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wrestles the urge to slam your head into his pelvis to speed up the process. It feels blindingly good and his hand comes nowhere close to what he is feeling. He exhales roughly when you nose brushes against his groin—he dimly registers your lack of a gag reflex. Never before has anyone taken him fully and his dick agrees as well when it throbs with the unsatiated lust pooling in his groin in something shimmery.

Simon “Ghost” Riley moans when your head pulls upwards to stop at the tip and he groans when a tongue slips past delectable lips to lick at his slit. Nothing is overly sexual in nature, and you blow him a penile kiss as a shiver runs up his spine. The sensation of his balls being caressed gently only serves to make him even harder and his hips jump forward as he leans back further into the chair.

Simon “Ghost” Riley feels some sort of way when you take him again, this time, however, not fully with a hand at the base of his dick. His thoughts flee with his rationality when your mouth combines with the pleasurable message of his balls chockful of his month-old cum. He fights demons, fights gods, and himself to not mistreat your mouth as it brings him waves of pleasure in ever greater crests.

Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t a vocal man, but the ever growing grunts and groans are his way of showing how much he is enjoying this experience. The pace of the intimate act speeds up and his grip on the chair is leaving deep imprints into the material. It feels divine, the way his dick is encased in a cocoon of sinful sensations his hands and previous partners could never deliver.

Simon “Ghost” Riley rests a hand against your face as he feels the knot of pleasure building in his pelvis. Unlike his previous rough and hard experiences, this slowly growing knot ignites something fuzzy in him. It’s edges are soft and he can’t pinpoint exactly how it feels, just that it feels different in the best way possible and leaves him a lustful man seeking more of where it came from.

Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t used to the sensual and slower pace of sex you are taking him on and he feels his peak arriving far too quickly. He prides himself on having a stamina rivalling bulls and a self-control rigid as iron clasps. Under the assault of your mouth, however, he finds his defences failing him one by one as his body twitches and flexes with the sheer visceral pleasure thrumming through his core. All from that lascivious mouth also producing the obscene noises of the coupling he’s in.

Simon “Ghost” Riley’s lips aren’t his anymore as he bites out praises and words. "Y-yes, fuck, right there, baby" and "Y-yer doin' so, so fuckin' good" are several of your favourites as you work dutifully to bring the man the euphoria he so deserved. A “good f-fuckin’ boy” is motivation to get you to redouble your efforts and work to give him the best blowjob he will ever have in his life.

Simon “Ghost” Riley grits his teeth harshly when you hollow your cheeks to apply maximum contact against the angry and very ready organ in your mouth. The dance of pleasure nears its grand finale and he seeks permission to dirty your mouth. You squeeze his thigh gently with your free hand and he hips surge when the tongue brushes under the frenulum of the already sensitive head jamming into the back of your throat. Everything, from the air to the coarse feeling of the fabric on the seat serves to inflame the sensations he’s experiencing and further edge him.

Simon “Ghost” Riley is a man standing at the precipice of control and mid suck, you feel it; the telltale shudder of his dick and his sudden choked gasp of “close!” ends in a loud grunt when you sink fully down his dick and warmth floods your orifice. His orgasm hits him like a runaway freight train and he just sinks into the chair to ride out the sexual gratification mending into relief and euphoria at the edges of his perception.

Simon “Ghost” Riley gently strokes your hair and temple as he cums hard and unleashes a month’s worth of pent up ball batter into your throat greedily sucking and milking him for all he’s worth. The world narrows down into this instance of time where nothing matters. Nothing but his feelings catching up to blindside him in a mirage where his fingers intertwine with yours and the dam of emotions fully crumble under a release cathartic as divinity is all encompassing; he finds the waves of satiation lapping at his parched lips.

Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t a religious man by any means; his childhood is proof god has abandoned him. But this, this might have been his reward for overcoming his demons. Written by the deities of the stars and for him. Only him in the intimacy of his home with someone he trusted to experience the nirvana promised to him and every other man.

Simon “Ghost” Riley basks in the afterglow propping up his consciousness as his wrung out body is content to remain where it is while your mouth keeps his spent dick comfortable and warm. No stamina can ever compete with a release as monumental and with the kind of finality that robbed him of strength and left him strutless and fully relaxed.

Simon “Ghost” Riley wants to repay your act with pleasure when he spots the tightness of your combat pants. You shake your head and tell him tonight has been all about him and making him feel as good as he possibly can. He frowns when you insist but drops the topic when he feels warmth envelope his softening dick. There’s no urgency to do anything; he doesn’t feel capable of another round.

Simon “Ghost” Riley cups your cheek with rough, calloused fingers and lifts the balaclava up to his nose. He mouths, thank you.

Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist || kinktober masterlist

[multifandomme]

Carmine

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Female Reader

Summary: A lesson learnt?

Genre: Smut, (breathplay, degradation, power dynamics, thigh riding, pet names, praise kink, daddy kink, prentiss in crotchless panties), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 1.7k.

This piece is for day 6 of kinktober under the 'lingerie' prompt.

More works from me here. || Masterlist here. || Kinktober 2024 Masterlist here.

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A carmine silhouette flooded your vision as you entered the bedroom, the distinct scent of smoke fizzling from a cigarette that dangled from her fingers. Emily regarded you with a knowing smirk having instantaneously secured your undivided attention, the intricate lace adornments fixated below your gaze as an air of suspicion cast its shadow. Beneath the subtlety of the surrounding candlelight, Emily was elysian, skin aglow with the gentlest spark of orange. 

On the exterior, the scene oozed romance, her motives unsullied, though you knew that this was merely a distraction tactic of the deliberate kind. No, she was in pursuit of ridding a very particular memory from your mind. 

Emily’s stare was unwavering as she sucked in another mouthful of smoke, wordless temptation suspended in the space between you. Daringly, she widened her thighs, offering a fleeting glimpse of what lay below, purposefully long enough for you to deduce that her panties were crotchless. Subconsciously, your tongue swiped across your lips and for a split second, the upper hand found itself in her possession. 

“You look hungry,” she lured, sexily, her free hand meandering until it settled between her legs, two fingers trailing across her exposed flesh in a valiant attempt at seducing you. “Why don’t you come and have a taste, hm?”

Deviously, she plucked the cigarette from her lips, replacing its absence with her arousal-covered digits, suckling them clean with sounds of zeal, excitement, eyes peeking open to assure your continual supervision of her. And she need not have questioned your observation of her for a second, engrossed in a way so resolute that you were almost tempted to set aside your plans and relinquish to senseless desire. 

“You really think you deserve my mouth on you?” You asked, stoically, a wry chuckle tumbling out of you when you noted the sudden disappearance of her smug little simper. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out what you did, sweetheart?”

A conspicuous glimmer of fear, of doubt materialised upon her face and only added to your entrancement of her. She gulped audibly, but the inadvertent display of nervousness was soon dismissed with a slight shake of her head.

“I wish I could help you,” she shrugged, feigning ignorance, her gaze averted as she discarded her cigarette into the ashtray upon the bedside table. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A conceited smile remained bitten behind pursed lips, paled as she crawled to the edge of the bed to gain closer proximities, to rile you further you assumed. 

“I had a very enlightening conversation with Doug Bailey,” you revealed, frankly, stepping forwards to clasp her jaw within your hand and observing as her irises kindled with lust. “He told me all about the clever little stunt you pulled today in the interrogation room.”

The harshened force that you had exerted around her jaw did nothing to deter her biting remarks, a grin activating, sizzling stabs of adrenaline piercing into you in response to her defiance. 

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” she denied, cockily, her attitude beginning to hack away at your self-control. 

“How convenient,” you growled, releasing her abruptly to curl a finger below her chin, drawing her towards you until your lips were just short of making a connection with hers. “Apparently, Mommy put on a hell of a show for one lucky murderer.”

Emily hummed in faux surprise, her eyes widening to garnish the masquerade into believability. It was a game to her, always had been, bumping up against the boundary until you forcibly yanked her away from it. She never won, never had, though it never prevented her from playing, if anything, it only seemed to heighten the appeal. 

“But you didn’t stop there,” you husked, a tinge of anger pricking at your composure. “No, you unbuttoned your shirt for him, didn’t you, baby?” You questioned, hotly, your jaw flexing with intensity. “And bent all the way over that interrogation table so he could take a good, hard look at you.” 

The sound of cachinnation blurted out to hinder the flitting silence, ebbing out once Emily recognised the familiarity of the expression that you were sporting, wrathful, unpredictable. She leaned in, enticingly, her mouth agape and breezing air against your lips with each lengthened exhale, as if she was mustering the courage to do something that was certain to induce a marked response. 

“It worked like a charm,” she admitted, boldly, her words kissing against you. “You should have seen the way he looked at me,” she continued, fixed, unafraid, her eyes falling to a close with a contented sigh, as if she was recalling it with fondness to incite maximal rage. “If Bailey wasn’t behind the glass, I bet he-“

Emily’s sentence was forsaken to be stolen away, her breath held captive by your sturdy hand enfolded around her throat. She spluttered, let out a wavering gasp, her consciousness waning and re-emerging with the varying pressure that you applied. 

“Oh, I’ll bet,” you gnarled, viciously, a maniacal smirk fused to your lips as you basked in her state of incapacitation, admired her in all of her glory. “Did you like it, huh? Whoring yourself out for a criminal?” You probed, intimidatingly, your hand mirroring the force of your words, constricting until an almost undetectable squeak escaped her. “Is that what you are, baby? A whore?"

Emily’s thighs pressed snugly together as she knelt on the edge of the mattress, fixed in position with no way to break free of you. It was only when a reticent groan bled out into the deafening quiet that you realised that she was reaping gratification from her crafty manoeuvres. Her eyes bored into yours, scorching with allure, her mouth open as she gathered the coherency to utter a word.

“Be very careful with your next words,” you warned, thwarting her before she had the opportunity to instigate her own ruin. “Your oxygen is at my disposal, baby,” you cooed, a scoff bursting from you as Emily jolted physically at the prospect. “Wouldn’t want you to pass out now, would we?”

Emily released a pathetic whine, one that only grew in volume when you administered a squeeze of reiteration around her slender neck. She writhed lightly in your grasp, her mind wiped clean of thoughts, dizzied by the oxygen depletion with nothing but nonsensical fragments spilling from her lips.

“No,” she rasped, tears brimming in the corners of her eyes as she tried avidly to will them away. “I’m only yours, Daddy,” she insisted, fervently, despite the fact that she was breathless, weary. 

“There’s my good girl,” you extolled, loosening your hold until it vanished, Emily appearing to float away in the absence of pressure, her head bobbing around gently as its weight restored. “Now, let Daddy take a look at you, hm?”

Softly, you guided her onto her back, her pussy occluded by the arousal that had amassed during your exacerbation of her. She was swollen, desperate, so much that you almost pledged to give in, just once. 

“Please,” she murmured, completely malleable below your hands as her pussy twitched with every painstaking stroke to her clit, her back arching upward from the bed with verve. “Fuck, I need you, Daddy.”

Your sudden retreat saw her scrambling up onto her elbows to discern your whereabouts, creeping over to your newfound position against the pillows. 

“Disobedient sluts don’t get rewards, you know that, sweetheart,” you reminded, softly, your fingers caressing her silver tresses with affection. “But it would be a shame to waste those pretty panties, hm?”

Emily offered a zealous nod, her interest roused as she awaited instruction, eager to obey you. The palm of your hand met your thigh, your eyes flickering in an unspoken demand and Emily was quick to oblige as she settled herself atop it.

“Are you going to let me cum, Daddy?” She questioned, a lilt of hopefulness in her voice, her lip captured between her teeth. 

“If you behave,” you acceded, feasting on the view before you, your thigh soaked with arousal from the way her pussy smothered against your skin. “Maybe you can put on a show for me, hm, sweetheart? Since you are so good at it as you said.”

A testy frown tugged at her face, soon to be transformed into one of utmost enjoyment as she ground her hips down against your thigh, gyrating slowly, sensually with her eyes trained wholly on you. 

“Such a pretty slut,” you cooed, lovingly, taken by the way her hips rolled until her movement had mesmerised you, unable to draw your attention from her, not ever wanting to. “All mine.”

“Do you like it, Daddy?” She moaned, breathily, glazed over as she regarded you, her pupils blown, her jaw slackened until it hung wide to draw in shaky breaths. “Am I being, mhm… good?”

Her aura expelled warmth, her form illuminated at its edges like some kind of deity and you vowed to worship at the altar of her if it meant that you could have her like this for eternity. 

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” you assured, tenderly, your hands springing to grope at her breasts, your thumbs sliding over her lace-clad nipples just to watch her rhythm falter, propelled into sporadic chaos. “So desperate to cum for me, hm?”

Emily rutted with ardor, her clit pushing into your thigh with a rapidly mutating pace, her hands flailing to reach out for you, to attain some stability. 

“Gonna cum,” she blurted, mindlessly, her expression overtaken by the forceful craving to come undone, to find alleviation. “Can I cum, Daddy?”

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” you coaxed, intently, your hands sinking against her hip bones as a means of encouragement, observing with delight as she lost control before you, trembling. 

A guttural sound echoed out into the room, her body lurching forward in lethargy as she battled to settle her breathing. You carefully peeled away the sticky strands that obstructed her beauty, her lips painted in sanguine, swollen from the way she had buried her teeth into them so brutally. 

“Have you learned your lesson, sweetheart?” You asked, curiously, a palpable sense of unrest gnawing at you as Emily raised her head, a sly smile of pearly white greeting you. 

“Yes,” she winked, flopping into your embrace, her body aflame as it melded with yours. “And, I agree with you completely,” she clarified. “Bailey really needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut, right?"

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[girlgenius1111]

please.

smut. 18+. alexia has a rough game, and needs something different from r. bottom!alexia

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You knew what Alexia wanted solely from the look on her face as she greeted you after the game. Maybe wanted was the wrong word; the look in her eyes was one of need. It was a rough game, ending in a draw. It should have been an easy win, but no one clicked today. It was likely the sheer amount of games the team had been playing, but that didn’t make anyone feel better. It especially didn’t make Alexia feel better, who took every result that wasn’t a win like a personal failure. She was barely hanging on, and that fact was very obvious to you, so you skipped the post game shower, electing to do it at home. Your girlfriend had sped through her own post-match routine, and was waiting impatiently by the door, ignoring everyone. 

Alexia was an enigma, sometimes. You knew what she needed from you, but watched as she fought herself on it. She shook off your casual touch in the locker room, didn’t hold your hand in the car like she normally did. She didn’t really even speak a word to you when you headed to the bathroom to shower, completely lost in her own thoughts. 

Still, you knew generally what would be waiting for you when you left the bathroom. Some variation of a very vulnerable Alexia, looking at you pleadingly. She always wanted you to do it without making her ask explicitly for what she wanted. You never went along with this, though. Part of what she needed was verbally letting go. Admitting what she needed was very necessary. 

Alexia wasn’t waiting on the bed for you like you expected. No, when you opened the door and stepped into the bedroom Alexia was standing right in front of you, like she’d been pacing there. She was completely naked, a sight that normally you’d take a minute to admire. She moved forward, curling her larger body into yours, and pressing something into your hands. Evidently, Alexia hoped that this wordless gesture would be enough for you. 

“Hey baby,” you murmured, taking the strap out of her hands and into one of yours, allowing your towel to drop to the ground. 

“Amor,” she practically whimpered, so softly you could barely hear it. Her forehead leaned down to press into yours, and you sighed, relishing the close contact. You didn’t love the events that led up to Alexia needing you like this, but you did love when she got like this. So desperate, so needy, only for you. 

“Tell me what you need.” You encouraged, running a hand through her damp blonde hair. Her roots were starting to grow out a bit, back to brown, and you loved the simple imperfection. 

“Please, amor. It is all too much. Por favor, te necesito.”

“What do you need from me?” You asked again. You needed her to let go, give up control, and you could tell by the tension in her jaw and neck that she was still holding onto it. “Tell me, beautiful, and I’ll give it to you.” 

Alexia took several deep breaths, forcing her body to relax, before she spoke. “Take control. Dime que soy buena.” Her words were barely more than a series of hot breaths on your face, and still, you felt a part of you shatter at them. For her to ask for that… you couldn’t begin to conceive how badly she must be feeling, how worthless. You hated how hard she was on herself, more than anything, desperately wished that she would just cut herself some slack, but that wasn’t Alexia. What you could do, though, was what she was asking of you. And you could do it well. 

“Amor, you are so so good, telling me exactly what you need. Get on the bed for me, alright?” She sighed in relief in response, dropping her forehead onto your shoulder before she moved. “Do you need the handcuffs?” 

You left it up to her. Sometimes, she needed to feel you. Other times, she wouldn’t be able to let go without you making her, without restraining her until she had no choice but to beg for what she wanted. 

“Sí” 

Alexia headed for the bed, while you got what you needed out of the drawer. 

“Blindfold?” You asked. 

“No. I need to see you.” She rasped. 

You made quick work of attaching the handcuffs to her wrists, and then to the headboard. She pulled at them almost instinctively as you straddled her. Her head raised eagerly to meet yours in a searing kiss. She fought for control on instinct, but went limp under you when you gripped her face in between your hands. Kissing Alexia was the easiest thing you’d ever done, the easiest thing you would ever do. It was completely instinctual the way your lips molded to hers, the way your tongue fit into her mouth, the way you took her face in your hands like she was delicate, fragile.

She was a complete mess underneath you, acting the way you normally did after she’d teased you for hours. She was kissing you back, hungrily, but little sounds were escaping her mouth at the same time, and she was practically holding herself up off the bed in an attempt to get you closer to her. You could have made out with her forever, truly, but she quickly grew impatient, as you knew she would. 

“Bebè, I need more,” she whined, clearly not content with only kisses from you.

“Do you trust me, pretty girl?” You pulled back briefly, looking intently into her hazel eyes. They were practically pleading with you themselves. 

Alexia shuddered at the phrase, her body twitching under yours. “Yes,” she breathed. 

“Then relax. I'm going to take care of you. I.” You pecked her lips in between words.” Love. Kissing. You. Let yourself feel good, Alexia. You deserve it, you’re my good girl.” 

“I am?” she whimpered, looking at you with an intensity you hadn’t seen from her before. 

It was at this point that you realized a conversation would need to be had later, where you seriously checked in on your girlfriend. This was all about reassurance for her, yes, but never before had she asked you so explicitly to praise her. Pair that with how she was acting even though you’d barely touched her? Something else was going on with her, you were sure. And you’d fix it. Fucking her until she could barely speak was just part of that process. 

“You are. My perfect girl, my best girl. Only mine, sí? All you need to do is relax, and focus on how good I'm making you feel.” 

“Mmm, por favor,” Alexia hummed. She looked almost overwhelmed with need for you, her arms restrained over her head, hips attempting to jerk up into you, but you wanted to take things slow, ease her into it, in case it became too much. 

“You promise to tell me if you need to stop or slow down?” You checked. Alexia could be… difficult sometimes. She was always up for a challenge, and she didn’t like to admit defeat. You were working on getting her to realize that asking for what she needed wasn’t defeat. 

“I promise, amor, please touch me,” she begged. 

You decided to give in, just slightly, and you left a trail of kisses down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, until you came to pause over her chest. Alexia’s nipples were unusually sensitive, and she normally didn’t want you near them, unless she was really far gone. You looked up at her, a question hanging between the two of you, but she didn’t see it, her eyes shut as her hands strained against the cuffs. 

“Amor, do something,” she begged. You stifled a laugh, knowing she likely wouldn’t appreciate it, and rubbed her cheek with your thumb. 

“Tell me what you want, baby,” you encouraged. 

“Here, please,” she requested, pushing her chest up towards your face. You dusted kisses around it, before you leaned down fully, taking her nipple into your mouth and sucking, hard. 

Alexia’s back arched off the bed at the sudden intense stimulation. “Fuck, fuck, sí, amor, sí,” she cried. She was breathing hard, twitching under you. You’d been working at her nipple for less than 20 seconds before she spoke again. “Fingers, amor, por el otro, por favor,” 

You smiled against her, partially granting her request as you switched to her other nipple, and brought your fingers to toy with the one you’d just had in your mouth. 

“Perfecta, perfecta, mi amor, ay dios mío,” she whined, and you released her mouth with a loud pop, focusing now on sucking deep marks into the skin of her chest. 

“No marks, bebé,” she tried, but you frowned at her, shaking your head. She returned your frown, though it looked more like a pout. 

“No. I will leave marks if I want. Because you are my good girl, and everyone should know who you belong to.” You weren’t normally possessive, but you made a note to be more often when you saw the way Alexia’s pupils dilated, and her jaw went slack. 

Her hands pulled hard at the restraints, as she grew more and more needy, and you could see red marks beginning to form on them.  

“Amor, easy on your wrists,” you reminded her, and slowly, her arms relaxed, falling slack in the hold they were in. 

She didn’t relent, though, not really, and she forced her eyes back open, focusing on you.

“Please, cariño, I am so wet. Tócame.”

You leaned up off her, kneeling over her as you very slowly slid down her body, spreading her legs as you did so. You hovered your mouth over her core, practically salivating at how wet she was, her pussy glistening and throbbing already. You’d never seen her this worked up before, and you couldn’t help but tease her, just a bit. 

“You are wet, baby, you’ve already made such a mess. Who is this all for, hmm?” 

Alexia groaned, feeling your hot breath on her. “You,”

“Where do you want me to touch you?” 

Her face flushed a bright red, but she responded nonetheless. “My pussy, amor, please,” 

You had her right where you wanted her, finally, and you got right to work, immediately running your tongue through her, from her hole up to her clit. You licked around, keeping your attention not focused really anywhere specific, not wanting to make her come too fast, knowing that she was likely close already. 

“Mierda,”  she mumbled in a choked voice, grinding her hips up into your face without restraint. You were really just finding a rhythm, just beginning to focus your tongue on her clit when her muscles tensed on either side of your head, and she cried out loudly. 

You froze, stunned that she’d come so fast, with so little stimulation. She must have been even more turned on than you’d thought. 

“Did you just come?” you asked, rubbing a hand up and down her abdomen. 

“Sí amor, lo siento, I could not stop it,” she whimpered, looking almost close to tears. 

You figured the best way to reassure her was to let her know that you weren’t stopping to punish her, so you brought a finger up to tease over her hole, watching as her neck went slack, and her head fell back onto the bed, soft cries spilling out of her mouth. 

“Don’t say sorry, baby. I want you to come, as many times as you need to, whenever you want to, okay?” 

She could only hum in response, hips jerking as you inched your finger into her, finding that it slid in easily. You let it rest inside of her for a minute, not moving, highly enjoying the way her walls quivered around you. 

When you did move, it was rapid, sliding a second finger into her easily and beginning to fuck your fingers in and out quickly. You could sense she was only growing needier, and that she’d want your face close to hers soon, so you took advantage of the remaining time you had eye level with her cunt, and watched as her hole sucked your fingers in eagerly, watched as her thigh muscles tensed, and as she bit her lip. 

It only took a couple minutes before she was tightening around you, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly. 

“Gon-gonna come, fuck,” she whined, trying her best to warn you this time. 

“Come, baby,” you encouraged, and it was only moments before she did, your name falling from her lips repeatedly. Her head twisted, and she bit down on where her arm was held next to her face, apparently unable to stop herself from growing louder. 

“So good, baby, you sound so pretty when you come, don’t you?” You cooed at her, and she whimpered into her arm, her teeth having released the skin they’d captured. 

She was half brainless, and she didn’t really notice when you slid away from her and off the bed. She was too busy trying to focus on your words, focus on the feeling of you inside of her. You kept saying she was good, so… she must be? Right? 

The blonde’s eyes flew open when she felt you bend her knees and push them away from her body, until she was spread open wide for you. You had the strap on, the dildo Alexia normally took attached to it. 

She looked from it, up to your face, clearly reading the question you were asking. 

“Sí, amor, I want it.” She promised, working hard to keep her voice steady even as it shook with anticipation. 

“Good. I’ve wanted to fuck you all week.” You murmured, pressing into her all at once. The moan that escaped her lips was loud and gratuitous, but you knew it was entirely authentic. You knew how to make Alexia come fast with the strap, as that was normally what she needed when you took control, so you angled it just right, gripped her legs in your hands to hold them open, and fucked into her. Hard. 

All that can be heard in the room is the smack of your hips meeting hers, the filthy sound the dildo made as it wetly pumped in and out of her, and the quiet whimpers you were fucking out of Alexia. 

You fucked her right through this orgasm, barely slowing down even when she clenched tight around you and you could barely move. You kept up a soft grind, cooing at her softly as she writhed against the bed, mouth opening and closing as no sound escaped. 

“Amor,” she gasped eventually, “beso, por favor, necesito un beso.” 

You leaned down easily, keeping up your pace, as you kissed her. It wasn’t as hungry as it was before, Alexia barely moved her lips against yours, and you knew she needed the contact more than anything. You pulled away briefly, thanking the universe that you hadn’t played the full 90, and could rely on your thighs and abs to keep fucking her slowly, as you unlocked the handcuffs.  Her arms almost instantly wrapped around your back, insistently pulling you close to her. Her legs wrapped around your back, too, and she buried her face in your neck, until all you could feel was her wetness spread across your waist, and her warm exhales on your neck. 

You sped up again, thrusting deep and hard inside of her, making sure to get the angle just write, as you moved your head to be able to whisper in her ear. 

“You are so perfect, baby. So good when I fuck you. So wet, so tight, so fucking beautiful.”

“Amor,” she cried, her nails clawing marks into your back. You didn’t care, not at all. You only cared about the way your girlfriend was clinging to you so desperately, the way she met your words of praise with such insecurity and eagerness. 

“I want you to come for me, baby, okay? I want you to come on my cock while I’m deep inside of you. Can you do that?” 

“Sí, I am close, so close,” 

“Good, good girl. Do you know how good you are? My girl, you are so perfect. Come for me.” You encouraged, and Alexia reacted to your words exactly as you hoped, body jerking and trembling under yours as she came, her loud moans muffled in the skin of your neck. It lasted for a while and you worked her through it, keeping up your thrusts but slowing them down, until you were stopped, still settled deep inside of her. You made to pull out, but Alexia shook her head insistently, clinging tightly onto you. 

“Stay, please, not yet.” She requested, her voice wavering. 

“Okay, mi amor. Okay.” You allowed, letting your body relax on top of hers, running a few fingers through your hair as you felt her go limp under you, everything relaxing except for her arms still wrapped around your back. 

You weren’t going to let go until she was ready, but at the same time, you needed her to talk to you. You enjoyed being close to her, making her scream your name, as you always did. But you were concerned, more than anything. Whatever was wrong wasn’t something that could be fixed by just sex, so you let her take her time, knowing you would be making her talk when she was a little bit more herself.  ------

part 2 with aftercare? someone take part 2s away from me.

[pearlzier]

Matt and Reader are fwb and reader gets impatient and fucks someone else. Matt finds out and bends her over the nearest surface, taunting her by asking “who fucks you better?”

⊹ 🦴 ࣪ ✶ ˖

"greedy, fuckin', girl," every word is punctuated by a forceful thrust of matt's hips, and followed, after, by the pitiful whine slipping from your lips. you're wrecked, lashes fluttering against your cheeks with every blink as you try to maintain some sense of dignity. fuck dignity, you thought, when you return back to the sensation of his hips slamming against your ass with every movement.

"takin' me for granted, huh?" he coos into your ear, sliding his hands roughly over your chest and groping at your tits, squeezing to grab your misplaced attention. you'd spent enough time not thinking about him, had you not? so he'd make sure the only thing you could think about was him. only think about the way you whimper pathetically when he pulls out only for him to pound back into you moments later.

"after everythin' i've done for you," he may act like you don't affect him, like he isn't obsessed with you, but the way he whines low under his breath as he's got you bent over the arm of the couch, buried deep in your cunt? tells you everything. you know better than that, that he is obsessed, that he wants you to be his despite the whole arrangement. the thought makes you giggle, and you do, causing a groan from matt.

"gigglin' 'n' shit, baby? thought you were too dumb to speak.. maybe i needa' fuck you harder," he grunted quietly as he hiked you forward, fingers grasping at your head gently to let you plant your head in the couch cushion. a soft smile plays on his lips at the sight of your fingers grasping for dear life on the couch. "who fucks you like this? who fucks you better?"

your response was simply wordless whimpers and incoherent mumbles, the sound of skin slapping againsg skin making your brain fuzzy.

the entire, and only reason you were being bent over the couch at this very moment was because you'd been needy and impatient. instead of waiting for matt to get your release you so desperately craved, you'd gone and fucked someone else. you knew it wouldn't be as good as matt and surprise surprise, it wasn't, but you didn't know that matt would find out. or—respond like this. "i asked you a question, baby, c'mon," despite how annoyed he was with you, you could feel how much he wanted you.

"no one fucks me better," you manage, gasping softly when his angle changes and he thrusts even deeper, pathetic sounds escaping your mouth now. "no one, no one.. no one!" you cry out with a whine.

"there we go, there she is," matt wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you back against him, grunting with the movement but also smiling once more at the sight of you. "dick too good to run your mouth? that's it, that's what i thought. no one else," he whispers into your ear with a coo, "just me. say it for me? wanna hear it."

he knows exactly what he's doing—pounding into you like that and expecting you to speak coherently. but he played dirty. very dirty. "just you," you mumble out, "only you."

a smug chuckle slips past his lips, head cocking to the side. the bastard. "just me? only me? you spoil me, baby."

a/n ☆ first time writing smut lolz ! lmk how this is

taglist ★ @onlynextdoor , @junnniiieee07 , @st7rnioioss ۫ .