#sub!hunter

[aynavaano]

Good boy

Kinktober ‘24 - face sitting/submission

Hunter × F!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: You're part of the Bad Batch for a while and the tension between you and Hunter is about to snap.

Notes: This is the first time writing sub!Hunter and I have to credit @bring-backup-99 for making me fall in love with the idea of Hunter subbing. This fic is also meant as a little gift for you, for treating us so well to now already over 50!!! chapters of Bad Choices, I hope you like it. Tags: mutual pinning, sub! and simping Hunter, face sitting, oral f receiving. This is one of a few shorter fics I wrote for Kinktober. If you have any special kink and clone you would love to see, my requests are open.

It started innocently enough - fleeting glances, soft smiles exchanged when no one was looking - but it wasn't long before the tension between you and Hunter became impossible to ignore. He was always there, watching you with that quiet intensity, the unspoken need burning in his eyes. It drove you crazy, the way he hovered close, always attentive, always trying to make sure you were safe and taken care of.

But it wasn't just his protectiveness that got to you.

No, it was the way he looked at you.

Like he wanted to devour you. And that face - his strong, sharp features, that jawline, and his nose. The way his nose curved, slightly prominent and perfectly shaped. You couldn't stop thinking about it. How it would feel pressed between your legs, grinding against you while his mouth worked you over.

You'd fantasized about riding his face more times than you could count, imagining his tongue buried inside you, your hands tugging his hair while you used his nose to rub yourself to climax. His face, especially his nose, just looked so... rideable.

And the way he practically worshiped you with his eyes every time you were around, you knew he wanted it too. He seemed so desperate to please you.

Today the ship was quiet, the others out on a supply run, leaving just you and Hunter alone with not much to do. It had been a while since the two of you had been alone, and the silence between you had grown thick during the last hour, filled with the weight of your unspoken desires.

Hunter paced around the ship restlessly, pretending to do repairs. You watched him from your seat, biting back a smile at how worked up he was getting. He’d been trying to hide it for weeks, the way he looked at you, how his gaze lingered just a little too long. But you saw through him — you always did.

Finally, he stopped, running a hand through his hair he took a deep breath.

"I can’t do this anymore," he admitted, voice rough with frustration. His eyes were pleading, searching for any kind of relief.

You raised an eyebrow, acting innocent. “Do what, exactly?”

He turned to face you fully, swallowing hard before speaking.

“Pretending that there’s nothing happening between us. That I’m not thinking about you every damn second and slowly loosing my mind.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart skip, but you didn’t let it show. Instead, you crossed your legs slowly, watching his eyes flicker down to the movement, and you saw how his throat bobbed as he swallowed again.

“And what do you expect me to do about that?”

His shoulders tensed, you could see how hard he was holding himself back.

“Anything. Whatever you want,” he said, almost breathless. “Just—" He paused, his voice dropping into a desperate whisper, "I need you.”

You leaned back, allowing the power to shift in your favor. The way he looked at you, so raw and needy, sent a wave of heat through you. You had him exactly where you wanted.

“You need me?” you repeated slowly, savoring the way he hung on your every word.

Hunter nodded, his eyes wide, waiting, like a man on the edge, desperate for permission.

“Please,” he rasped.

You took your time, letting him sweat under your gaze.

A smile played on your lips as you stood up, moving toward him, savoring the way his breath hitched with each step. You stopped just inches from him, looking up into his beautiful golden brown eyes.

Hunter let his hands slide up your sides, gripping you like he was afraid you'd slip away.

"Want to see you fall apart for me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, inhaling your scent.

"Want to taste you," he breathed out, the words tumbling from his lips with no hesitation.

The thought sent heat straight to your core, but you didn't plan on making it easy for him. You leaned back, looking into his eyes, enjoying the way he seemed so desperate for your approval.

“Then get on your back,” you said softly, watching the way his body tensed with anticipation, his eyes widening at the command.

“And take off your shirt”

He hesitated for only a second before obeying, stripping the top part of his blacks and lying down on one of the bunks, his eyes never leaving yours. His chest rose and fell rapidly, the anticipation making him tense in every part of his body.

You’ve seen him topless before but he looked even better now, so eager for you, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his caramel skin emphasizing his tattoo running down his chest and you noticed he was already sporting a prominent bulge. His blacks did a poor job at hiding it and you had to bite back a groan. The outline of his cock looked promising.

His broad form was sprawled across the narrow mattress, hands resting casually behind his head and his dark brown locks were slightly tousled but there was a tension in his jaw and the barely-restrained hunger in his gaze was impossible to miss.

You started by pulling your shirt over your head, your skin tingling under his intense stare. His breath hitched, though he stayed silent, watching.

You teased him, unbuttoning your pants slowly, sliding them down inch by inch until they pooled at your feet. Hunter shifted, his eyes trailing down your body.

Your fingers reached behind to unclasp your bra, letting it drop to the floor. The weight of his gaze was almost too much to bear, heat building low in your belly as you felt exposed in the best way.

Finally, you hooked your thumbs into the sides of your panties and slipped them down your legs, standing before him, completely bare.

Hunter didn't move right away, but the look in his eyes said everything - pure, raw need.

You relished the way his eyes darkened with desire, his control slipping as he took in every inch of your exposed skin. The cold air of the Marauder’s ventilation made you shiver, your nipples hardening from the sudden chill. It felt good to have such an effect on him.

With one step you closed the gap between you and reached behind his head to loosen his bandana. Before he could react you snatched it and with one swift motion you ran it through your soaked folds and threw it to the floor.

"Kriff," he growled dangerously, sitting up, reaching for you. "Please…"

“Please what?”

"I want you."

The desperation in his voice, the way he hung onto your every word, made you bolder. You pushed him back down and climbed onto the bunk, straddling his chest, your knees on either side of his head. You could feel the tension radiating off him, his hands hovering near your legs but not quite touching.

"Is this what you wanted?" you teased, leaning down slightly, your pussy hovering just above his mouth.

You could feel the heat of his breath on your skin, his anticipation building with every second but not daring to touch you, not yet.

"Yes," he groaned, his voice thick with need.

His nose brushed against your inner thigh, and you shivered, your body responding to the feeling of his sharp features so close to where you wanted him. And you would get there, but you wanted to drag this out, make him wait a little longer.

“Such a beautiful pussy", he whimpered.

You couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to grind down on him, to ride his nose and make him watch as you used him for your own pleasure.

"I know you've been thinking about it for weeks, devouring me with your eyes", you murmured, running your fingers through his thick, curly hair, tugging slightly and earning a moan from him in return.

"Yes," he gasped, his hands twitching at his sides, "…been dreaming about it too... please, I need you."

“What is it that you want Hunter? Use your words.”

“I want you, want to touch you…to taste you, want to bury my cock in your pussy…I…I…anything…just let me make you come”

“So desperate” you said softly, “If you’ll be good Hunter, maybe I’ll let you fuck me. But first…”

You smiled, your heart racing as you finally lowered yourself onto his mouth, feeling his lips part eagerly and he licked a slow, deliberate line up your folds. His tongue was hot, wet, and perfect, and you let out a shaky breath as the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

"Just like that," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Hunter groaned against you, his hands finally coming up to grip your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you like a man starved. His tongue flicked against your clit, teasing and circling as he sucked and licked, his nose pressing firmly against your mound. The feel of it, the pressure of his nose grinding against you as he worked his tongue deeper, was everything you'd imagined.

“Good boy”, you whimpered and earned a moan from him in return.

You started to move, grinding your pussy down against his face, riding his tongue and nose as he eagerly took everything you gave him. His moans vibrated through you, and you could feel how much he loved this - how much he loved being used, being under you, pleasing you, worshipping you with his mouth.

"Yes," you moaned, lewd sounds falling from your lips, your fingers tightening and tugging his hair as you moved faster, feeling the tension coil tighter in your core.

"You're doing so good, Hunter... so good for me."

His grip on your thighs tightened, his breath coming in heavy pants between licks as he worked harder, desperate to make you come.

"Please come for me," he mumbled, his voice barely audible against your wetness. "Please... let me make you fall apart."

The sound of him begging, his tongue buried inside you, his nose grinding perfectly against your clit - it was delicious. Your hips moved faster, chasing your release as you rode his face, using him for your pleasure. You could feel the tension in your body snap, your orgasm crashing over you as you ground down hard against his mouth.

“Don’t hold back mesh’la, make a mess of me”

"Fuck, Hunter," you gasped, your body trembling as the pleasure surged through you, wave after wave of ecstasy. You could feel him groaning beneath you, his tongue continuing to work you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure.

Before overstimulation settled in you pulled back slightly, still high on dopamine and out of breath. When you peeked down at him he looked absolutely beautiful. His face was glistening with your juices, his lips and chin soaked from devouring you. His eyes were half-lidded, his expression completely blissed out, like he'd just tasted heaven and couldn't get enough.

Your thighs still shook around his head when you slowly came down from your high and lowered yourself onto his chest. You leaned back reaching for his cock, he felt good, big and with a nice girth, you shuddered thinking about how good he would fill you, but you were pulled out of your thoughts when your felt something wet. You glanced down, surprised to see a dark stain spreading across the lower part of his blacks, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he panted beneath you.

He'd come.

He'd come just from eating you out.

You smirked, sliding off of him, watching as he blinked up at you, his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen and glistening with your arousal. You settled in beside him resting your head on his chest.

"Looks like you enjoyed yourself," you teased, brushing a hand over the tip of his cock and the wet spot on his pants. Hunter groaned, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. You nuzzled his neck with your nose, he smelled heavenly.

"I couldn't help it”, he admitted, his voice rough. "You're just... you're so everything I ever wanted."

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“Who would have thought you could be so obedient, Hunter”, you murmured against his lips, letting your fingers trail through the soft hair on his chest.

"Maybe next time... I'm going to ride you properly, I bet that dick is going to feel so good."

His eyes darkened, a satisfied smile curling at the edges of his lips.

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll show you what that dick can do.”

[mooonjin]

im gonna be releasing the comfort hunter fic on the last week of tbb season two T-T

im very sad abt the episodes ended already i cant wait with what happens, look out for that fic!!!

[gods-boxershorts]

I'd say "poor Hunter" but let's be real, we're all enjoying it and so is he. God tier teasing, Roz

Restrained

Sergeant Hunter x fem!reader

Word Count: ~600

Warnings: NSFW 18+, bondage, light marking, oral (m receiving)

A/N: thank you @freesia-writes for the impromptu Hunter event 🥴 hope you enjoy

There were few things that genuinely took your breath away anymore: the sun setting over the ocean or the split second when the stars stretched before jumping to hyperspace. But at that moment, seeing Hunter laid out before you, hands bound over his head, was easily at the top of your list. His eyes were lidded but you knew he was watching you like a shriek-hawk, no movement going unnoticed. 

Hunter’s eyes lifted, looking up at you where you knelt between his legs. A few wisps of hair framed his slightly flushed face and you leaned forward, your breasts drawing his eyes down as you brushed a strand of hair away. His tongue poked out, wetting his lips as he followed the gentle sway of your breasts and you smirked to yourself, dragging your fingers down his tattooed cheek to tap his chin.

“Still okay?” The sound of your voice drew his attention and the bedframe creaked when he tugged on his bindings. 

“Yes,” Hunter murmured, his dark eyes finding yours easily. “I-will you touch me? Please.” You leaned down to press a lingering kiss over his heart, feeling the almost frantic fluttering of it against your lips. Hunter shivered as your lips continued down his chest, the bindings protested again when your tongue slipped out, dragging over his nipple. It was quiet enough that you could almost hear his teeth grinding together. 

Hunter’s cock twitched against your stomach when your lips closed around his nipple, a soft whine forcing its way past his lips as he arched closer. It was a dizzying feeling, knowing he could easily break free but chose not to. He wanted this just as much as you did. 

“Does that feel good?” you whispered, your lips ghosting over the ink covering his chest. The muscles in his stomach jumped again as you moved lower, his hips twitching, pressing his aching cock between your breasts with a soft moan.

“Yes,” he gasped, the single word sounding harsh and forced. You glanced up, admiring how his jaw flexed along with the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

The bedframe groaned again, a bit louder this time, and you waited to see if the bindings would hold. You couldn’t help that you stopped to watch his biceps flex. Hunter tilted his head down, lust-blown eyes zeroing in on your face. He looked utterly disheveled, his hair a bit fuzzy from the pillow and his cheeks seemed pinker than before. You smirked up at him, sucking a mark into the curve of his hip that made his teeth clench.

“Please,” he breathed, the skin around his eyes wrinkling. Hunter’s lips parted as you slid further down his body, gripping the base of his cock. His entire body tensed, his hips lifting off the mattress, pushing the head of his cock past your lips. “Oh Maker.” 

You hollowed your cheeks, earning a high whine from somewhere above you. His breathing was audible now as he tried to contain the urge to thrust into your mouth and you rewarded him by taking him deeper. You paused as he brushed the back of your throat, and gently caressed his taunt thigh, swallowing once. Hunter cried out, a hoarse sound that made you shiver. You held yourself there for a moment before pulling back, sucking on the tip one last time before letting him fall from your mouth.

“Wait, no,” Hunter pleaded, lifting his head. You smiled sweetly and leaned down to kiss his throbbing length.

“You didn’t think I’d be done with you that quickly, did you?”  

You were just getting started.

Taglist: @a-single-tulip @wings-and-beskar @anxiouspineapple99 @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueen @msmeredithrose @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @wolffegirlsunite @clonemedickix

[1800titz]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ & ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ

KNEELING LAMIA | Witch hunter!Harry x Witch!reader

There's too much tension in this cat-and-mouse. Inevitably, it stretches too taut and snaps.

★18+

This is ᴋɴᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ʟᴀᴍɪᴀ for the KINKTOBER projects. Witch x Witch hunter au.

If you enjoy this, consider checking out my patreon masterlist, constantly being updated, with loads of exclusive content. If you would like to see the other KINKTOBER projects and join the taglist for upcoming projects, do so here.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: enemies. p-in-v. degradation. praise. pussy slapping (light). dom/sub undertones. rough sex. bro is simply kind of an asshole, but it's in an attractive way imo.

WC: 3.7K

You hate him. 

You hate him, you hate the grease in his derisory, lopsided smile, the one, two-tick at the corners of his mouth, like an omen on the hollow barrel of a cocked gun. The stupid white straightness of them, slick with spit and glimmering off the glowing oil lantern. 

The soft humanness in his unchiseled eyes. When they’re narrowed into slits, the color is so soft, so delicate, that they don’t feel nearly as sharp as he intends. The preternatural juxtaposition of a human having eyes that are so mesmerizing is absurd— the pink-rimmed oil painting of his irises, mounted in white, under the tarp of his lashes (they’re long, dark, and cast shadows across the green sfumato). You can nearly find sunstones flecking like gold flakes wading the surface of a pool, if you look close enough.

But the bands are eroded now. Lacking. You always thought his eyes were like the moss speckling the grove in your back garden. Now, the vibrancy of it, crawling up the trunks, feels like a distant memory.

Smeared, pupils bleeding wide like spilled ink. 

(You loathe the way his green reminds you of the malachite scattered across your window sill.)

You hate his hands, too. His fingers. The way they notch on reins, and the steel hilt of a gun. The way his pointer stretches across the metal trigger— click— and the way the aim is off. Misses. A bole eats the bullet, and you think, after so many tries, he has to not miss.

He has to not miss.

But he misses, and misses, and misses— the cat and mouse is an old, familiar game, but a fractured part of you thinks he misses on purpose. And you wonder who’s really the cat; when he’ll finally admit you’ve been filling his shoes out in the hunt, long before his time. 

But you hate his hands most because of the way they touch you. The way they feel good. Pinching your bones in place, thumbprints carving into your skin. 

Pressure points— he’s no good with a gun, but he’s good at finding pressure points, scoping them with his fingertips. Squeezing in. 

You hate his teeth, because you hate him, and he hates you, and you want to sweep them off the floor when you fracture every little bone in the composite of his skull with your palms and shatter them out with your fingers. The way they chew into your nipples and stab a crushed squeak out of you. 

(It’s the nature of the game— a double helix. Taijitu. Water and oil. You’re meant to despise each other, because dark has to exist to balance light. There has to be a villain in every story, otherwise the narrative collapses—)

You can’t stand the way his stupidly fat cock splits you on him, around him. The way when he groans, the way it starts as a hum between his ribs, and metastasizes into that yawning pry of his mouth, his soft lips. 

(Conflict. Resolution. Recycle.)

His hand pawing at a handful of your breast, like kneading dough. Testing the heft when it shakes under the pressure of his hips slamming in wet squelches, sack slapping to your sticky cunt. The blunt of his nails scraping down your sides, prying in where your waist tapers, and wrapping the barbs of his fingers around, where the rungs sit at your back, to lug you against him in filthy, wet smacks. Again— again. 

(Fuck, fuck, fuck—)

“—Fuck,” you mewl, scratching out at his temple, fingertips curling into the burnt umber tufts they can reach, pulling, tangling. Scraping. Your thumb grazes his cheekbone. He bites down on your nipple, instead, where he’s been rolling it between his teeth with his tongue, and grunts. It makes you squirm on the table and arch.

When he unlatches and lurches up to loom over you, he looks wild. Like an untamed beast— reminds you of the wolf that lingers by your doorstep— that you’ve lugged along into your kitchen. Let him splay you across the big, oak table that squeals and rattles under the punishing pace he’s set with his hips. 

“Fuck— no,” Harry grunts, and slams your wrist down onto the table, beside your head, your stuttering pulse. Cuffed in his grip. Your fingers twitch. His throat bobs when he swallows.

The tip of his tongue flicks out, drags across his lips, and you think of a scenting serpent. He huffs.

“Ought to declaw you,” he muses, hunching over you, narrowed eyes oscillating from your nails to your face. Voice a husk that oozes condescension. As if you’re an animal— a feral cat that needs its talons extracted. 

“Fuck you,” you spit, and the words— the petulant tone, the way your chest rattles when his cock throbs inside of you— are enough to crook the corners of his pink mouth. Wry. Acid across his lips, in the ridges between his teeth. 

He sticks his thumb in your mouth, but not really; presses in against the flat of your front tooth when you bare your canines, squeezing at your cheeks. Pressure points— under the side of your mandible, beneath your cheekbone.

“Better watch that mouth,” he taunts. When his eyebrows climb, three ruckles seep across his forehead. Maybe evidence of how he means it, how firm his resolve is, but the way he tips his head down at you, it's goading—

Your chest rolls. “Fuck— you.”

And you get it. You do. Coexisting is an absurd, incompatible fantasy. Deluded, when you cup your teeth around the world and still feel hungry. It only stretches so wide before he’s under your teeth, too, and nobody wants to live in a hungry, sharp mouth. It’s a means of resource. Sanctum; I want sanctum, and you my friend, are preventing that like gum jammed into a lock on a gate. 

This slow dance is called perfect, incongruous symbiosis, like a winter coat and the hot sun. You don’t fit together. You’ll never work— not in tandem. 

It’s just that he doesn’t get that it’s the circle of life.

A snake and a mouse. That works. It’s unpleasant, but it doesn’t have to be watched. 

But it’s ugly. You get the angry men with the pitchforks. You get him— vigilante, here to stab the head off the python with a wooden stick and wring his hands out after, like the hero he’ll be if he manages to tame the beast (glorified pest control— snub the snake in the backyard). You accepted a long time ago that all the little people would get mad that you were eating their little people. 

Nasty, vicious thing in the back garden— get rid of it.  

But hey— that’s life. The ugly, vicious wasp nest dangling off a poplar tree deserves to exist, too, because that’s the anomalous, hideous shape mother nature’s hand squeezed it into. And that’s, you think, the disconnect. The electrical cord spitting white-hot, fizzing sparks from where it’s been gnawed down the middle.

You swallow. His eyes are blade-sharp. So unco. Contemplating, calculating.

You get all that. What you can’t wrap your mind around is the untethered snap between you, like a bungee cord lugging you into a collision. It makes you feel feverish. The fracture in the foundation below you, every atom bred from this, predestined narrative. The sizzle beneath your skin— a charred brand in the shape of his kiss under the layers of your dermis— (a lowly mimicry of what lovemaking is, all teeth). It’s brutal. Sharp. A skirt of canines across your collarbone. A notch across the bone. A means to satiate, a compound of loathing, and pining, and the cozening haze of desire. The yearning curdled in the spiral of the communal pool of your animosity.   

Because he smells like the rain rapping across your roof when you stand out with the door propped, sticking to the fireweed in rivulets under your porch steps. Like suede. Musk. The wilting coriander sprig on your altar. Your resolve is wicker snapping under his thumb. A melting glacier under the heavy heat dripping from his eyes. You don’t like it. You can’t get enough.

You tip your chin up and his thumb snags on the blunt edges, smushes into your lower lip. When his heavy cock slips out of you and slaps up against his belly, a whine prickles at the back of your mouth. You encase it with your throat like a dirty secret left to write on paper. You won’t whine for him. But he’s thick. His cock is stupidly fat, and it throbs like he can feel the encroaching emptiness between your legs for himself. 

You won’t whine, but you feel hollow, and it makes your hips cant up involuntarily. Forward. To him— you hate that— but the stamp of his palm to your cunt makes your thought process crumble apart like notes plummeting off their bars on a sheet of music. A smack of skin on skin is the aria of your twisted affection stretching and collapsing. 

It doesn’t hurt. Not really. There’s a dull pang that blooms there, under his touch, but it feels smothered under the white-hot lightning streak of shock that jolts your shoulders and sculpts your face. The mortified, blistering heat that spumes your cheeks when the whites of your eyes pool a little wider. You flounder up at him wordlessly. 

Harry hums. It’s haughty, and mocking, and it makes something ripple in your underbelly. “Say that again, little girl?”

You swallow. Squirm. The pseudonym has something bristling in your chest. You’re not a little girl. This thicket has belonged to you for hundreds of years. 

But the warm prickle between your thighs is an ugly, ugly paradox. 

And you hate the way his hand is this humongous thing between your thighs, across your sex, swallowing your smarting cunt in the cup of his palm. The way he leaves it where it landed. His thumb stretched out and lingering in the crease between your mons and your tucked up thigh. You hate the way you drool slick against his fingers, the way your clit pulses under the heel of his hand. Your chest rolls. 

His amusement is acidic. Patronization sloshes off his eyes and burns a hole right through the layer of your mettle when he cocks his head down at you, the way your hips hitch. His lips twist. “Oh you liked that, did you?”

Your face pinches. The corners of your lips curl down despite the way your empty pussy flutters under his skin.

“No."

He makes a sound. A hum that granulates into a rich chuckle, and his eyes flicker off your face, to his hand, and back, and back. Something brews in the depths under his lashes, you think— a sinkhole cratering into the ground beneath the canopy of the woods, driving the forest ground out into a void— watching the breadth of his hand envelop between your thighs. Maybe at the molten heat, or the way he can undeniably feel you clenching up. Throbbing. Against him. For him. 

“Is that right? Look at that, mm— drippy, little pussy,” Harry tells you, voice hardly over a whisper. The words are a livewire zigzagging up your spine, riding the arches of the knobs, spilling something noxious and cloudy along your cerebrospinal fluid. 

It goes straight to your head. 

“Needy, little cunt. Bet you could cum just from me slapping it.”

His middle finger grazes your asshole. Your toes curl, you can’t even argue, despite the vitriol puddling on the back of your tongue like stagnant water. He tips his head. Smiles. The flash of teeth carves an ache into you that makes your bones ring.

“Aren’t you… just the sweetest thing when you’re put in your place,” Harry murmurs down at you, eyebrows climbing, and he’s— unctuous. A headache. The kind that clusters around the arch of your skull and squeezes taut like a bundle of rubber bands. Talking down to you like you’re a wily thing for him to put into a corner, once and for all. Like your demesne isn’t stamped in his soggy footprints, layer after layer, year after year.

You bare your teeth and jut your chin defiantly, but then he drags his thumb down along your pebbled clit, and it makes your shoulders wobble. 

You used to cut hunters down like the loggers muscling in on your timber. Hatred was a pearl folded into your heart. A bead tucked into the soft, fleshy tissue between the little pockets of your ventricles, and it stung like a splinter in your gums. 

You wear it in your chest like his name shaved into a rib. The perfect harmony of dysfunction. You don’t know why being under him kindles a flame. Just that it does. He’s live coal, and you crackle over what he gives you.

The moment of reticence between you has that shattering weight of your little truce, and you’re reminded of the plunge from the hillscape of your dignity. 

Maybe it’s worse that you don’t mind. 

His shoulders swell. You like the spit-slick rim of his mouth, the way the color is an insignia of your teeth making landfall. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl?”

When he plants his hand beside your ear and stretches forward a little more, his cockhead slips across your clit. Hot, like a firebrand coated in sateen. You curl your fingers and realize your wrist is still pinned down. His eyes sway to it like he knows what you’re thinking, and his mouth twitches.

“Gonna keep your hands to yourself?” Harry purrs, grunting when you roll your chin away in scorn. 

“Because��“ His finger prods onto your cheek. Then, two. Under your jaw, enough pressure to turn your head. “You know I love that wild shit. But, can’t have you fucking up my pretty face—“

The humor coagulating his tone tastes bitter when you breathe it from the air. Swallowing it down into your lungs where it ghosts with the subatomic heaviness of want. Your eyes flit. You hate him— you hate—

He grins down at you. Not quite. Close-lipped, eyes vats that shelter his dogma. The intensity of his seriousness. “Can’t do that,” he muses, but his tone is softer than his countenance. 

You look away. And you don’t watch it, but he huffs, like he’s losing patience for your still-not-quite-subservience and lack of zeal. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath. Hums. 

“Mm. Come on, doll. You know I don’t want you if you don’t want me,” he tells you, but his mouth crooks because he knows— he knows. 

You blink up at him. His eyes burn down at you from the bridge of his nose, and it feels like you’ve been swaddled into a sudden, wet heatwave. The words would nearly be considerate if it wasn’t for the condescending undertow that spills under the vowels like an oil slick. 

His pointer traces the corner of your mouth, brows furrowing as he tails the motion with his gaze. “Just you say the word.”

And despite the way you blister, something itching under your skin, you won’t. Your teeth are clenched, but you couldn’t pry them apart with pliers to turn him down, not with the fever spilling its way across you. You settle for contempt— let it set your face like a cast congealing, but he doesn’t chase the tail of your indignation with anything beyond mockery. 

He stares back at you. Doesn’t let it wither, drowns in the deluge of your inkpools, mouth curling but-not-quite. 

“No,” he sighs, after a beat of your lull— bereft of your protest— drawing his forefinger away and slinking it down the naked space of your sternum, then around your swollen nipple. You gnaw into your cheek. “You know what I think?”

“—I don’t care,” you pick your head up to hiss. 

You expect to face something crumbling at the retort. Discipline. Retribution— to watch something clot inside of him the way it wads in your chest, caking gravity across his features because— need to be taught a lesson in respect. What did I say about watching that mouth? 

But it flickers over him without a hitch. Slides off. 

Instead, he doubles down, hunching back over you. “I think you love this cock too much. Don’t you? Got you wrapped around it, by now.”

The flame from your core licks up to flare at the apples of your cheeks. He breathes when he straightens out. Deep. Like the prelude to a sigh, and you wonder if the same burning kisses along the nooks of his lungs. You don’t say anything, and he pulls his hand back.

“That’s right,” Harry coos, cocking his head down at you, “Just a sweet, cockdrunk, little whore, by now.”

Your eyes narrow into thin slits. Dagger splits. The wobble in your voice is a swordblade. “Shut— up.”

He laughs. Laughs. This muted, soundless thing that manifests more in his shoulders, the jolt across their breadth. The crater beside a smile line. He shakes his head, and cups the root of his cock with his fist. Your eyes follow it. You swallow.

“Mm, no,” he muses, gaze pooling where the mushroomed ridges of his tip slide along your sopping rim, your puffy lips, your clit, “I think you like it. Gushing all over the table.”

Embarrassment ties its tendrils along the base of your throat. Cogon grass germinating and feathering out across your esophagus, until you’re choking on your spit. You grit your teeth. Your hips nudge up. Forward. He underscores the presumption by pulling the head of his cock back, and sundering the string of tacky slick that’d stretched between him and your seam.

“Makin’ a fucking mess with your messy, desperate pussy,” Harry tells you, pressing his index to his thumb and prying them apart for emphasis. Your slick shimmers in the light. “Look at you. There’s a fuckin’ puddle.”

Your face creases. Cheeks buzzing, white-hot. You feel yourself leaking down along the cleft of your ass, and your fingers itch. A thunderbolt streaks across when you recognize that your hand is still flat against the table. Just where he left it. 

He aims his cock back against you, so thick in his palm, and murmurs, “You want it?”

You don’t know how you ended up here.

You do, but the motions between point A and B feel like a nebulous smear. Hands in motion. Fabric tangling across the floor. Teeth, and tongues, and bones, and claws.

(“Always liked an older woman,” you remember he told you, tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. The hubris of a boy sewn into the shoulders of a man. The irony of your preternatural youth folded into his proposition as his eyes roamed across your face.)

(“So let’s put …this,” a motion between with a jutted finger, a murmur drizzled in allure, tucked like a secret into the shape of the night, “aside for a time-out, you and me.”)

You don’t know why you said yes. How. Why your body reacts like he’s a breath you need, whispering along your lungs. Why you let him unspool you over his fingers, his tongue, fucking into you like he was starving. 

But you nod.

You nod, and he presses his weepy tip against your cunt, and it only takes a nudge for him to pry you open around him again. Enveloping him. Sloppy, little pussy pulsing over the tip like a frenetic heartbeat. 

You turn your chin and bite into your own shoulder to stifle the mewl spiraling between your tonsils, and he groans. The sting is better the second-go, but the pressure of having your rim stretched taut anew doesn’t lose its edge. The ache settles in your underbelly. Flourishes in the molten geyser of your arousal. 

“Oh, shit,” Harry hums, pasting his palm flat to your tummy, right over your navel. Like this, you can feel his fingertips under your heartbeat. Across it. Thrumming. His eyes glued to where you swallow up his cock.

He feeds his cock into you slow, but it feels incongruous. The pastiche of what you’re feeling is already enough to cloud your head into delirium— you want teeth. Tongues, bones, claws. 

“Harder,” you grit, catching his eye when he stalls, hand braced across your waist. You resolve paints your words firm, “I can take it.” 

For a moment, Harry stares down at you. The whiplash of pause morphing to taunt, like a seamless rebound, has your rim fluttering over his girth. “My, my. Aren’t we eager.”

“Just—“

Your cosm ripples around you when he drives his hips forward, and lugs you back, hips colliding with your skin in a smack. A horrible, wet sound when he crams his way in, wedging your fuss back into the depth of your stomach. It flings you off your rationale. 

He shivers. “God, you’re slutty. Slutty pussy on a slutty witch.”

The pace he sets is brutal. Merciless. It caters to your complaint, and squashes it out under his thumb. Under the kiss of his tip to your womb. Deliriously, you think he’s going to spill his hot, thick load inside of you, and then what? Then, what?

It feels like he’s wringing you out between his hands, until all that’s left is a pool of want. 

You hate the way he’s chiseled in a place for himself. A tern across your branches, nested in twine and spare filaments of organs that belong to you. A little sinew peeled off of your liver. A sliver off your lung. Maybe that’s why—

You suck in a tight breath and let it rattle the nest he’s built, when he hits something unfathomably deep inside of you. Plugged on his cock, there’s no way for you to smother your moans out. He batters in to the hilt, cupping you by the waist, and rocking you back onto him, over, and over, and over. 

“I want this sweet pussy to cum around my cock,” he pants over you. A curl has flopped across his eye, and your ire is eclipsed by your yearning. The ball inside of you unspooling as if he’s peeling the layers of muscle on your heart back like an onion to temporarily pluck out the undiluted loathing. “Do you hear me?”

It’s a mindless motion— your fingers creeping to land over where you connect, where he’s splitting your gummy walls to what feels like their ceiling. But he bats your hands away, and rams into you until your mons is kissing the wiry bed of hair that’s smattered over his shaft.

“It’s gonna cum around my cock,” he grunts, “or it’s not gonna cum at all.”

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[niilue]

pounding sub!illumi to oblivion as we readers watch his emotionless facade fall. he’s moaning out and sobbing for more and that’s exactly what we give him until he’s moaning/whining out of overstimulation. you can add whatever more you want to this!

have a good day!💗

ෆ    ִ      ׁ   sub illumi

cw: dom!reader, male top, breeding kink, voice kink, illumi needy and vocal

illumi's emotionless facade had always been his defining trait, a mask of stoicism that rarely, if ever, faltered. but now, that mask was crumbling. you had him pinned beneath you, his body trembling as you pounded into him relentlessly. his long black hair clung to his sweat-slicked skin, and his usually impassive face was contorted in pleasure.

each thrust elicited a moan from illumi, the sound growing louder and more desperate with every movement. his voice, usually so controlled, was now a symphony of whimpers and sobs, a melody that spurred you on. you knew exactly how to break him, and you reveled in the power you held over him.

"more," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. "please... more."

you obliged, increasing your pace, driving into him with a force that made the bed creak. his legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, deeper. every thrust pushed him closer to the edge, his body quivering with the intensity of it all.

"look at you," you murmured, leaning down to kiss the tears from his cheeks. "begging for it like a good boy."

illumi's eyes fluttered open, wide and glassy with need. the once cold, emotionless gaze was now filled with a raw, unfiltered desire. he moaned louder, his hands clawing at your back, leaving red marks in their wake. he was a moaning, whining mess, his voice a mixture of broken cries and breathless pleas.

"please," he sobbed. "please, i can't..."

but you didn't let up. you kept going, pushing him beyond his limits, watching as his composure shattered completely. his moans turned into screams, his body writhing beneath you as he came, his orgasm ripping through him with a force that left him trembling.

but you weren't done. not yet. you continued to thrust into him, even as he whined in overstimulation, his body convulsing with every movement. the overstimulation was exquisite, his mind a blur of pleasure and pain. he could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, and the only thing that escaped his lips were broken cries and sobs.

"you wanted this," you reminded him, your voice a low growl in his ear. "you begged for it."

he nodded weakly, unable to speak, his body completely at your mercy. you leaned down, pressing your lips to his ear. "i'm going to fill you up," you whispered. "breed you until you can't take anymore."

illumi's eyes rolled back in his head at your words, another sob escaping his lips. the thought of being filled, claimed, bred— it drove him wild. he was lost in the sensation, his body a puppet to your desires.

you felt him tighten around you, and with one final, powerful thrust, you came, filling him with your seed. the sensation pushed illumi over the edge once more, his body convulsing as he came again, his voice hoarse from screaming.

you stayed like that for a moment, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies entwined. then you pulled out, watching as your cum dripped from his spent body, a proof to your domination.

illumi lay there, his chest heaving, his face flushed and tear-streaked. he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. he was a mess, a beautiful, broken mess, and you knew you had pushed him to his limits.

but he had wanted it. he had begged for it. and you had given him exactly what he craved.

[goryhorroor]

horror sub-genres: mythological

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini, what about vampire Fyodor x vampire hunter reader (〜^∇^)〜 like you’ve been assigned to hunt down and bring the head of Fyodor Dostoevsky to uhh.. a king idk.

So you track Fyodor down and instead make a deal with him. You won’t kill him and actually let him feed off you and he lets you fuck him (ゝз╹)

At first he’s hesitant. A well ranked hunter coming to him and proposing a friends with benefits arrangement sounds pretty suspicious, but hearing the offer that you let him feed off you makes him agree since it’s an easy meal and he was planning on betraying you later on.

Thats until he’s bent down on all fours and being pounded like wild animals in heat. The vampire is so touch starved that he can’t handle the pleasure and tries biting anything he can (let’s just say you were left with a bunch of bite marks) After that experience he traps you in his manor and begs you to stay with him, maybe he turns you into a vampire as well

-🍮

I had so much fun writing this haha, and I had to brainstorm trying to fill in some plot holes

Dom!reader x sub!vampire!fyodor

Warning: teasing, pet name (lil’ vamp), pegging (I use dick), a tiny bit of dacryphilia, biting, hierophilia (blood), vampirism, contract sex

Edit: I think I’m based towards fyodor, this ended up so long again-

You were a mercenary, one specified in hunting down those bloodsucking monsters known as vampires. Your name was infamous among the humans and vampire race, known for your amazing methods and efficient execution. Though you don’t care much about fame, the only good things about it is it lands you many missions. Which is why you’ve been summoned to the castle of a faraway country, one that resides close to a forbidden forest.

These mysterious forests are strictly forbidden due to vampires living within them. It’s always dark and quiet in those places, befitting their taste. So you might think it’s alright if people just don’t go into the woods. Sadly something like that can’t be prevented. There are many valuable resources beneath these trees, and everyone is dying to get their hands on those. The price for material from the forest is also really high, and sometimes that’s the only hope for the commoners.

Even though it’s been agreed upon that humans shall not disturb the vampires for they own safety, your client, the king, wanted to raid the forest. He had his eyes set on the wood planted around the mansion of the monster, it had a beautiful dark colour and was very sturdy. Yet out of fear for the power of the entity, he didn’t dare set a single foot into the woods. That’s when you come into the spotlight, he wanted you, the most famous vampire hunter, to take care of this. Once the vampire is gone, he won’t be breaking any rules, right?

This was a common case for you, everyone used you to do their dirty work. That’s the life of a mercenary, disposable and self-destructive.

You walked through the lavish halls of the king, meeting him in his throne hall. He didn’t spare you more then one glance, shouting loud enough for his voice to bounce off the walls, “y/n, vampire hunter. I have an honorary task for you. I want you to bring me the head of the demon Fyodor Dostoyevsky and for that you’ll be greatly rewarded.”

Despite it sounding grandiose and imposing you knew how to stand your ground, asking for the exact amount you’ll be rewarded and an advance payment. The king on the other hand refused to answer, saying he doesn’t want you to run off with the money. What a joke, your previous feats aren’t just for show after all. There was no helping it, that’s life. You swallowed your anger and left, rolling your eyes as you prepared to set off.

The home of that demon was grande, almost as huge as the castle, he sure loved luxury. You circled around the house to secure your escape route before heading inside, the door opened with a climatic creak. What a cliche, does vampires not know how to take care of their home? Without sparing it too much thought, you stepped inside and called out for that monster, wondering why the ruler knew his name. They must have a long history between them.

“Fyodor! Heyyy, come out, do me a favour and make this easy.” You yelled, and soon enough, a shadow emerged from behind you. Before you got the chance to turn around, he mumbled with grace and elegance, “Y/n, the vampire’s greatest enemy. The one who pulled out the fangs of Dracula with your bare hand, and forced him to drink the blood of his comrades.” A shiver ran down your spine at his voice, it was low and pretty, enough to stir something inside you.

“That’s an exaggeration, I never did such things.” You turned around and chuckled, staring into his purple eyes. Before you stood a black haired young man with a puffy shirt and fitted pants. He wore many silver accessories, tons of necklaces hung around his neck. His appearance was very eye-catching, pretty features and pale skin, sickly so. “…but I may have a record of flirting with the enemy.” After seeing how beautiful he was, you decided to indulge yourself, flirting with him.

He didn’t pay your words any attention, instead he continued with his speech, “Mortal children strived to be like you, while we use your stories to scare the kids.” You stopped, a sense of pride engulfing you from the inside. “My, I am quite famous after all.” Fyodor furrowed his brows, as if he’s agitated, then he relaxed his expression and said, “I knew you’d come for me one day. And, I’m dying to try out your blood.” After saying that, he licked his lips before covering his mouth with his hand.

You laughed, catching him off guard. The sound of your voice was annoying, he felt like you were mocking him. Then you teased, “dear, do you really think you can touch my blood?” That was clearly a provocation, you looked down on him. He clicked his tongue, glaring at you. The moment you blinked, he rushed over to you, planning on taking you out with one swoop attack. You dodged him with ease, commenting, “not bad, but is this all?” And he ignored your remarks once more.

Seeing how serious he was, you’ll have to stop the joking soon as well. To be honest you weren’t in the mood for fighting, which is why you suggested, “How about this, fyodor-” “I didn’t give you permission to use my name.” He snapped, showing his fangs. “…then, lil’ vamp it is.” You chuckled, noticing how that pet name annoyed him further. “How about a deal? I’ll spare your life and you can have as much of my blood as I’m able to give you.” His pointy ears perked, intrigued by this proposal. It sounded enticing, but there’s nothing for free in this world.

“And what do you get out of this?” Fyodor asked, keeping his distance. He wasn’t going to heed the rules of a deal anyway, especially when made with a human. “Allow me to be a bit crude, but I want you to sell your body to me.” The boy froze in place, eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Were you aware of the implications of your own words? Was this another one of your mockery, your way of insulting him? “What makes you think I’d agree?” He questioned you, staring at your face with his scarlet eyes, trying to read you.

“I’m simply proposing a deal, you can decline or agree, it’s up to you.” Somehow you managed to sound unbothered and cheery despite the situation. No matter how fyodor wanted to decline, he knew this was his chance. If you fought with him seriously, he would eventually lose. Now, with you giving him new opportunities, he had to take them and put it to good use. “I’ll accept this for now, so, show me how sincere you are.” The demon demanded, and you answered with, “my pleasure, please show me to your room.”

Who would have known a day like this would come, where he got shoved into his own room, pinned to his own bed and humiliated in front of a human. It didn’t take long until you got him bend over on all fours, face pressed into his soft pillows. Any of his attempts to overpower you were futile, because you were physically stronger than him. That allowed you to pretty much manhandle him, denying him access to your neck. Once you got him into this vulnerable position, you didn’t held yourself back, asking him one last time if your deal still stands. After he nodded, you went all in.

Now you were breathing heavily while slowly entering his hole. His rim was tight and didn’t allow you any entrance, but you stayed stubborn, gently pushing your way in. “You are so tight, lil’ vamp.” You muttered, occasionally glancing over at him to see how well his reaction is. “Nghhh…! S-slow down, it hurts!” Fyodor groaned, cheeks flushed red as he realized the situation he was in, and that he never shared such intimate moments with anyone before. “…if I go any slower I wouldn’t be moving anymore.” You tried to reason with him, leaning down to press your body against his.

“HnnGh… t-then pull out…” He snarled, glaring at you while he felt your skin against his back, pressing him down, reminding him of your presence. How did things turn out like this? Why was he participating in such vulgar acts with his greatest enemy…? “Do you want me to? Then you won’t get my blood as well.” You whispered into his ear, licking his earlobe and the earring he wore. “Ha-haahhhH…! No, d-don’t.” The boy gasped, and you weren’t sure what he meant. But he seems to be enjoying himself, so you continued.

His hands gripped the white sheets with all the remaining strength he had, his ass reddened as he struggled to take you whole. That poor guy’s entire body was shivering, shaking as he tried to get used to this pressing sensation inside him. He could feel you stretching him apart, rubbing against his squishy walls. You smiled as you observed his efforts, one hand clasped over his hand as you intertwining your fingers with his. He had sharp nails, you could even call them claws. So you were worried that he’d poke holes into his sheets.

Your other hand explored his body, trailing down his spine with your fingertips, brushing over his body as if you were caressing a flower. “Hmm..! Uh-uhhng..! It f-feels weird..” It tickled him, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable, at least he thinks it wasn’t. Next, you stroke his silky hair before grabbing his hip and mumbling tenderly, “you are doing good, don’t worry I plan on being nice for today.” What do you mean for today…?

Soon, your hips met with his, and you stopped moving until you were sure he was alright. “Good job.” You said, rubbing his blushing cheeks slightly. Then you held your wrist right in front of him, inviting him to bite you, giving him your approval. Without any once of hesitation, he sunk his teeth into your flesh, sucking viciously. He was feeling so weak from your actions, he needed that replenishment. Since he was distracted, you took that chance to start moving again, making sure to take your sweet time. Well, he looked like he’d break if you weren’t gentle with him. He had such a slim and frail physic after all. Just look at his waist, it’s so skinny you fear you could accidentally break him into two pieces.

Fyodor suck on your wrist, mind getting cloudy from the taste of your sweet blood. It tasted amazing, and it made him feel all foggy inside. As if he was getting drunk on it, addicted even. He made sure not to waste a single drop, lips pressed against your skin while he gulped down more and more of your vitality. Apparently he was so distracted he didn’t notice you pounding his cute ass, not until it was too late. You fucked him slowly but roughly, each time you’d thrust yourself as deep inside him as you could, feeling him clench around you so sweetly.

“HnMnh, nghh…” the vampire only whimpered meekly as he sipped your blood contently, feeling pleasure blossom everywhere inside him. You eventually quickened your pace, now rutting into him without any care in the world. It was instantly met with his mewling, a high pitched noise as he screamed in ecstasy. Fyodor couldn’t pull his thoughts together, tongue hanging out as some tears rolled down his face.

Then you pulled your wrist away from him, saying, “that’s enough for now. If you want more, you gotta work hard.” His eyes bore such a pitiful look as he begged you for more, face melting as he moaned around you, some of your blood sticking to his lips. “Ahhh… it felt so good, I-i don’t wanna stop..” he admit, hands shaking underneath you, his primal urges kicking in, infesting his desires and hunger.

“What is it that you want, fyodor?” The way you voiced his name made his knees go weak, tremble even. He panted heavily, trying to fill his lungs with air, to keep his composure. “I-I want more blood… I want your blood.” You smiled, seeing him so desperate fed into your own desires. And you felt like if you denied him any longer he was going to cry, considering his eyes were getting watery already. “Then come here, lil’ vamp.” You told him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you as you sat up, positioning him in your lap.

His first response was to whine as he arched his back forwards, legs turning into pudding as his hands shakily let go of the sheets, now clutching your thighs. “Ah-nGhh.. it’s so- so deep inside me.. it’s so foreign..?” Out of nowhere you turned him over, and he wanted to immediately bite your neck, but you covered his mouth with your palm. “Not yet.” As soon as he understood what you wanted, he wrapped his arms around your neck, bouncing up and down your dick like he was in heat. Your hand was still over his lips, so his moans all got muffled as they seeped through, “mHhnff, HnnGh, hmm…!!”

He rode you with fever and need. On one hand because he needed you and your blood on a carnal level, on the other hand due to him starting to enjoy getting fucked by you. After a while you took your hand away from him, now squeezing his waist with both hands, guiding his movements. Fyodor nuzzled against your neck, pleading with you, hoping you’d let him have some of that delicious red liquid again. “Y/n.. ah-huuHhn~ l-let me fed off you..? P-please..♡♥︎～?” You giggled to yourself, entertained and delighted, duty all pushed to the side as you said, “go on, take as much as you need.”

Needless of say, you two shared a long night together, and somehow, both of you ended up in endless love bites. Ops, what’s this? Oh no, his door is stuck! It must be because it’s so old~ oh no, seems you’ll have to stay at the mansion longer than expected… and his impending heat is coming up ♡

My friend send me this after I told them what I was writing haha

[the-black-manor]

Little pet that's too shy to ask to have their intestines rearranged, so they sit between my legs and nuzzle at my cock instead, getting me worked up until I can't control myself anymore, pin them down, force myself inside, and breed them deep.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Subby Bunny!Kurapika headcanons...?👀

Subby!Bunny Kurapika HCs NSFW

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warning: breeding, pegging, creampies

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

-he HATES people touching his bunny ears and cotton tail… but when you do it’s the most soothing thing ever. He can fall asleep from you gently petting his ears alone

-always wants to breed, but he’s insatiable during mating season. he’s always hard, whining and rubbing his red cock against your ass until you let him breed you!

-such a baby… gets mad and fussy if you tease him, and cries if he doesn’t get his way when he’s all needy.

-so snuggly… when he’s not out on a mission, he’s curled up with you, getting pouty and grumpy if you try to get up.

-pegging him… he whines and whimpers, his cock leaking as you fuck his cute hole… and he says he just wants to breed you, but he’s begging for you to keep going…

-holding him in your lap and making him bounce on your strap while you stroke his cock… he feels all embarrassed but he looks so damn cute!!!

-tug on his bunny ears while you’re fucking into him from behind and he’ll let out a breathy moan…

-he likes when you keep his cockwarm. he’ll melt, kneading you and purring as he buries his face in your neck. feeling your pussy squeeze around him will make him whimper…

-so needy, for all of your attention and affection. he gets jealous easily, stomping his foot and puffing out his chest, ready to defend his mate

-he seems so cold and uncaring to most, but behind closed doors he’s your sweet, needy bunny!

[l1tw1ck]

Saw you write for hxh, I was wondering if you could do something with Feitan x dom male reader, anything. There’s barely any content like that.

sub!bottom!ftm feitan x dom!top!male reader

this super duper short, srry

cw: mild dub-con, rope bondage, aphrodisiacs, nipple play, creampie

Feitan wakes up in an unknown bedroom, naked and wrapped in black ribbons. He looks up at you in confusion, his vision blurry and cheeks flushed. “What's going on?”

You look at the card attached to the end of the ribbon and chuckle. ‘Merry Christmas – Chrollo’. “Looks like Chrollo sent me a late Christmas gift.” You lick your lips. “Can't believe you've been hiding a body like this all this time.”

He realizes what's going on, his body growing even hotter. He's definitely been drugged but he can't say that his attraction to you is only because of the aphrodisiac coursing through his body. He wants this. He smirks. “Merry Christmas then, [Name].” He spreads his legs.

Feitan moans loudly, tears streaming down his cheeks as you ram into his wet cunt. You litter kisses and bites along his body, grinning when you hear him whine from biting his nipple. You lick the hardened bud and earn more whines and whimpers from Feitan. You use your hand to show love to his other nipple. He digs his nails into his palms and comes with a loud shout, his soft walls flexing around your cock. You pull away from his chest and bring him into a kiss while you continue fucking him. Thanks to the drug, he’d be upset if you did stop.

You finally slow down and come inside of him. Feitan smiles happily at the warm, gooey feeling inside him.

[past-the-comfortzone]

"Think I'm getting butterflies but it's really

something telling me to run away"

Still frames below the cut ❁

thought I'd give bright neon colors a try. It was fun but I think I'll be sticking to pastels

[rayveneyed]

cw: sexually explicit content / blood / relatively light sadomasochism / age + experience gap (reader is older + more experienced) / sub!choso / vampires 🧛‍♀️ / sex and violence as two sides of the same coin /

choso kamo is 160 years old when he meets you.

in those years of walking the earth, undead, he believes he’s embraced his vampirism as much as he possibly can. the broiling self-hatred he had once found solace in has reduced to a simmer, strongest in those moments of blood and guts and weakening heartbeats; and although he often avoids crowds, and companionship, and light, he no longer believes himself to be a slave of his own nature.

to be true — in the grand scheme of immortality, of vampirism — he isn’t anywhere close to the level of control he’d wish to have. often, when indulging yuji’s desire to enjoy the world as he did before his death — boardwalks and arcades and cotton candy — he feels his canines aching in his gums, stretching until they dimple against his bottom lip.

it’s not comfortable. it’s not confident. but even despite the growing aches, he’s no longer cowering in alleyways; no longer drinking from poor stray cats and garbage-chewing rats to momentarily satiate that ever-growing, gnawing hunger. he has some sense of control—

“oh, you baby-bats. so adorable.”

control which he now flounders to grab.

a sharp, inky black nail scrapes up the column of his neck — he can’t help but arch into it, head tilting back until his wide, pupil-blown eyes find the ceiling, with its intricate coving and obsidian chandeliers. the music from the main hall is nothing but a buzzing in the back of his head; thoughts of his friends’ whereabouts, an afterthought. your fingernail crowds the underneath of his jaw and stops at where his pulse point would have thrummed, would he have been alive.

you’re a demon. a devil. a she-beast. a succubus. any horrid, terrible name he could call you, he will — dressed in blacks and burgundies and gold older than him, your lips painted an ox-blood red and your eyes as sharp and dark as any polished knife. in your hands he is small. weak. mortal.

“satoru usually keeps his strays away, after last time,” you say, pouting now, though it’s a crude approximation of sadness — even now, your eyes glint with devilment. “so mean, when he knows i have a weak spot for bats like you.”

that wretched finger stretches up; pokes at his bottom lip, scrapes against the fangs that had — embarrassingly — extended from his gums at the simple weight of you on top of him.

“look at that,” you coo, and your grin is something unsettling, something that curdles in the pit of his stomach and heats between his legs. “excited, pup?”

his answering breath comes ragged, and it’s always more embarrassing than it was when he was human. his heart doesn’t work, his lungs do not work, and he has no need to breathe — in fact, he lost the reflex to do so around 92 years ago — but his brain is scrambled, it seems, wilted neurons confusing signals from almost two centuries ago. “i’m — ahem — i’m okay, duchess.”

“how sweet. you don’t have to call me by my title, you know. my name will do just fine.” at his silence, you push yourself up from where you’d been laying low against his chest — looking far too excited when you say: “unless, of course, you like it.”

his hands tremble at his side. he can’t remember the last time he’s indulged in — in debauchery. the last time someone’s made him feel like they’re holding his heart in their hands. over the past hundred-odd years, he’s avoided it like the plague, and for good reason — most vampires aren’t known for their commitment, let’s just say. and now you’re on top of him looking like every sin he’s tried to avoid, and he’s straining so hard in his pants he fears he’ll cum before you even hint at removing a single article of clothing.

you press yourself flush again, nosing at his neck. he knows, for the first time in his long life, what it feels like to be prey. is this what his victims had felt when he ripped into their throats, young and inexperienced and bloodthirsty? did their vulnerability sit like a stone in their throats?

a groan comes from you, suddenly, and your tongue darts out to lave against his skin. choso’s answering moan is more of a whimper, broken and weak in his mouth, but you don’t seem to notice — or care. he flexes his glutes in an effort to stop himself from rutting up against you — not only would it be embarrassing, desperate, but it would be rude. this is your house, after all. your soirée. your gilded halls and bedazzled walls. your silk sheets against his back. your satin skirt bunched around your waist.

“tell me, pup,” you say, and he fights the instinctual reflex to shiver at the brush of your lips against his skin, “have you ever fed from our own?”

“hm?” it’s a sound of confusion brought half on by his simple lack of knowledge, and half on by his slow-processing brain. only seconds after does he fully register your question, and the eyes he hadn’t realised he had screwed shut flew open. “no. i — i didn’t know that was possible.”

all at once, you’re sitting up again — swinging your leg over his hips until you’re standing. it wouldn’t be right to call it clambering — you are impossibly graceful, even passed the agility and elegance that comes with the gift of the undead. his hands reach for you before he can stop them, a sound like a question on his tongue, and you send him the sweetest, most tooth-rotting, stomach-turning smile. he thinks he likes your biting, cruel grins more, though you’re lovely regardless.

you begin to reach for the ties of your corset at your spine — just another thing that makes his mouth water. people didn’t wear these sorts of clothes anymore, not in the human world. but he remembers the skirts and corsets from paintings of noblewomen hundreds of years ago, and how he’d admire the curve of their waists, the swell of their chests—

“of course, satoru wouldn’t tell you. why would he?”

his eyes snap up from your chest, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. but you don’t seem to mind. the corset is removed painfully slowly, for no other reason than to torture him; then, the outer dress, with its carmine satin and intricate embroidery. you throw it to the floor carelessly, as if the most knowledgeable museum curators wouldn’t prostrate themselves at your feet for the simple chance to display it for millions to see — a while his eyes drink up the sight of more skin, the whisper of form beneath your underdress and bloomers, you near him once more.

metal to a magnet, a moth to flame, he pulls himself to the edge of the bed. you find a place between his legs and grasp his chin, and choso can’t look away from you.

“i can take you apart and put you back together,” you say — promise — voice like crushed velvet, quiet and creeping like a choking vine. your thumb smooths over his cheek and ends at its apple, where you press the sharp tip of your nail into his flesh. “i can show you the pleasures of your eternal life, and its pains, and everything in between. i can bring you to every edge, and draw you back from them just as quick — and it will be painful, and you’ll enjoy it so much you won’t be able to go another day without it.”

he’s lost the ability to speak. his unmoving heart is in his throat — or in your hands, or between your sharp teeth. you tilt your head and regard him with knowing, twinkling eyes.

“all you have to say, pup, is yes.”

oh, it’s out of him so quick he can hardly keep up — a word so breathy you’d swear you’d already had your way with him. but embarrassment is a thing of the past when your smile stretches, and you murmur marvellous. you release him from your grasp, much to his chagrin, but when you begin pulling down your bloomers his attention shifts.

he can smell you. smell you. the musky, salty scent of between your legs — a smell that has his mouth watering and his fingers cramping from how hard he fists the sheets. your bloomers are damp when you discard them, sticky with your arousal, and pride glows in choso’s chest. he didn’t do much, but it seemed enough — if he had only let himself lose control, hump up against you harder, perhaps it would’ve stained his clothes; seeped through your layers and onto his lap. he’d go home and hold it over his nose until the scent faded, and perhaps after.

“new as you are,” you say, climbing onto your bed once more and reclining back against the numerous pillows — huffing a mean-sounding laugh when he crawls after you. “i’ll do you the mercy of taking it easy, just this once. oh, don’t make that face — you look like a kicked puppy. i promise you’ll enjoy what i have in store for you.”

and you hike up your underdress, and spread your legs. choso’s mouth waters — the thick smattering of hair on your mons, your flower-like labia, shiny with your arousal. and your clit, peeking out from its hood, pink and shiny and begging to have his mouth on it. but as if this wasn’t enough — as if he wasn’t already scrabbling to get between your legs — you take one of those long, sharp nails, and drag it against your inner thigh. the skin splits. blood trickles down from the wound like a river of gold, flowing into the crease between your thighs and your pussy, and it smells ambrosial. if his fangs were aching before, they’re screaming, now. this isn’t human blood; this is richer, sweeter, creamier. delectable. hedonistic. you’ll make a glutton of him.

“after all,” you say, grinning wickedly, “i’m treating you to a most delectable meal.”

[hunterwritings]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 & 𝐁𝐈-𝐇𝐀𝐍

summary: bi-han is soft with you while you are pregnant warnings: pregnant!reader, soft!bi-han notes: i'm obsessed with bi-han and pregnant!reader (im literally a lesbian)

Your eyes were heavy as you lay in bed. You laid on your back with a hand on your protruding belly. You were about 8 months along in your pregnancy, and you most certainly couldn't hide it from anyone even if you wanted to.

"I had a feeling you were here." Bi-han's voice made your heavy eyelids open and see him closing the door behind him to your bedroom. A soft smile appears on your lips as you begin to sit up and rest your back on a pillow against the headboard. "No need to move." He says, you move anyway.

Bi-han has been with you through everything, and with your pregnancy, his protectiveness has increased tenfold. He wants to be around you 24/7 and doesn't want anyone else to be near you. It's not much different than his normal aura, but he treats you a much more fragile now that you are carrying his child. Bi-han has a difficult time talking about how much he cares and more so shows it by always being near you, bringing you anything you ask for, and things you don't ask for.

"Were you looking for me?" You ask as he sits on the edge of the bed next to you, slowly removing his mask.

"I was." He sets his mask down on the bed.

"Well, I finally took your advice and rested." You smirked.

"You should take my advice more often, I don't say it for no reason."

"I know." You smiled softly at him. He looked up at you and his gaze softened.

"I will make your dinner." He begins to stand.

"No, I'm not hungry yet." You shook your head as you grabbed his hand.

"You will be later, and you must eat enough for yourself and our child." He reminds you as you pull him towards you.

"I know, my love, I will. Just lay with me for a moment." Your eyes must've persuaded him because he groaned before sitting down next to you and pressing his back against the headboard. You tightly grip his cold hand as you interlace your fingers together. You reach your head up and press a soft kiss to his neck. He turns to you and kisses you on your lips, a relieved sigh falling from his nose.

"Are you mad at me?" You ask and he pulls away, almost looking offended.

"No. Why would you think that?" His eyebrows scrunched together as his eyes are locked on yours.

"I don't know it's just ― stupid." You chuckle as his expression remains serious.

"I want you to be in your best condition now that our child is almost here. No stress, no anxiousness or worry. Everything will be perfect for them." He reassures you as his expression softens. A wide smile plasters your face as you lean up to kiss him once again.

He pulls away from your lips and leans down to lie his head against your stomach, holding your belly with both his hands. You reach your hand up to hold his head softly as you play with his hair.

"I know what the baby will be." You smirked as he raises his head to look at you.

"How would you know that?"

"Mother's instinct." You smiled as he raised an eyebrow at you. "― and maybe some magic." You chuckle.

"It doesn't matter. They would be ours, and I would love them nonetheless." His head is back on your stomach, a small smile on his lips as he feels kicking.

You pet his head as you admire him, knowing this man would do absolutely anything for you and your child.

"It will be a boy, Bi-han."

He pulls his head up quickly as he looks at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Truly?" He asks as you nod your head.

"A firstborn son, just as I am. He will be a strong leader." He softly caresses your stomach with the slightly of smiles on his lips, his eyes locked on your belly.

"Firstborn?" You jokingly asked.

"You don't wish to have a village of children?" He smirks as he raises his eyebrow at you. You laugh loudly and playfully hit him in the arm.

"Let us get through one child first and then perhaps we could have more." You shake your head as he scoots closer to you before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

[1800titz]

KINKTOBER 2024 ★₁₈₊

...the titz take

★₁₈₊

if you would like to be tagged in any particular piece, please read the warnings and join the tag list here (please make sure your age is visible in your bio). (tag list: closed).

ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ. ᴏᴄᴛ 5. > MASK KINK > purge au > stalker!harry/dubcon/praise/rough sex/spit kink/leather kink

ᴋɴᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ʟᴀᴍɪᴀ. ᴏᴄᴛ 22. > DEGRADATION & PRAISE > witch x witch hunter au > enemies/rough sex/dom-sub undertones/pussy slapping (light)

ʀᴏʟʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀ. ᴏᴄᴛ 31. > PET PLAY (soft) > couple’s costume gone wild > soft dom/dumbification/praise/dom-sub undertones

[niilue]

hello! could i request illumi + panties to the side + male dom reader? no pressure!

⎯ illumi zoyckl • hxh

cw: dom reader, male reader, sex, panties to the side, mention of daddy

niilue's 3k event

as (name) undressed illumi, he noticed that he was wearing a pair of red silk panties under his clothes. intrigued, he set them aside carefully, admiring their delicate fabric and feminine design. once illumi was completely naked, (name) paused for a moment, debating whether to continue without the panties or to ask illumi to put them back on. in the end, he decided to let illumi choose.

"illumi, my dear," he said, his voice deep and husky, "do you want to keep wearing these red panties while we make love?" the question hung in the air between them, the anticipation almost palpable.

illumi looked up at him with those piercing blue eyes, a mix of desire and curiosity. "yes," he breathed, "i want you to fuck me hard, daddy." his voice was low and seductive, and it sent a shiver down (name's) spine. with a nod, illumi climbed onto the bed, spreading his legs invitingly.

(name) couldn't resist any longer. he reached out and pulled the red panties back up over illumi's hips, letting them bunch at his waist. the feeling of the silk against his skin was intoxicating, and as he positioned himself between illumi's legs, he knew he was going to enjoy this even more than he'd imagined. he paused for a moment, looking down at illumi's exposed body, and then with a growl, he thrust forward, burying himself deep inside illumi's warm, welcoming body.

as he began to move inside illumi, (name) couldn't help but let out a groan. the feeling of illumi's body wrapped around his own, the softness of the silk panties against his skin, it was all too much. he thrust harder, biting down on his lower lip to stifle the animalistic sounds building in his throat. illumi's soft gasps and moans filled the air, and the wet, sucking sound of their bodies coming together was almost deafening. the red panties, bunched at illumi's waist, seemed to taunt him, urging him on as he pumped harder and faster, his hips meeting illumi's in a rhythmic dance of desire.

sweat beaded on their foreheads and dripped down between their bodies as (name) continued to take illumi in a relentless, punishing pace. his breath came in ragged gasps, and illumi's eyes rolled back in his head in ecstasy. the wet, slapping sound of their skin meeting was almost deafening as (name) lost control.

"fuck me, (name)," illumi whispered breathlessly, arching his back as (name) thrust deeper. "oh, god, i need you so much." his fingers dug into the sheets, his body tensing as he felt the familiar tightening in his lower abdomen. "please, make me come." he whimpered, the sound muffled by the red panties bunched at his waist.

(name) growled, feeling his control slipping as he drove harder and faster into illumi's welcoming body. "you're so wet, illumi," he groaned, his hips meeting illumi's in a brutal rhythm. "you feel so good." he reached down, roughly gripping illumi's hip, pulling him closer as he thrust deeper. "almost there, my beautiful slut." he whispered, his hot breath fanning across illumi's sweat-dampened skin. "just let go and let me take you."

illumi cried out, his body shuddering as he finally came, his inner walls squeezing tightly around (name's) cock. (name) followed close behind, his voice raw as he released deep into the red silk panties, filling them with his seed.

(name) collapsed on top of illumi, their sweaty bodies sticking together. he grinned down at him, feeling triumphant and satisfied. "you're mine, illumi," he growled, "and i'll never let you go." with a final thrust, he pulled out of the red panties, rolling them up in his hand. he leaned down, capturing illumi's lips in a rough, possessive kiss as he spilled his hot seed over illumi's stomach, marking him as his own. "now, my beautiful lover," he breathed against illumi's ear, "time for a reward." he reached down, grabbing the vibrator from the bedside table and switched it on with a click. "i think you know what to do with this." illumi arched his back as the vibrations began to stir him back to life, a blush creeping up his neck. "yes, daddy," he whispered, already reaching for the panties and beginning to slide them off.

word count: 722

[torutorubozu]

i am back from the dead and i yearn to fuck feitan stupid. bare with me xoxo

feitan portor x fem reader

if it makes no sense its cos my brains 2 fried to properly start writing againnnn <////3 pls be patient with me FFFFFF

cw :: size difference, overstim

The way he was so much smaller than you was so, so cute. You just wanted to pick him up and fuck him sometimes but you had self control, you’re better than that!

It was especially cute when he was under you, too. The way the strap so obviously bulged from his stomach, with his legs trying to kick at you as he sobbed. Grabbing his lean waist as you gently rubbed against that aforementioned bulge.

And when you had him on your lap? He’d melt right there. Stupid moans and hiccups spilling out of him as you stroked his aching cock. He doesn’t know—or even care—how many times you’ve ripped an orgasm out of him. He wants more from you. He always does