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yorsgirl · 7 months ago

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Perhaps, in another realm

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: An elixir of life – you, destined solely for his consumption. Yet, in his pursuit, he forgot, he sipped away your essence, your breath of life.

Tropes: Dark romance, Historical fiction, Angst, fluff.

Warnings: implied nsfw, implied forced intimacy, forced marriage, baby-trapping, knife play, yandere themes, isolation, trauma, one-sided love implied, non-explicit violence, mild stockholm syndrome(to empathize with one's captor), misogyny, minor character death, healthily unhealthy relationship, Sukuna being a red-green flag, Sukuna has eyes for no one except his wife.

General Warnings: Heian Era, strict Japanese setting, usage of Japanese terms(glossary provided), True form!Sukuna, husband!Sukuna, wife!reader, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 3.7k

Glossary || Pictures

Ryomen Sukuna beholds secrets which he musn't.

Each dawn's awakening, he notes the sun's radiant dance on your irises. Marking the gentle arc of your lips, a telltale sign of mirth's embrace. By the garden's edge, he watches as the winds tousle and play with your hair curls.

With each flicker of your essence, he can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his own inability to guard his heart against the allure of your presence. Each time your unpredictability unfolds before him, he curses his own vulnerability for the arising tenderness within him.

It vexes him deeply.

Gnawing at the recesses of his, once assumed, dormant heart. Yet, now brought to life by unknown sensations – fuzzy and irksome.

An elixir of life – you. Meant to be solely consumed by him.

Your intricate curls destined to be twirled in his fingers alone. Singularly, he'd stand as the privileged observer, captivated by your brilliant elegance. Your figure draped in the resplendent folds of an opulent kimono, delicately bestowed upon you by his hands.

Thus, he embarked on the sole course he could comprehend – take you.

Splitting you away from the familiarity of a family, hearth and hamlet; for in his eyes, your fragile essence demands his safeguarding against this wicked, cruel realm.

Persuading you, that a life enfolded in his embrace had no reason for trepidation. Your purity, too immaculate to endure the harshness of existence.

Yet, persuasion faltered; your resolute heart held no inclination to remain in his grasp. Mounting a relentless siege, to break free from him and his distorted path.

"You crave peril as I assume, so be it," He conceded. "But know this: I'll be the sole peril haunting your very being."

Pressed beneath the weight of his body upon the bed, your resistance proves to be futile against his strength. Leaving you ensnared in a struggle where defiance falters in presence of his immense power.

"Isn't this what you desired? Didn't you yearn for peril?" He questions, his forefinger trailed across the delicate curve of your neck, assessing the rhythmic beat of your pulse point.

"Fear not, I shall burn the world down to literal ashes until none poses a threat to you, save for me, of course."

For danger, befalling upon you while his eyes held the witness and hands were the forebearer of pain – he'd allow. After all, he embodied peril, haunting humanity for centuries.

"My dearest," He began, twirling a blade before your defiant gaze. "I've wielded this to afflict your kin but fear not, it shall yield pure ecstacy for you."

Said so, he thrusted the timber end of the blade within your slick, delicate folds. Your screams shunned out over his malevolent laughter, fingers twisted the cotton sheets as he glided the blade in-and-out of you.

Blood dripped down his wounded hand, staining the white to red, yet his countenance held no response to pain. Gaze fixated upon your shuddering form, underneath him.

He was no stranger to the acts committed in bed. Knowledgeable of all ministrations and threads he needed to ensnared in order to make it pleasurable. Yet, you found no pleasure in this undoing.

The act of intimacy, which you envisioned to be filled with love while your lover would pepper kisses on your skin much akin to the gentle touch of spring's warmth.

That dream left shattered like shards of glass when your chastity was cruelly left to ruins under his harsh caress.

The night stretched on, your anguish unending as he remained vigilant, subjecting you to his torment.

When it ceased, he gingerly held your fragility while tears streamed down your eyes. He cradled your head in his palm, enfolding your trembling form against his chest as he murmured endearments into your parched ears.

You feebly hit on his chest, for you were seeking comfort from your captor – a sickening act.

He brought you pain and despair, yet here he was, bringing you solace in his arms. A sickening man, indeed, he was.

And with him, you were to stay.

You kneeled before the shrine deity.

Decked in a white shiromuku with traces of pink pattern embellishing the fabric, haori lowered just above your lips – grateful to the one who dressed you. Moisture laden lashes would've been a sight for sore eyes.

Beside you, your husband knelt. A black montsukini hakama draped around your self-proclaimed fiance and soon to be husband. Perhaps, you'd have seized the moment to admire him in such a lavish attire if he didn't commit the acts he did.

Abduction and coercion reigned heavy on your mind, the priest's chanting muffled over your loud thoughts. Your fear of the impending, palpable.

Later, you stood by his side, bedecked in jewels, unknown to you. Countless villagers and curses bowed before you but you were a foreigner to such deference.

It was his decree. For he was the King of curses and you – his consort, his queen.

Sukuna witnessed you gazing at the pond situated in his garden.

You gazed upon the lotus blooming at the heart of the pond, longingly. Reaching out for it, the trailing end of your garment splashed in the water – a futile attempt, too distant to grasp.

He stifled a snort on the brink of his lips as he descended into the garden, tethering on the stoned pads placed in between soil – approaching you.

"You desire that flower, wife?"

You rose swiftly, clutching the dampened hem of your attire. Refusing to meet his gaze, you brushed off the fabric, clearing away the soil.

"Apologies," You murmured. "I was just curious."

"That doesn't answer my question." He stated, an arch of his eyebrow at your frame. "Do you yearn for it?"

Standing before him, a hush lingered in the air, mere seconds passing. Fingers fidgeting, you nibbled on your inner cheek.

"Perhaps," you admitted, finally locking eyes with his feet once he takes a step forward. Bracing for the inevitable, you tightly shut your eyes.

You shouldn't have considered it. Entertaining the thought of plucking it behind his back, hoping he wouldn't notice, all the while unaware of his presence. You should have realized. Defiance in the past had met harsh retribution. This would be no exception.

"I beg–"

"Enough," He interjected.

You gritted your teeth, fists clenched tightly. This was worse. A single mistake, and you're sealed to a worse fate.

Yet, the vision never bore life.

He took your right hand, delicately clasping it within his own. Slowly, he pried open each finger, tenderly placing something within. Curiosity overrides your apprehension, and you cautiously open your eyes – finding the lotus nestled in your palm.

Your lips parted in astonishment as you gaze up at him, wonderstruck.

"Apologies should not leave your lips for trying to claim what is rightfully yours." He asserted, a ghost of an arc perched upon his lips.

"You desire something, you speak up," He waited, letting the words sink down. "Its upon me, how I'll bring it to fruition."

"You are to accompany master to dinner tonight," Uraume conveyed, head and eyes lowered in a humble bow.

The fusuma slid shut, signaling their departure, leaving you to your solitude once again.

Lately, companionship has been ceased from your existence. Confined to your chambers by Sukuna's decree that none other than he should share a moment with you. Save for his devoted servant and few maids he deemed worthy, who prepared you for the day.

Upon your bed, you rested, gazing into a void. Softly humming a melody, reminiscent of a distant song, echoing from the depths of your memory; harkening down the familial embrace in your ancestral village.

The day commenced to dusk, the sky donning a cloak of darkness – welcoming the night's silhouette.

Attended by chosen handmaidens, you were draped in a lavish kimono of crimson and ivory. Crushed red cherry paste graced your lips, a stroke of kohl ran along your lashlines.

You beheld your reflection, lovely; yet the joy eluded you. Unable to savor your captivating visage amidst your plight.

You were escorted to the dining hall by Uraume. As the doors parted, your captor, your husband, awaited you; seated on the head of the table. You took your place across him, evading his malevolent stare, your attention fixed solely on the delicacies presented by the servants.

"Afraid to meet my gaze, wife?" He inquired, his smirk palpable in his tone.

Still, you didn't meet his gaze, eyes fixed on your folded hands resting neatly on your lap. "I fear, I am not deserving to meet your eyes, your highness."

His sight danced upon your figure, measuring you as though you were his quarry. A chuckle escaped him as he poured the sake in his ochoko, indulging in a sip.

"Amusing, how you speak so when you are moons away from birthing my offspring, wife."

Your frame grew rigid, lips drawn tight whilst you glanced at your burgeoning womb.

Restraints couldn't bond you to him forever, he comprehended that moons past. Thus, he had to resort to unruly stratagems. Seeding you with his progeny – rendering you incapable of fleeing him.

If only, you acquiesced and remained by his side, as he craved, he wouldn't have acted thus. But your resolve left him with no alternative.

Not a matter to ponder his head upon, he would've planted his seed in you eventually. A kinship with you, his aspiration.

"I wouldn't leave you famished in such a state, wife. Begin eating." He declared, slicing a strip of meat with his chopsticks.

Eating, as if it were possible in such a condition. The satisfaction of a hearty meal has long deserted you. You didn't suspect the flavors of dishes perched before you. Furthermore, you lacked appetite.

You partook in meals solely to survive.

With adjoined palms, you offered a silent prayer to the almighty reigning above you. And so, you began.

Blood bathed the tatami mats of your chambers.

A severed head of a, newly appointed, handmaiden, laid near your feet. Her corpse, probably resulted into hundreds– no thousands of strips, indistinguishable.

Your stance remained rigid and motionless. Terror evident on your countenance, fragile fingertips shaking with shock and apprehension.

"Ah wife," Your husband's voice echoed in your ears. He approached you, stepping over the puddle of blood and sliced flesh.

"You weren't supposed to witness that– come," He gingerly caressed your skin, ushering you out of his chambers with a hand on your back.

"Uraume," He summoned his loyal servant, as on cue, they knelt before their master. "Have the maids tidy this mess."

With the subtle nod, Uraume pivoted around, carrying out their master's command alike a proclamation from thee almighty.

Snapping a life wasn't on his schedule today. He wished to spent it with you, hence summoning you back to your chambers.

Perhaps, a foolish handmaiden, attracted by his visage, made the decision to lure him with her appeal. Lowering her uniform to display her curve of of breast, singing praises of his brilliance to him.

Taken him to be resembling any ordinary man, giving into his desires by just any woman's revealed skin. Alas! He had no interest in any woman other than his wife.

An act of like that, only receives the treatment he'd bestow upon any mortal other than you.

Death.

"I must say, you look lovely, my queen." Twirling a strand of your hair, he pushed it behind your ear.

Upon the engawa of your husband's abode, you knelt, sight fixated on the swarm of fireflies illuminating the garden.

Sukuna held his stance beside you, lower two hands bearing his weight behind, the third perched upon his arched knee. He set the kiseru down with the fourth, his thumb and forefinger lifted your chin; coaxing your towards him.

"Intriguing, you are," He remarked, eyebrow arched.

"Such defiance you displayed upon our initial union, and now, you show indifference. Continuously subjecting me to such blank stares and compliance." A hint of exasperation lingered his tone.

"Isn't that what you wished for?" You retorted, a moment later.

Drawing you near, his lips brushed against yours, "Perhaps, I did do." He murmured, breath caressing your cheeks, prompting a flutter of your eyelids.

"But now, I yearn for something greater."

With that, he seized your lips in a fervent, fiery kiss. Only parting, a hair's breath away, to allow you to catch your breath.

He pivoted you gently, drawing you into his embrace. Two arms encircled your waist, one caressing your swollen belly. Third, Brushing aside your hair, you heard the tinkling of ornaments. Moments later, a chain adorned your neck, a crimson gemstone nestled between your collarbones.

"Ruby?"

"Rubies are ill-suited during pregnancy, its diamond" He corrected, whispering beside your ear, securing the clasp of the chain. "Unlike most, this one's tint sets it apart than rest."

"For what?" You questioned, assessing the gem like it were poison. Grasping it between your middle finger and thumb, the lantern lights reflected on its surface. Though small, you knew it amounted to more than your ancestral wealth.

"Do I need a reason to spoil my wife with jewels?"

A moment passed in silence, your gazed him through your peripheral vision, the next. "Perhaps not, its beautiul."

"Turn around," He commanded, you complied instinctively. Turning your body to face him.

His gaze met yours at first, second they drifted to the chain bedecked on your neck and on third, he glanced at both, at once.

The jewel's radiance evoked with you being it's wearer.

A grin cracked upon his lips, gingerly holding your cheek in his calloused hands in which you begrudgingly leaned in. With a mouth, summoned on his palm, he placed a chaste kiss on your skin.

"Just how Intriguing you are, wife."

Love for your son eluded you.

A splitting image of his father with the identical hair and carmine tinted eyes. You pondered if he'd grow up to be just like your husband.

At days, you couldn't muster the courage to cast your eyes upon him. His mere presence: a testament to your plight, evidence that you were no longer the woman you once were and evidence to your compliance to Sukuna's desires.

Even then, you never shied away from your duties as a mother.

Perhaps, some love existed, for he wielded your flesh and blood too.

You were rendered from ever escaping. Though half-heartedly, you didn't wish to leave your child with Sukuna even though you despised both of their existence.

In this era, nurturing a child as a sole woman was beyond grasp. For all held the thought, as a woman your sole duty was to remain by your husband's side and bear his offspring.

You couldn't return to your home either. Your father, though loved you, would never let you set foot in his abode ever again.

Reasons: You were abducted by a man, your chastity stripped off of you. You were no longer pure in any sense.

He wouldn't tarnish his family name and reputation for just a daughter.

Moreover, your matrimony with the wicked, king of curses had reached rivers far; binding you to his side forever.

Peril loomed at every turn, dangling your life by a single thread. Easily snapped by even the weakest of men. Sukuna's adversaries would leave no stone unturned to reach him, venturing as far to lay down the life of his innocent wife. Someone absolved of his transgressions.

Reluctantly, you accepted that remaining by his side was the wisest decision.

You cradled your son in your embrace, rocking him back and forth as you hummed a lullaby to put him to sleep.

Once his snores serenaded the room, you tenderly placed him upon his cot, adjacent to your own resting place. Gentle pats graced his chest, once you noted him stirring in the embrace of slumber.

"Come to bed," Your husband's voice echoed in your ears. Compliance swiped in your being, a swift rotation of your heels after you had checked your son to be far from awakening. You parted the curtains and perched upon the bed – lying beside your husband.

His arms encircled around your waist, drawing you to his chest, he inhaled your scent.

Your body tensed when his lips brushed against your nape. You dreaded the inevitable.

Six moons had passed, since he last embraced you intimately. The last two, post your son's arrival, were a blur of exhaustion. From tending to your physical strain and catering to your son's ceaseless crave of attention.

Tonight, all you longed for was to surrender yourself to slumber, wrapped in embrace of gentle linens. Alas, it seemed that wish would remain unfulfilled.

You were keenly aware of his intentions tonight – for he was but a man. Thus, you braced yourself.

You waited in anticipation, for him to act on his desires. Yet, it did not come to pass.

You cracked your eyelids open, stealing a glance at him. His carmine eyes met yours in a resolute stare, holding it with unwavering poise.

"Retire to sleep," he finally remarked, tenderly brushing aside the tendrils from your weary visage.

A year prior, during the early nights of your newly forged union, you would have taken a moment to contemplate his actions, perhaps even staying awake the entire night to discern his intentions.

Now, whether out of trust or simply exhaustion from the demands of motherhood – you found yourself slipping into a dreamless slumber without further ado.

The haunting nightmare of humanity, he was; yet, you found solace in falling asleep in his embrace.

His son has taken just after you.

Verily, his offspring could be likened unto a veritable likeness of himself in countenance, yet in comportment and carriage, he bespoke tales of you.

Awaking to the crack of dawn, shedding tears should companionship elude him. Taking solace in the embrace of the verdant garden, to which you oft escorted him. Even directing reproachful glances towards him, his father, whilst cradled lovingly in his paternal arms.

Beneath your eyes lay heavy shadows, hollows etched upon your cheeks, and a perpetual frown graced your lips, save for moments spent conversing with your offspring.

Sukuna escorted his sobbing kin from their chambers, affording you the much-needed respite that has eluded you of late; his offspring casted a disdainful gaze upon him.

"What? Speak up if you wish to," He queried, a playful lilt adorning his speech.

He tenderly traced his son's tender cheek with his claw, wary of leaving any mark upon his cherubic visage. His son seized his finger in both tiny hands, elevating it as though clutching a covert weapon – scrutinizing the nail and the ridges with keen interest.

His little one beamed, a gesture akin to the gentle breeze of summer, bestowed upon him by the heavens above. A giggle swift past his lips – a laughter, he assumed angel's melody wouldn't sound better.

His smile was yours – Sukuna realized. Perhaps, he hadn't completely taken after him in physical features.

Rocking his form back and forth on his arms, a tender smile danced upon his lips.

"Lower the tone, child. Your mother rests inside."

Sukuna couldn't help but contemplate alternative scenarios.

He sipped his sake, his gaze fixed upon your figure, leaning against the amado – your eyes lingering on the cherry blossom trees outside, in the garden.

The fragrance of spring permeated the air, imbuing a soothing atmosphere, starkly contrasting with the terror he instilled upon the village beyond the river.

At moments such as these, he can't help but ponder on the possibility of attaining a kinship with you, without resorting to unruly methods.

His thoughts rewind to the clash conversation he shared with you, mere moments past.

In your gaze, defiance ablazed, aimed straight at him.

"What's your intent? To end my life? Proceed, now. Who held you back? Proceed. Perhaps, I'd choose that fate over spending another day with you."

"Make no mistake," You pressed on. "My sentiment for you isn't love, don't deceive yourself. What festers within me is pure, unadulterated hate."

How could he let slip from memory? A curse he was, brutal and unyielding. Unwelcomed, marked with shame – The disgraceful one. How could he fail to recall? Love's realm, forever beyond the reach of his reach.

He seized you, by means unorthodox yet deemed vital. Yet, he finds himself lost in contemplation.

What if he had treaded a different path?

Would a love aglow your heart if he had courted you in a proper manner? Would you accept him in your life – a husband, a companion, a lover? Would you had willingly become his?

For your presence brought his heart back to life; in doing so, the life and light was lost from your eyes.

Scorned by the desire to claim you as his, the thought of your own desires, feelings was pushed to the desolate corners of his mind.

In another realm, he assumes– in another realm, he might have treated you properly from the very beginning.

In another realm, you wouldn't have to have a lingering threat struck on your mind. You wouldn't fear him.

In a realm beyond, you'd stand beside him by choice, not coercion. A realm where he'd navigate every step flawlessly. A realm where, instead of vowing to set the world ablaze for you, he'd pledge to journey with you until the world's end.

Perhaps, in another realm, you'd fall in love with him like he did for you in this.

A/N: uhm uhm uhm, just typed down an idea which I had for days + I used a new format of literal english (idk how it turned out, I am so sorry if it's cringe 😭) + I fucking don't know how to end stories so bear with me.

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deunmiu-dessie · 7 months ago

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(unedited) john price knew he would marry you the first time he saw you.

john price met you in the rain.

the memory of the encounter remains etched in his mind like a timeless portrait. as the years pass and his recollections fade, the moment of your first meeting remains vivid and unblemished.

the sky, a somber shade of ashen blue, was adorned with brooding clouds of a dark and furious pearl grey. thunder roared in the distance, while lightning ominously streaked across the sky. the rain, a gentle drizzle, tapped rhythmically on his freshly trimmed lawn and his parked truck. seated on his porch, cradling a cup of tea, john's loyal english mastiff, simply known as 'dog', slumbered beneath his chair.

he'd only had a few more days left until he was back in the field, and despite having needed a couple of days to rest, john was ready to get back to the familiarity of work- especially when there wasn't anyone waiting for him when he got home. ( well, besides 'dog' )

john had always been content with his own company, finding relief in the quiet moments spent with his loyal dog. the peacefulness that came with his aloneness had become a sanctuary, a place where he could escape from the disorder of the world and his position; and find solace in his thoughts. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months and then further, john's heart began to yearn for something more.

the familiarity of being alone, once a source of comfort, now felt like a hefty weight on his shoulders. the emptiness that had once brought him peace now seemed suffocating, as if the walls of his home were closing in on him. he craved for a wife who would eagerly anticipate his return home from his weeks away, someone to hold close and shower with affection.

the stillness that had once brought him solace now echoed with a deep longing for intimacy. the sound of his footsteps seemed hollow, and the absence of life within the house filled the empty spaces of his home with a haunting void. john couldn't help but yearn for the day when his despondent home would be replaced with the joy of shared moments and the love of another.

he craved for the warmth of another's touch, the feeling of intertwined fingers and loving touches. he craved the sound of laughter filling the air, the kind that could only come from shared jokes and inside stories. john imagined the simple pleasures of cooking together, of sharing meals and conversations that stretched long into the night.

and despite himself, despite not wanting to feel anything. his heart ached for the intimacy of whispered secrets and stolen kisses, for the comfort of knowing that someone was there to catch him when he stumbled, unconditionally. he yearned for the simple pleasure of waking up next to someone, their presence a constant reminder that he was not alone anymore.

john price, for the first time in what felt like decades; craved for something more.

john's focus is abruptly interrupted by a thunderous slam, causing his weary eyes to shift from his tepid cup of tea. his piercing blue gaze fixates on the source of the commotion across the street. as he observes, his attention is captivated by you, and while being lost in his own melancholic thoughts, he realizes that the rain has intensified, pouring down relentlessly.

there you stand on your porch, engaged in a heated argument with a man. your gestures are animated, your lips downturned in a pained frown, and your brows knitted together in irritation.

the rain's melody drowns out all other sounds, leaving john in a world of silence from the conversation. yet, even amidst this deafening quiet, he cannot tear his gaze away from you, your eyes widening in disbelief as the man retreats into the house, slamming the door shut. price watches as you fish out a pair of car keys from your pocket, walking briskly down the porch stairs and to a car that sits in the driveway. you're immediately drenched in rain from head to toe and john finds that you still look breathtaking regardless.

inexplicably, the two of you lock eyes, and your lips pull into a thin line, your words barely audible over the pouring rain but he catches them nonetheless. "what the hell are you lookin' at?!" then you slip into the car and speed down the street before he can even process what he's heard. slowly a smirk pulls at his lips, the crowsfeet around his eyes deepening.

john price, wanted you.

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weepingwillowwonder · 10 days ago

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Imagines Alastor x AFAB!Reader [MDNI 18+ ONLY]

CW: Period sex, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Needy!Alastor,

Imagine on a rare occasion that Alastor fully takes you and both of you are completely lost in pleasure. Under normal circumstances, convincing Alastor to bed you was…difficult to say the least. It was not often that the mood struck him enough to act on his wandering thoughts, and if he did, it was more so your reactions that he looked forward to, not exactly his own pleasure.

As his partner, you knew this fact very well and respected his boundaries towards the matter, following his lead despite your own yearnings. And of course he knew you wanted him, with how your eyes would roam his body when you didn’t think he was looking, how you’d shift with your thighs pressed together when he spoke sweetly to you, or even how you’d fuck yourself silly when he wasn’t around, his name like a mantra falling from your lips. Ah yes, he knew, you wanted him. Besides, he could smell you, though you didn’t need to know that.

Despite his lack of a libido, he understood you had needs and like any decent partner, he tried his best to make sure those needs were met. Sometimes this involved his own pleasure as well, more often it did not, with his focus purely on satisfying your cravings. So when you approach Alastor one day, shamelessly begging him to bed you, something about the situation compels him to indulge you in ways he normally wouldn't.

He guides you to your shared bed and makes quick work of your clothes, lips crashing into each other in a heated embrace all the while. His fingers quickly find themselves between your legs, impatiently working you open for him to take you. It’s almost as if he can’t get enough of you right now, drinking in your needy sounds as he fingers you deeply. Your body arches up to press against his and he adds another finger, marveling at how impossibly wet you are for him right now.

You can't put a finger on it, but something has Alastor particularly worked up and you can feel it in the rough way his fingers piston inside of you, curling just right to pull out your sweetest sounds. His lips don’t leave yours the entire time, even as he pulls his dripping fingers from you and immediately guides himself to your entrance. He fumbles to sheath himself inside of you when the tip of his cock catches the rim of your hole and a low moan leaves him when he finally sinks inside.

The feeling is almost akin to primal as he takes you, hips knocking into yours fast and hard, exactly the way you asked for and how you both knew you needed him. Tears continually fall down your face as you beg for more in incoherent babbles.

Something about the situation lights his body up in an unexpectedly rare way, one that only certain circumstances tend to bring about. His sense of self control grows muddy as he continues to lose himself in your unbearably wet heat. He knew you needed him, could feel you leaking along his cock as your cunt milked him for all he was worth. And in a strangely familiar way, he felt as if he needed you, needed this. Your cries, your touch, your scent, everything about this moment of you intimacy had him feeling high, almost feral, and he only continued his brutal pace.

When he finally detaches from you, you both catch the trail of saliva that connects you and the heated gaze from the other. Your eyes glaze over as you’re pushed past overstimulation, and reach up to set a hand on his arm gripping your hips for dear life. His eyes follow your hand and hone in on the dark colored fluids smeared along his lower body. Alastor’s hips slow to a still as he processes what’s happening.

“O-oh..oh my gosh…I think I…I think I just started my period.” You mumble out, halfway sitting up to look between your legs with wide eyes. “I’m so-, oh my gosh…” Alastor eyes trail down between your legs to find a darker liquid coming from you, instead of the normal color of your arousal. For a moment, he can only hear the rapid sound of his heart beating. He’d been so distracted by his sudden excitement that he didn’t bother to consider why he was riled up more than usual. It wasn't a newly sudden interest in sex that caused this. He could smell you.

He hadn’t been paying close enough attention to see that you had been spotting when he stripped you down, nor when he felt like he couldn’t get enough of you. He could smell you bleeding the whole time and in that moment he felt like he was harder than he’d ever been.

“Fuck.” The growl that comes from his lips makes you gasp in misplaced fear of him being angry. As you begin to apologize yet again, he yanks himself from you and immediately drags your bottom half to his mouth. A yelp comes from you initially as you’re practically folded in half, then a high pitch moan as Alastor messily begins eating you out. His head is filled with nothing but the need to have you as his eyes fall closed and his tongue searches further inside of you. Your hand comes to bury itself in his hair as he frantically laps along your core, giving you no time to catch your breath.

“Alastor! Alastor please! I can’t, I can’t…! No, no, no, no!” You cry out as an orgasm crashes through you, roughly tugging on his locks in an attempt to pull him away. A threatening growl vibrates against your cunt and you hear the distant sound of static as Alastor’s fingers seem to sink deeper into the skin of your hips. You’re unable to do anything but lay there as he brings you close to the edge again, cries completely ignored as he focuses only on tasting more of you.

When he finally gets his fill and pulls away with a groan, he lowers your body back on the bed and comes up to nuzzle your neck. You weakly call out his name, and cling to him as the weight of his body comes to rest upon yours. As your body starts to relax, you let out a sudden gasp as you feel Alastor’s hardened member dragging along your thigh.

“Oh darling, you’ll indulge me won’t you?” His breath comes out in pants as his fingers dig into the already bruised areas of your hips. His lips hover just above your ear as his antlers begin to grow from on top of his head. “Just one more little taste…”

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hellokittyyyysblog · 4 months ago

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𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓂𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒

Pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

Summary: A slow morning with Natasha ends with a surpising twist.

Warnings: smut

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The early morning light streamed softly through the gauzy curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. You stirred slightly, the faint weight of sleep still lingering as you slowly opened your eyes—your head nestled on Natasha's chest. The rhythm of her breathing—steady and hypnotic, lulled you into a deeper sense of calm. Her arm was draped around you, soft yet firm, keeping you in place—not like you were planning to move anytime soon, anyway.

As you lay there, the world outside began its slow awakening, but within the room, time seemed suspended. The soft rustling of the curtains in the faint morning breeze mingled with the gentle hum of Natasha's breath, bringing goosebumps on your bare skin.

Your mind wandered through the delicate intricacies of the moment, savoring every detail—you wanted it to last forever.

Natasha, the woman who faces the world with unyielding resilience, who stands tall in the face of adversity, now lies here beside you, her guard lowered, her essence laid bare. It’s a sight that humbles you, fills you with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and wonder.

You cherished these rare moments when the weight of Natasha's usual obligations and responsibilities melted away, allowing you both to simply lie in bed together. She was often engrossed in training new recruits or whisked away on clandestine missions across the globe, while your own demanding work kept you occupied.

Over the past seven years of your relationship, this routine had become familiar, even though it wasn't without its challenges initially. Yet now, as you lay enveloped in her embrace, nothing mattered anymore, nothing but her.

The light played upon her features, casting soft shadows that accentuated the peacefulness of her expression.

The graceful curve of her collarbone emerges from the delicate neckline of the sheets, a gentle slope that leads your eyes to the subtle hollow at the base of her throat. You trace the line of her jaw with your eyes, noting the elegant precision of its angle, the way it frames her face with an understated strength.

Every detail of her is etched into your mind, an intricate tapestry of impressions that you find yourself constantly unraveling. You can't get enough of her—the way her hair falls in loose tendrils across the pillow, the gentle flutter of her eyelids as she dreams, the almost imperceptible curve of her lips that hints at contentment. She looks so peaceful, so soft, so utterly yours in this moment—that it almost feels like a dream.

There’s a profound intimacy in watching her like this, an almost sacred act of witnessing her in her most unguarded state. It’s as if the universe has conspired to give you this moment, this perfect slice of time where everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet aftermath of night.

Every fiber of your being yearned for her. The desire to kiss her overwhelmed you, ached within you, begging for release. She was right there, so close—and your longing felt like a physical ache, a visceral need. You wanted her to feel how deeply you adored everything about her.

"I can feel you staring" Natasha's voice broke the silence, low and teasing—her voice warm and husky with sleep; whilst her lips curved into a small smile even with her eyes still closed.

Caught, you smile back, your fingers absently tracing circles on her skin. "How could I not? You're breathtaking, even when you’re just waking up"

Her eyes open, a glint of amusement and something deeper shining through the green. "Flattery will get you nowhere" she murmurs, her fingers playing with a strand of your hair.

You chuckle softly, the sound vibrating through the tranquil morning air. "Good, because I intend to stay right here."

"Well, aren't you sweet this morning?"

You lean in and press a gentle kiss to her lips. "I can't help it" you say, your voice filled with affection. "You make me feel this way."

She laughs softly, her fingers brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I guess I'm doing something right then"

"You're doing everything right" you assure her, your voice sincere, filled with love and admiration for the woman lying in front of you.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. "And here I thought you were just using me for my bed"

You laugh, the sound mingling with the quiet morning. "Well, your bed is quite comfortable. But I think I prefer the company and….the orgasms" you said as a soft grin appeared on your face.

"Smooth" she says, her hand slipping down to your back, tracing patterns on your bare skin.

Her smile softens, a hint of something more serious in her eyes. "Morning" you murmur as you move to lie on top of her.

“Morning detka” she says kissing your forehead.

"Hmm, how about we spend the day in bed?" you say placing small kisses on her neck.

She rolls her eyes, but the smile on her lips betrays her amusement. "As tempting as that sounds, im not spending New Year’s Eve in bed”

You nuzzle into her neck, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. "Fine, fine. But you can't blame a woman for trying."

"I suppose not"

You shift slightly, your fingers playing with the edge of the sheet. "You know, I think I might just stay in bed all day. I have everything I need right here."

Natasha arches an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Oh? And what exactly do you need?"

"Well, there's the bed, of course. And the pillows. And this incredibly attractive woman lying under me."

Natasha laughs, her eyes sparkling. "You're such a flirt"

You lean in, brushing your lips against hers. "Can you blame me?"

As you pull back, you notice Natasha's gaze lingering on you, her expression growing more intense. Her eyes trace the contours of your face with an unreadable emotion, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

"Stop looking at me like that"

Natasha's lips curl into a slow smile, her gaze never wavering. "Oh, so you're allowed to watch me sleep like a creep, but I can't?"

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, but you laugh it off. “Touché” you said before pulling her closer, your lips finding hers in a soft, lingering kiss.

Her hands, which had been at your sides, impatiently find their way back to your hair, pulling you further into the kiss—Your lips entwined in such a frenzy that escalated with each passing moment, harder with each kiss, as if time itself was slipping away.

It was the kind of kiss that stirs up a desire to go a little crazy—one that tells you to let go of control, of cold reason, and succumb to the moment. She was warm and soft against you—yet demanding, and her hunger matched yours with an eager tongue, a flame that set your core ablaze and made your head dizzy, that twisted your stomach into a messy tangle of butterflies.

She pulls back, resting her forehead against yours, her hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

"You okay?" you ask—your brow furrowing with concern.

She hesitates, then nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... thinking."

"About what?" you press gently, sensing there's more she wants to say.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze shifting away from you. "About us"

Your heart races, wondering where this conversation is headed. "Yeah? what about us?"

"It's just...sometimes I worry."

You lift your head to look at her more closely. "Worry about what?"

She looks back at you, her eyes filled with a mix of love and uncertainty. "I've spent so much of my life on the run, always looking over my shoulder, always fighting. With you, I've found something I never thought I'd have—a sense of peace, of home. And that scares me."

You feel a lump forming in your throat, the gravity of her words sinking in. "You're everything to me" you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "And I'll always fight for us. No matter what."

She takes a deep breath, her eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. "I need to know that you're as committed to this—to us, as I am."

“I am” you say with a loving smile “I’ve been for the past seven years.”

Your heart pounds as she reaches over to the nightstand—she retrieves a small object, keeping it hidden in her hand, a small almost shy smile painting her lips.

"What is it, Natty?"

She bites her lip, a rare sign of vulnerability. "I... I've been thinking a lot lately about what I want for my future. About what we want."

You nod—confused, encouraging her to continue. "And what do you want?"

She takes another deep breath, her eyes searching yours with a mixture of fear and hope. Your eyes widen as she holds out her hand, revealing a simple, elegant ring. The sight of it takes your breath away, and you can see the raw emotion in her gaze.

"Marry me" she says, her voice cracking with emotion. "I need to know that you’ll be with me, always"

For a moment, time seems to stand still.

The world around you fades away, and all you can see is Natasha, her eyes filled with love and vulnerability. You feel a rush of emotions, your heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of joy.

Tears well up in your eyes, and you nod, unable to speak for a moment.

“Is that supposed to be a yes?”

"Yes, Natasha,yes, yes a hundred times” you say as you pull her into a tight embrace, both of you laughing and crying at the same time. In that moment, everything feels perfect. The past doesn't matter, and the future is full of promise.

A radiant smile spreads across her face, and you can see the relief and happiness in her eyes. She slips the ring onto your finger with shaky hands, and you both laugh softly at the shared nerves and excitement.

“Romanoff, huh?” she murmurs, her fingers tracing circles on your hips.

You blink, your mind still a little hazy from the intensity of the momen. “What do you mean?” you ask, genuinely puzzled.

Natasha's smile widens, and she gives a soft, teasing laugh. “Oh, you didn’t catch that, did you?” she says, her voice dripping with amusement. “We did just get engaged, after all. Or did you forget already?”

Your heart skips a beat as realization dawns on you. The ring on your finger glints in the morning light, a tangible reminder of the life-changing question she asked you just moments ago. You’re engaged to Natasha Romanoff.

“I… well, I guess I’m still processing” you stammer, feeling a mix of excitement and disbelief. “You just asked me to marry you”

Natasha chuckles, her hands sliding up to rest on your waist. “And you said yes” she points out, her eyes twinkling. “So, technically, that makes you the future Mrs. Romanoff.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within you. “I kind of like the sound of that” you admit, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks.

“Good” Natasha says, her voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper. “Because I love the sound of it.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

You grin, leaning in to press a kiss to her neck.

Natasha's fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And…" she begins, her voice filled with playful affection, "I'm going to have to start calling you Mrs. Romanoff now."

You chuckle, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "I suppose you will" you reply, your voice teasing.

Natasha smirks, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I think I'll enjoy that" she says, her fingers brushing against your lips. "Especially since it means you're all mine."

"Oh, is that how it works?" you tease back. "You put a ring on my finger and suddenly you own me?"

"Absolutely" she says with a mocking grin, leaning in to press a kiss to your neck.

"You belong to me now."

You laugh, the sound filled with joy. "Is that so? And what if I have some ideas of my own about who belongs to whom?"

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Oh really? Do tell detka"

You lean in, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "Maybe I want to hear you call me by your last name again. Maybe I want to remind you exactly who you're marrying."

Natasha's eyes darken with desire, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Well, Mrs. Romanoff, you have my full attention"

Your heart skips a beat at the sound of your new name on her lips, and you can't help but grin. "Good" you say, your voice filled with satisfaction—"Because I plan to keep it."

Natasha laughs softly, her breath hot against your skin. "I wouldn't have it any other way" she murmurs, her lips trailing down your neck.

“So, Mrs. Romanoff” she begins, her eyes glinting with mischief, “what’s on the agenda for our first day as an engaged couple?”

You laugh, shaking your head at her playful tone. “Well, I suppose we could start with breakfast” you suggest, your fingers tracing idle patterns on her soft bare skin.

Natasha grins, her hands slipping down to rest on your hips. “Breakfast sounds good” she agrees. “But I have a better idea.”

“Oh? what’s that?”

She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “How about we stay in bed a little longer? I think we have some celebrating to do.”

You shiver at her words, a thrill running through you. “Celebrating, huh?” you murmur, your voice filled with anticipation.

Natasha's smirk widens, her fingers trailing up your arm with a featherlight touch as she nods.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at her words, your breath catching slightly. "I think I like the sound of that."

"I thought you might"

You can't help but laugh softly, your heart pounding with anticipation. "You know, I think you enjoy teasing me a little too much."

Natasha pulls back slightly, her eyes gleaming with playful intent. "Oh, you have no idea" she murmurs, her fingers dancing along your collarbone, sending shivers through your body.

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "Well, two can play at that game."

Natasha arches an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh, really?"

You lean in closer, your lips hovering just inches from hers. "Maybe I have a few tricks of my own that you still haven’t seen"

Her eyes darken with desire, her breath hitching slightly. "I'd like to see you try" she challenges, her voice a husky whisper.

You close the distance between you, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Natasha responds eagerly, her hands roaming your back, pulling you closer.

Gentle kisses become more irresistible as she makes her way further up your neck. Your fingers lace through her hair as she flips your positions— your back making contact with the soft sheets.

You feel your breath hitch as her lips trail down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. "Natasha" you breathe, your hands threading through her hair.

She looks up at you, her eyes filled with desire. "Yes, Mrs. Romanoff?" she teases, her voice a seductive purr.

"I love you"

"I love you—so much" she murmurs as her lips capture yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

Her touch is so light, it's as if she's barely doing anything, but the fire that ignites inside you as her skin touches yours begs her to continue. She leaves soft kisses all over your chest, slowly moving downward.

As she makes her way lower, the anticipation builds, every kiss sending waves of electricity through your body.

When her lips finally reach your inner thigh, she pauses, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Natasha" you moan, your hands gripping at her hair—"Please" you whisper, your voice filled with need.

Natasha looks up at you, her eyes dark with desire. "Please what?" she teases, her fingers trailing lightly over your skin.

"Please, don't stop" you beg, your voice barely audible.

She smiles, her lips brushing against your skin. "I’m not planning to, love"

As she begins to tease and torment you, your mind goes blank, consumed by the sensations she's creating. Every touch, every kiss drives you closer to the edge, and you can feel yourself spiraling out of control.

"You look so beautiful like this" she whispers, her breath hot against your skin.

You bite your lip, your fingers tangling in the sheets. "Nat..."

Her smile is both wicked and tender as she places a soft kiss over your clit, so lightly it's as if she's barely touching you. The fire that ignites inside as her skin meets yours is overwhelming, every nerve ending crying out for more.

"Be patient" she murmurs, her hand pressing down on your stomach until your back is flat against the bed.

"Natty” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

She chuckles softly, a low, sultry sound that only heightens your desire. "So eager” she teases, her tongue running back and forth over your clit, working up a rhythm that sends sparks shooting through ur body.

Her hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as she increases the pressure, each stroke over you sending you closer and closer to the edge. Your hands clutch the sheets, your mind spinning with the sensations she's drawing out of you.

"Oh god" you gasp, your hips bucking against her mouth.

Natasha's grip tightens, keeping you anchored as she continues to give you pleasure—her tongue and lips moving with an expertise that leaves you breathless. The rhythm she sets is unrelenting, each flick of her tongue pushing you higher and higher, sending your mind into orbit.

"Natasha" you moan, your voice breaking with the intensity of your need.

She hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

Her eyes lock onto yours, a silent command to hold on just a little longer.

You can feel the tension building, the pressure mounting until it feels like you might shatter.

With a final, deft flick of her tongue, you're pushed over the edge, a cry of ecstasy tearing from your throat as you come undone beneath her. The world dissolves into a haze of pleasure, every muscle in your body tensing and then releasing in a wave of bliss.

Natasha continues to kiss you gently, guiding you through the aftershocks with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. When you finally come back down, she moves back up your body, pressing soft kisses to your skin.

"Perfect" she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "You're perfect."

You smile up at her, feeling your heart swell with love. "You always know what to say to make me melt" you tease, running your fingers through her hair.

"Well, it’s true. You are perfect."

You laugh softly, feeling a warm blush spread across your cheeks. "You’re not too bad yourself, Romanoff."

She raises an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her eyes. "Not too bad? I think I deserve better than that."

You smirk, your fingers tracing patterns on her skin. "Oh, you definitely do."

With a sudden burst of energy, you switch positions again, straddling her waist. "My turn" you say with a teasing smile, your hands resting on her shoulders as you lean in to capture her lips in a loving kiss.

As the kiss deepens, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you. This is where you’re meant to be – with Natasha, by your side, as long as your heartbeat ceased to exist.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌𓆩♡𓆪﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Note:

hello dears!

I stumbled upon this piece in my drafts and loved it so much that I just had to share it with you all! It's a bit different from my usual work because it's my first time writing smut. I hope you enjoy it, because I wasn’t that sure about publishing it…

On another note, I've been hard at work on the next chapter of "Love on the Brain." I know you've been eagerly waiting for it, and I aim to have it ready by next week. However, I also have to study for my last exam, so I appreciate your patience and understanding. ♡

#natasha romanoff x reader #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff au #black widow #marvel #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #vampire!natasharomanoff #natasha x you

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lowkeyren · 2 months ago

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—where hope begins with you!

in which : dan heng was never one to look forward to things. that is, until you entered his life and taught him how to hope once more.

pairing : dan heng x gn!reader

wc 1.3k, so much fluff it's sickening, bro is not nonchalant™, you killed his tough guy personality here, art by @/SP0I0ppp on x. reblogs n comments r much appreciated!!!

Dan Heng had never been one to anticipate things. Life had taught him not to —his past was filled with moments where people came and went, and life had a way of reminding him how fleeting those things could be. Though it wasn’t that he didn’t care about the future, it was just simpler to deal with what was in front of him.

So, he stopped expecting. Learning to take each day as it came, to live by the moment, anchored only by the need to keep moving forward, away from his past.

That was, until you came along.

The steady hum of the train is a sound familiar to Dan Heng, but lately, his mind has been occupied with thoughts that even the constant, low thrum cannot easily calm.

It’s strange how easily you came into his life, like a gentle breeze slipping through the cracks of a fortress. Even with his walls firmly in place, you never pushed his boundaries; instead, you moved around them with a gentle finesse that made him feel surprisingly at ease.

Your influence was undeniable, it awakened a sense of curiosity within him, a yearning to experience the world in ways he had long forgotten. And before he knew it, he found himself looking forward to things he never thought he would.

He looks forward to the way you say his name.

“Dan Heng—” It’s a soft murmur that rolls off your tongue like honey, lingering in the air and wrapping around him in a warm embrace.

“Dan Heng?” It’s the look in your eyes when those syllables escape your lips, a spark that sets his heart racing in a way he can’t ignore. The slight tilt of your head makes you look impossibly tender, paired with your soft gaze —it only peels away his defenses without you ever trying.

“Dan Heng!” It’s that sound, that singular way you say his name, that fills the quiet corners of his heart he didn’t even know were waiting for you. “Hello…?” He blinks, eyes darting back to you as you wave your hands in front of his face.

He coughs awkwardly into his fist, a feeble attempt to mask his embarrassment as he becomes acutely aware of how lost in thought he had been. A slight flush creeps onto his cheeks —oh god, he had been staring at you… without even realising it.

“Ahem, sorry about that,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your gaze. “I got a bit... distracted.” His heart races as he glances back at you, “What were you saying?”

You chuckle softly at his flustered reaction. “I was just wondering if you’d like to join me for lunch,” you say, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “I thought we could finally check out that new place March has been raving about.”

“Of course.” His reply comes out too quickly, a rush of eagerness that catches even him off guard. “Great!” your excitement evident as corners of your mouth lift into a grin, “I can’t wait, Dan Heng! Let’s go t—”

Oh… if only you knew; there’s a part of him that comes alive every time he hears his name on your lips.

He looks forward to the quiet moments you share in his room.

You sit across from Dan Heng, leaning against the bookshelf, with the gentle glow of the overhead lights casting soft shadows across your face. He’s attuned to every subtle change in your expression, every little crease of your brow when the narrative of the book in your hands takes an unexpected turn.

(Your expression is telling a story he’s far more interested in.)

Neither of you speaks; content to simply bask in the comfort of each other's presence.The air is tranquil, punctuated only by the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional sigh of contemplation.

There's an undeniable intimacy in the shared silence, where nothing needs to be said for everything to be understood. Dan Heng also thinks you’re quite… mesmerising in moments like these. Perhaps there's something about the way your eyes skim the page, the way you bite your lip in anticipation, the way you turn to him with a gentle smile—

Ah… he’s staring again, and this time you’ve caught him in the act.

You catch his gaze and raise an eyebrow; your playful smirk deepens, a silent challenge lingering in the air as you maintain eye contact —and the corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s holding back a smile too.

The book resting in your lap is momentarily forgotten, the words on the page fading into oblivion. His eyes linger on you, studying every nuance of your expression, every flicker of light that dances in your gaze.

Even in silence, you manage to hold his attention effortlessly, drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

And for now, that’s enough to fill the space with something profoundly meaningful.

He looks forward to the tomorrows you share.

“I had fun today, thank you, Dan Heng.”

“Me too,” he stumbles out. A slight pause follows before his gaze shifts to avoid yours. “I mean, I had fun too.”

For a brief moment, he wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating, how it stumbles, quickens —each beat louder than the last. The pulse of it seems to echo in the space between you, an unspoken language you’ve become quite fluent in.

Just then, you lean forward slightly, placing your elbow on the table as you rest your chin on your hand. “You know,” you say, your tone laced with a teasing lilt, “If you keep getting all flustered like this, I might just think you’re really into me.”

His breath catches in his throat, and his cheeks flare with a heat that rivals the sun.

Your laughter dances in the air, and it sends a jolt of exhilaration through him. “Relax! I’m just ki—”

“No.”

His pulse quickens, and he can’t help but fidget in his seat. “You’re right. I’m into you.” His chest tightens as your eyes meet; for once, you’re the one blushing, a rosy hue creeping up your cheeks as surprise flickers across your face.

You blink, momentarily taken aback. “You… mean that?”

He swallows hard, “I do, I really like you, [name].”

You’re barely trying to contain the smile spreading across your lips. “I’m glad you said it,” you continue, your voice softening. “Because I really like you too, Dan Heng.”

His heart soars, and a breath he didn’t realise he was holding escapes his lips in a rush. “How can I not when you’re so cute?” You reach out to pinch his cheeks, and surprisingly, he lets you have your way.

“I’m not cute,” he mumbles, but his voice lacks conviction, and the way you’re looking at him makes it impossible to stay composed.

You chuckle softly, as you let go of his face. “Anyway, it’s getting late,” you continue, glancing at the clock nearby. “Let’s talk more about this tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

He tells himself he's looking forward to tomorrow, but maybe, it's really just the promise in your words he's waiting for.

“See you tomorrow, then!” You call out as you make your way to the door. He watches you leave, the gentle sound of your footsteps echoing softly before fading into the distance. Once the door clicks shut behind you, Dan Heng glances at the clock again, counting the minutes until he can see you once more.

With a soft sigh, he leans back in his chair, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “See you tomorrow,” he whispers to the empty room.

And for the first time in ages, he allows himself to hope again.

chronic yapper disease

MASTERLIST.

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sagi-tori-ous · 5 months ago

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John Price was colossal, there weren't many moments where you weren't enthralled by the sheer size of the man. You marveled at the way his brawny body towered over you, in the way his large hands encased your body against his, the width and capacity of his build prevalent over yours. It made him all the more wonderful to you.

You liked looking up at him when he gazed down at you with low eyes and a lazy smirk hanging on his lips. Both of your eyes wandering— taking in each other as you re-memorized every detail. The scruff that adorned the lower half of his face, the almost missable crook to his nose, or maybe even the jealous-worthy curls to his eyelashes. You take in all the details as if they weren't already known to you. His calloused hands would caress your ample cheeks, his thumb brushing under your eye at your unwavering gaze.

You'd almost melt every time he bent down to ghost his lips over yours, still looking at you before the both of you closed your eyes once he finally pressed a firm kiss to your lips. The way he'd suckle your bottom lip in between his, a rumble in his chest brewing as you mewled against him from his sultry affection.

He loved the effect he had on you, the puddle he'd make of you at the mere touches he grazed you with. The blazing looks left you squirming, yearning for the promise behind the stares he gave. He knew that you loved that his eyes only followed you, undressing you and positioning you in ways you'd never object to.

He especially loved when you were under him, when you were warm to the touch and slick with perspiration, skin blushing from the intimacy. The low-eyed look you give him as he clamps his hands around your bare waist always makes blood rush below. You'd always look down in amazement at how easily both hands fit around your abdomen. The way his fingers would press into your soft cushiony skin, the marks he would sometimes leave behind.

It was always a reminder of how he left you thoroughly fucked.

Of how his hands pressed into your sides and hips as his meaty cock nestled into your weeping cunt. You took as much of him as you could, leaving him drenched with your essence after each mind-numbing stroke. You'd cross your sore legs feeling the familiar thump between them at the vivid imagery of him fucking you into oblivion, your face getting hot at the guttural moans that tore through him as your gummy walls suffocated his cock.

Press this 💨❄️❄️

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pin-k-ink · 6 months ago

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catharsis // sakusa kiyoomi

tw ⇢ touch-starved!reader, minor self harm, kinda angsty, hurt/comfort

wc ⇢ 1.4k

a/n: this was more to comfort me than anything else. since i usually burst into tears whenever anyone hugs me, which is something that happens once or twice a year

The faintest of marks marred your delicate skin - a cluster of faded scratch lines circling your wrist. Easily missable, had Sakusa's sharp gaze not caught the blemishes as your sleeve rode up. An infinitesimal crease creased his brow as he mentally catalogued the observation.

In the years he'd known you, Sakusa had unconsciously compiled a detailed dossier on your habits and quirks. The way you absentmindedly tucked stray strands of hair behind your ear. How you worried your lower lip between your teeth when deep in thought. That enigmatic scratching motion was new, at least new enough to pique his curiosity.

He made a point of scrutinizing you more closely over the following days and weeks. An invisible audience member watching you go about your daily life, searching for the trigger behind that restless tic. At first, there seemed to be no discernible pattern. You scratched your wrist idly while reading, while chatting with friends, while zoning out during class.

Then one day, Sakusa's watchful eyes caught the moment it happened. You were walking down the corridor engaged in cheerful conversation with Komori, your hands animatedly miming some story you were recounting. As you passed Sakusa, your fingers twitched almost imperceptibly, beginning to extend towards him before stuttering to a halt. In that aborted motion, your nails grazed your wrist and you resumed scratching - an unconscious redirect of your habitual tactile tendencies.

The realization hit Sakusa like a sledgehammer to the solar plexus. You were a tactile person, always hugging, patting shoulders, playful nudges. Everyone received your casually affectionate gestures...except him. Your ingrained impulses continued to reach out only to be forcibly quashed by the visible barrier of his obsessive personal space.

Sakusa's revelation unlocked a floodgate of memories, instances now glaringly obvious in hindsight. You were indiscriminate with your platonic affections - hugging Iizuna enthusiastically after a game, tucking yourself snugly against Komori's side as you chatted.

But with Sakusa, your boyfriend of nearly a year, your tactile instincts faltered. He witnessed it happening in real-time now that he was actively watching for it. Your hand would rise, fingers outspread as if to graze his arm or push back his curling fringe with tender familiarity. Then, an infinitesimal flinch, a micro-expression of remembered restraint flashing across your features. Your hand would abort its trajectory, retracting with mechanical rigidity as you unconsciously scratched faint lines into your wrist. A silent reprimand, punishing the part of you that still yearned to breach his carefully guarded personal space.

The ache in Sakusa's chest was an unexpected affliction. As someone who meticulously maintained crisp boundaries, he had never conceived that his shortcomings could so starve his girlfriend of something so fundamental. You gave your affections so freely to others, yet around him you were forced to subsist on meager scraps, furtive glances and aborted caresses the only intimacies he permitted.

With surgical precision, Sakusa began dissecting every interaction, analyzing your body language like a master shogi player scrutinizing a board. The way your eyes would linger wistfully on mundane couple moments - a simple hand-hold, a casual arm around slim shoulders. How, when thanked, your instinct was to offer an effusive hug before catching yourself at the last moment with a jerky smile and tight nod. Always denying yourself, policing your most fundamental love language to avoid trespassing his boundaries.

The more Sakusa observed, the more his gut twisted with guilt-laced regret. You were starving, yet continued to nourish everyone around you with the generous tactility he had inadvertently conditioned out of your interactions.

When someone from his team scored a spectacular point, you swept him into an exuberant hug, squeezing tightly as you jumped with joy. Sakusa watched the brilliant smile gradually dim, your arms slowly slacking until you gave one final pat on his back before releasing him. As if the brief contact wasn't enough to slake your profound thirst.

With Komori, your hugs lingered a beat longer, your cheek nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you savored the proximity of a trusted friend. Sakusa caught you burying your nose in the soft fabric of Komori's shirt, inhaling deeply with your eyes drifting shut - inhaling the simple human scent you'd been deprived of with your boyfriend.

Even alone, your hands sought substitute solace. Sakusa tracked the restless way you'd play with the ends of your hair, wrapping thick strands around your fingers to stroke and fiddle with. Or how you'd cross your arms tightly, creating some semblance of an embrace by running palms along your own forearms. Paltry imitations to temporarily assuage the perpetual starvation he had inflicted upon you.

The realization congealed like a lead weight in Sakusa's stomach. His issues, his boundaries had turned your most fundamental needs into an unforgivable deprivation. You had always been selfless in respecting his limits. But at what cost to your own heart and psyche? Sakusa felt like a monster, systematically stripping away something as essential and human as physical affection.

That oppressive guilt propelled him into action. If he couldn't fully satiate your needs, he at least had to try meeting you partway. You deserved that much after all the thoughtful accommodations you had made for him.

Sakusa's stomach was in knots as you settled next to him, textbooks and notes strewn between you for your study session. He steeled himself, determined to start making amends.

When he finally understood a tricky concept, relief and pride bloomed across your features. "Sakusa-san, you got it!" you exclaimed, hands raising in an abortive movement before wilting back to your lap. A brilliant smile plastered on, you gave him a small nod of encouragement rather than the congratulatory hug your body had instinctively begun.

Something inside Sakusa shattered at the subtle denial. How many times had you squashed such impulses? How many hugs, pats, and casual caresses had his aversion conditioned out of your loving nature over the months?

You blinked owlishly as Sakusa stared at you, expression inscrutable. After an endless moment, he finally spoke in a low murmur. "We've never even kissed, have we?"

"O-oh!" You flushed, hands fluttering nervously. "You don't have to force yourself, Sakusa-san, I understand. Really, it's okay, I don't need-"

He cut off your reassuring babble by cupping your face with gentle reverence. Holding your widened gaze, he brushed his lips across your forehead, then each fluttering eyelid, the apples of your cheeks, finally coming to linger achingly soft against the seam of your parted lips.

When Sakusa finally pulled back, you were dumbstruck, lower lip trembling. Your brow knit, chin crumpling as you blinked back the first shattering tears. A cracked whimper slipped free as the dam burst, soft sobs wracking your frame.

"Shhh..." he soothed, thumbs brushing away the streams of tears. Sakusa pressed his forehead against yours, cradling you against his chest as you soaked his shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he rasped, voice splintered with uncharacteristic remorse. "You deserve more, so much more. I'll do better, I promise."

Sakusa held you through the cathartic deluge, his solid frame a grounding presence as you released years of pent-up deprivation. He murmured a litany of hushed reassurances, achingly tender sentiments you had long ached to hear from his usually taciturn manner.

As your sobs tapered off to occasional hitching breaths, he pulled back just enough to frame your blotchy face in his large palms. His thumb brushed the lingering tear tracks as he searched your reddened eyes.

"I've been blind," he said gruffly. "Selfish in my boundaries without considering your needs. You've been so patient, but I can't allow this to go on any longer."

You opened your mouth to protest, but he shook his head firmly. "No, let me finish. I'm...not good at this sort of thing. Intimacies. Displaying affection openly." His gaze flickered away briefly before locking on you again with renewed determination.

"But I'll try, for you. We'll go at my pace, find ways for me to...indulge you." The faintest of smiles played at the corner of his lips. "Maybe start with proper dates rather than holing up to study all the time, hm?"

You gave a watery smile at that, nodding as you brushed at your eyes. Sakusa's thumb traced your cheekbone tenderly.

"Be patient with me," he murmured. "I may fumble and misstep as I figure this out. But I want...I want to take care of you, too."

Leaning in, he brushed a featherlight kiss against the apple of your cheek before enveloping you in a cautious, almost tentative embrace. You melted into his arms, reveling in the novel warmth and firm reassurance of his touch as you burrowed against his chest contentedly.

It was a start, you mused. The first blossoming of Sakusa opening himself up to your world of affection and intimacy. You would savor every treasured gesture, because you knew - he was finally letting you in.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #hq sakusa #hq sakusa kiyoomi

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depravitycentral · 6 months ago

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Yandere! Asahi Azumane NSFW Profile

Yandere! Asahi Azumane x fem! reader

TW: kidnapping, mentions of non-con, light somnophilia, masturbation, panty sniffing, breeding, lactation kink, mentions of pegging, Asahi wears lingerie, size kink but remember that Asahi is very large and it's written with the idea that everyone is smaller than Asahi, one very, very brief mention of reading not eating enough, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 12K

HABITS:

Before having you in his life, sex was something Asahi wasn’t super comfortable with. Despite coming more out of his shell with the passing years, he’s never truly shaken off his shyness, and so the prospect of casual sex is absolutely not something he’s interested in.

He’s had a girlfriend or two and is thus not a stranger to women’s bodies, but he’s found that he’s simply just not that sexual of a man. Sex just wasn’t important to think about – he gets easily flustered even as a fully grown adult, and while he can handle mature conversations about intimacy, just the thought of being so lewd and bending someone over to have his way with them gets his ears turning red, his knees buckling and his words coming out all slurred and distorted because he can’t think clearly.

It’s embarrassing, if he’s being honest, and so he finds himself simply avoiding sex and, in turn, partners. And this extended into his personal sex life and habits as well – he’s not the most regular in terms of touching himself, preferring to just let the bout of horniness or the occasional incessant boner pass on its own.

He’ll do it occasionally to relieve tension and because he enjoyed how it feels, but it’d only happen a few times a month, if only because the embarrassment was difficult to overlook. After all, how lonely is it to look down and see his own hand wrapped around his cock? Familiar fingers gripping his red, swollen length in the comfort of his own room, the lame background music he’d put on to feel better doing absolutely nothing.

The reality is that Asahi is actually quite lonely before you step into his life – he's not quite smooth and suave enough to be successful with women or even be willing to put himself out there, and the realization that the only way for him to get some sort of sexual relief is via himself makes him too sad to indulge often.

And even once you step into his life, this is still true – except now there’s the addition feeling of yearning, wishing so strongly that it’s your fingers instead of his own (or perhaps your mouth, your breasts, or – god forbid – your pussy) that touching himself becomes even more of an emotional struggle.

And as time passes, Asahi sticks to his typical pattern of seldomly masturbating – but then his feelings grow deeper, his infatuation with you festering more and more, his thoughts about you delicately toeing the line between sweet and only slightly disturbing to downright depraved.

After all, how can he not imagine fucking you in every position he’s ever seen?

How can he not imagine the sight of you perched in his lap, pretty body bare for him to ogle while you scoop your hips up and down, moaning his name and guiding your lips to latch onto a bouncing nipple, your cunt squeezing down on him like a fucking vice?

The embarrassment is still there, of course, as is the shame and loneliness, but his feelings for you are just too strong to ignore, his desperation too insistent to quell. And with every gasping, toe-curling orgasm that wracks his body, Asahi comes closer and closer to deciding that he needs you, that just his hand or his pillow aren’t enough to satisfy him.

No, he needs you – your touch, your body, your pretty, tight, warm walls sucking him in so hard that you never let him go.

As the frequency with which he gets off increases, Asahi finds that he has a particular system for how he pleasures himself - and it involves a secret that he is not proud of.

He’s not especially proud of the fact that he relies exclusively on the (now a bit ragged) pair of panties you’d accidentally left at his apartment in order to get off, but it’s too late to change now. You’d had a rather serious dental procedure, and had turned to Asahi to request that you stay the night at his place to minimize your driving and responsibilities while the anesthesia wore off.

Asahi had of course jumped at the chance, ending the phone call with shaking fingers, a blush covering every inch of his face, and his heart practically beating out of his chest at the prospect of sharing a roof with you for a night just like couples do. And he’d been attentive to your every need; cooking you a warm soup, getting the best sheets he had and letting you sleep in his bed rather than the couch.

(Of course, he still hasn’t washed those sheets after you’d slept in them – if he tries hard enough to thinks he can smell you in the fabric, occasionally finding strands of your hair by his pillow and letting each one sit on the tip of his tongue for just a moment, savoring the taste of you.)

You’d forgotten a pair of underwear in your overnight bag, and while Asahi had meant to tell you, curiosity got the better of him and before he knew it he was picking them up, swallowing thickly, and thumbing at the double-layered section that rubs right up against your folds. It was all too easy to imagine how you must look in them – the mental image of you making a shiver erupt down his spine, needing to lean on his desk for support.

He felt a bit guilty for not returning them, but he couldn’t help it - they were so utterly you, your favorite color and a style he just knows would frame your cute little ass perfectly, your plush thighs and creamy skin sitting on display and practically begging to be kneaded, squeezed at, marked up and bruised with hickeys.

And that night, as he lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking of your face and how he’d quite literally give up his own life just to kiss you once, just to feel your lips pressed snugly against his own, slowly the more risqué thoughts are drifting into his mind.

What would it feel like to have you kiss other parts of his body? How would you taste if he kissed your collarbone, gently suckled on a nipple, licked a long stripe up the puffy lips of your cunt?

How would you react if he were to teasingly kitten lick at your clit, or if he whispered a heated, honest I love you into your ear as he pushed deep inside of you and filled you to fucking brim with his cum?

His mind slowly drifts to more lewd areas, his body growing hot as he imagines you riding him like your life depended on it, bouncing up and down and making your entire body jiggle, your tits bouncing in his face and your voice thin and gasping as you tell him that it’s too much, I can’t Asahi, please, need you to fuck me now…

And soon, he’s deciding that he can’t just ignore the stroke of luck he’d gotten that day, that he’d somehow managed to come by a pair of your panties, something he’s only been able to dream about. And as he locks his door and dims the lights a bit, he’s snatching the pair of panties he’d neatly folded and placed on top of his dresser.

Immediately, he notices the slight fresh stain against the crotch, and his eyes go wide - you had already worn them? They’d already touched the slick, warm place between your legs, the place that gets Asahi salivating and bright red with just a mere thought?

With shaking hands, he timidly brings the cloth up to his nose, inhaling and moaning aloud as the smell he can only describe as you clouds his senses. They’re pungent, proof that you must have had a long day with them adorning your pretty body, and immediately his cock is standing at attention, his tip flushed and oozing precum in copious amounts, his balls occasionally twitching in desperation, practically begging to be touched. He lays the panties down against his face, tilting his head back slightly so that the cloth stays against his nostrils, the smell of you filling every breath his takes.

He gulps, wrapping his fingers around himself, hissing slightly at the pressure and letting his eyes drift closed. He gently squeezes, bringing his hand up to the tip, using his thumb to swirl around his slit for a moment as he brings the material once more up to inhale again.

He groans, the pleasure sending shivers down his spine, and before he knows it his fist is pounding down against his pelvis, long strokes against his rock hard cock as he grunts and lowly moans your name, airy breaths of oh – oh you’re so pretty, I love you – hah, love that pretty pussy of yours.

The pace is purposefully slow, his movements still a bit timid because he’s worried he’ll come too fast, that he’s too pent up, that the smell of you will send him over the edge way too soon.

He doesn’t want this moment to end – the pleasure, the exploration, the feeling of having you the closest he’s ever had. He continues to sniff and whine, absolutely amazed at the wonderful, musky scent of you, fantasies running through his mind about the way you’d react to him touching you, to him sinking his cock inside of you again and again and turning you into a trembling, incoherent mess all for him.

He can’t help himself from imagining what you’d smell like when you’re finally in front of him, a groan slipping from his lips as he imagines the way you’d feel perched on his face, your thighs caging in his head and your fingers raking through his hair as he slurps and sucks and moans against you, desperation lacing his movements because god he wants to make you come.

He can’t help but imagine you taking every inch of him inside that warm little pussy of yours, sucking him in and gripping onto his swollen length so tightly he’s sure you must never want to let go. And his eyes flutter close his lips part slightly, drool pooling in his mouth as he loses himself in the pleasure, the feeling of his hand so much better than normal now that he has something to smell, something that’s so clearly you rather than just his thoughts. His hand picks up a bit, and as his tongue darts out to lick his lips, panties still draped over his face when he stops short, eyes flying open as his hips buck wildly.

Tentatively he sticks his tongue out once more, rolling it against the crotch of your panties. Immediately his eyes are flying open and he’s whining your name, hips bucking up as he runs his tongue along the fabric once more, relishing the taste of you against his tongue.

Curses and whimpers of your name along with yes, o-oh yes yes yes, god feels so – so good fly out of his mouth. Suddenly a particularly hard clench of his abs makes him gasp, the words slurred and nearly incoherent as he moans out ‘m gonna – I can’t hold it in, a-ah oh god ‘m-!

His whole body tenses, every breath he takes smelling like you you you as warm cum spurts up and onto his chest, the t-shirt he’s wearing utterly destroyed as it just keeps coming, rope after rope. He’s moaning your name, eyes squeezed shut as he loses himself in your taste, imagining he’s buried as deeply in you as possible, stuffing you full of his cock that he’s all you can feel, all you can see and hear and taste and think of.

It takes him a few minutes to recover, and once his breathing is steady once more he’s staring at his ceiling, in shock of how good it felt to have your scent and taste, to make it seem just a bit more realistic. He’s careful with your panties as he delicately picks them up off of his face, chest still heaving with the residual pleasure of his orgasm, dutifully and carefully folding up the cloth.

After much debate he ends up slotting the panties neatly under his pillow, swallowing heavily and practically giddy with the knowledge that he’ll be sleeping so close to something of yours, his face mere inches away from you, basically.

And that night, as he lays in bed, he’s breathing in hard, hoping to get even the slightest whiff of you from below his pillow, sleep eventually lulling him into dreaming about you laying in his arms, his cum still leaking out of you.

FAVORITE BODY PARTS:

Your hands

Asahi’s always found himself drawn to your hands. Perhaps because his job requires so much of his hands between sewing, measuring, tailoring, and everything else, or perhaps because he’s simply attracted to them.

Regardless, Asahi quickly discovers that every time he’s with you, he’s always aching to reach out and intertwine his fingers with yours, to feel your palm pressed against his own.

And really, they’re just so small compared to his own rough, calloused hands – so soft and delicate, something he can stare at for hours without growing tired.

He’ll trace every line, every mole and mark, memorizing each and every detail because it all just feels so important. He doesn’t care whether your fingers are long and dainty, shorter and wider, veiny and pale, anything and everything is pure perfection to Asahi, and he’ll be worshipping your hands no matter what condition they’re in.

Even in the early stages of his obsession with you, he’s always been interested in them – the way you idly crack your knuckles, how you mindlessly tap random rhythms against your desk when you’re bored or waiting for something, how you run your fingers over your hair when you’re focusing.

He has a tendency to stare, and while he thinks that you don’t catch him often (you d0, but based upon the fire engine blush on his cheeks and the way his eyes immediately dart away, you figure it’d be kinder to not confront him about it), he’s been fascinated since day one with how they could possibly feel, how soft your fingers would be, the exact lines on your palms, whether they get clammy easily or not.

And once your relationship moves to the point of any sort of affection, Asahi’s preference for your hands will quickly become apparent – he’s trying to hold them at any chance he can get, intertwining his fingers with your own, bringing them up to kiss each knuckle individually, listing off a thing he loves about you for each.

He loves the way they feel against his own calloused palms, how your fingers are so much shorter than his own, how when you hold your palm up against his, you barely reach his last knuckles.

It only furthers his perception of you being so in need of protection, and he loves to feel those hands against him, touching him. He loves the sight of your fingers wrapped around his thick cock, barely able to wrap fully around, such a stark contrast to the hard, pulsing, veiny expanse of his length. He loves the friction as you thrust your hand up and down, biting his lip and knitting his brows together because even though it’s just a simple handjob it feels so much better when it’s your hands and fingers wrapped around him.

He loves how they feel against him when you’re touching him, running them along his front and down below his v line, how it sends shivers down his spine just to have you ghost a fingertip against his sensitive skin.

He likes holding your hand while he fucks you, keeping his grip on you firm as his hips steadily thrust into you, the pleasure slowly mounting. His fingers clench onto your own progressively tighter, until they nearly crush yours as he stares down at you with wide eyes, his lips falling open into a desperate moan of I – coming! while he buries his face in your neck, filling you with spurt after spurt of cum.

He loves the way you scratch his down his back as he hovers over you, the pleasure and pain mixing together while he focuses on holding off his orgasm for as long as possible, not wanting to end the feeling of being inside of you, not wanting to end the way you’re clutching onto him and moaning for him, begging for him and telling him that he feels so good Asahi ‘m gonna come-!

Asahi loves your hands, and at any given time he’ll be touching them in some capacity - whether it be holding your hand, resting his cheeks against your palm or sucking at your fingers while you toy with him and make tears well up in those pretty eyes of his.

He just loves them.

His hair

He’s long harbored fantasies of you playing with his hair, to feel you giving it attention and mindlessly running your fingers through it.

He’s absolutely convinced that it would be the most comfortable, wonderful thing in the world, that it would be the single most amazing experience he’ll ever have, to have your attention solely focused on him, you touching him, maybe even telling him how lovely his hair is, how you’re jealous of how soft and smooth and pretty it is…

Just the thought of you complimenting his hair is enough to have him wildly blushing, his dark eyes staring at the floor in embarrassment and bashfulness, secretly yearning for you to tell him more, to compliment him again and again until he faints from all the blood rushing to his cheeks.

(And, though he’d never tell you, to his cock, too.)

And once you’re trapped with him in your new shared ‘home’, Asahi is still harboring the fantasy, even more so than before – and yet, he will never ask for it, never request for you to play with it, to run your nails against his scalp and gently tug on the roots.

He wont’ ask, if only because it feels wrong to request anything of you after he’s kidnapped you, when you’re so obviously still afraid of him.

So he waits in silence, praying for the day when you mindlessly start playing with his hair – he’ll always position himself so that his hair is accessible if the desire overtakes you, a small flame of hope igniting in him chest and extinguishing out every time you move and don’t come any closer to his head.

(He goes to bed on those nights with a heavy heart, his own tangling into his hair and tugging, your name slipping past his lips.)

But Asahi is a patient man, and once you do start absentmindedly playing with his hair, Asahi is beyond pleased to know that you don’t stop. You seem to grow an affinity for running your fingers through it, for braiding it, styling it, really doing anything at all.

He knows that you enjoy his hair – it becomes his favorite thing in the world to feel you play with it, and he spends hours with you sitting behind him with his head leaning back between your knees, his body starting out stiff because holy shit, he’s so close to you, but eventually relaxing, even falling into a slumber because the feeling is just so calming. He wants you to braid it, mess with it, do anything your heart desires with it because he loves the attention and the relaxing feeling it brings.

But of course, he also loves his locks for other, less wholesome reasons - the way you tug at it when he’s got his face buried between your legs, for example, and how your grip tightens against his scalp as you get closer and closer to release.

Sometimes you synch your cries with the tugs, something that Asahi is sure you’re unaware of, but he can’t help the way he forces himself to work harder, to focus more in order to get you off, in order make you have the most Earth shattering orgasm, the best feeling you’ve ever experienced, and with each hair tug he only becomes more determined.

He loves the way you get rough with it, the slight tinge of pain that accompanies it, and it never fails to make him groan, to sigh out your name against your cunt.

(Sometimes, when he’s in the mood but you physically aren’t in a position to touch his hair, he’ll reach up and tug at the strands himself, imagining your fingers instead of his own. It gets him whimpering, desperation for you so thick that he can nearly taste it, but Asahi just can’t help it. It’s an obsession in and of its own right, and he can’t deny how much he loves it.)

DRIVE:

Asahi’s drive is really quite average – he’s not an incessantly horny man by any means, and while he does have the occasional passing fantasy or wet dream, he’d never categorize himself as a hormone-driven man. He doesn’t watch porn, doesn’t follow any social media influencers whose content borders on the edge of distasteful, and he sometimes even fastforwards through sex scenes in movies simply because he finds it uncomfortable to watch two people having sex – even if it’s fake.

And so Asahi finds himself mostly avoiding intimacy on that level, though it’s not entirely on purpose. He’s by no means a saint, though; he’s still human, and when he sees a woman with particularly large breasts or perfectly manicured fingers there’s always the fleeting thought of what if, the fantasies clawing in the back of his mind of how he’d love to latch onto a nipple and suck, to imagine how much better those fingers would look wrapped around his cock or cupping at his balls.

He rarely touches himself, sure, but he’s not a stranger to sex, his limited experience still experience nonetheless.

And so while it’s very, very easy to fluster or rile him up, he generally isn’t hard and desperate to fuck you at all times. He values you for much more than just your pussy – you’re his dream woman, the person he views as his life-long partner, the one he wants to spend every waking moment with and share every last breath. He’s content to just hold you, to press a soft kiss against your temple and whisper a little confession of love rather than pin you down and fuck you until you’re crying.

(Of course, he won’t say no if you were to beg him to touch you, his face only turning red and his voice cracking a bit as he rushes out a quick yes! Um, yes of course, I’ll uh, be right back… and then leaving the room to take a few deep breaths and whisper to himself that it will be fine, she wants you, you’ll do well, don’t overthink it.)

Asahi is very dependent on what you want, always concerned about your opinion and vote and desires, and so while there are times that those wild hormones do in fact take over and his body starts begging him to slip down that cute pair of panties he bought for you and sit you directly on his cock, to bounce you up and down and use you like some life sized sex toy, watching as your breasts jiggle and your face contorts up into that sexy, perfect little ‘o’, Asahi won’t until you make the move to do so.

(It’s out of respect and lucidity for your consent and state of mind. He already feels guilty enough from having stalked you and stolen you away to live in his modest apartment with him, and forcing himself onto you is absolutely the last thing he wants to do.)

He’s not constantly horny, but it doesn’t take too much to rile him up. A few suggestive words and lingering touches can have him needy and eager to touch and please you in mere seconds – casually tell him over dinner that you feel so empty, Asahi, won’t you come fill me up and watch the way his entire body stiffens, brown eyes meeting your gaze and immediately looking at the table in embarrassment, his face flushed a bright red and his knee bouncing under the table as he mutters out a are – are you sure? I don’t want to leave you hungry – not that you haven’t eaten enough! That’s not what I’m saying, I just – um, I uh… Do you really want that?

(His voice gets a bit vulnerable at the end there, his tone higher and his eyes daring to meet yours again, his mousy brown hair falling around his jaw like a halo.)

Leave a hand on his bicep and gently squeeze, biting your lip and making a show of raking your gaze up and down his body and you’ll see the way he gulps, the sound audible as he shudders a breath, his pants already growing tight and nudging against you.

(You can actually feel the warmth of him through his jeans when he does this – cock warm and ready and throbbing.)

For him, your pleasure is the number one priority, and as such it’s his duty to prioritize what you want when you want it, rather than his own desires. You should be in charge, should be the one calling the shots and telling him that you’re okay with him fucking you like he so desperately wants. You should be the one to tell him that it’s okay each time he nervously and compulsively asks you if it’s okay for him to kiss you or touch your waist or unclasp your bra or moan your name or come -

And even once you’re both naked and touching one another, he views his own orgasms as a background to yours. He mostly just wants you to feel good, and he’s pretty much at your beck and call for whenever you’d like to feel the euphoric high that only an orgasm can bring you, in whatever way you’d like him to get you there. He’s game to finger you, to eat you out, to fuck your cute little pussy that makes him moan and whine every time, even your ass if you bring it up.

Asahi never fails to deliver, and he’ll never, ever complain. He loves to touch you and get you moaning, even if he’s a bit shy and flustered the whole time. It makes him so, so happy to know that he’s the one touching you, that he’s the one making you feel so good and satisfied.

But before you begin feeling any desire to be with him in an intimate setting, Asahi still has urges. He still very, very badly wants to touch you and feel you against his skin, to trace out the map of your body and chart every mole, hair, blemish and roll.

You’re just so fucking perfect to him, and he can’t help but desire you physically when he sees the way your breasts bounce as you try to reach the top shelf in the kitchen (he’s more than happy to come to your rescue and grab the jar off the top shelf, secretly smitten with himself because he’d put it there with the hopes of creating this moment).

He can’t help but want to taste your saliva when he sees you sweating on a particularly hot day, the bead rolling down your temple and following the curve of your cheekbones, his tongue coming out to lick a long stripe along his lips because fuck, he bets you taste sweet.

These urges are still present and strong, but because of his commitment to not force you into anything, Asahi finds that he has to satisfy himself in other ways. That is, it doesn’t necessarily feel good to sneak into the extra bedroom he’d transformed into your personal room, but as soon as he catches a whiff of your scent and sees your sleeping, relaxed form on the mattress, his mouth goes dry and he’s shuffling forward before he even realizes it.

You’re sprawled out on the mattress he’d bought especially for you, the soft t-shirt and short set he'd gotten you sitting haphazardly on your hips and riding up to expose a bit of your stomach. It makes him gulp, his eyebrows drawing in a bit as he slowly, carefully, sits down onto the empty space beside you on the bed.

He can’t stop staring at you – you’re so pretty, and as your lips part slightly and you breath, he can’t help but whimper slightly – he can only imagine how it would feel to kiss you, to feel your lips against his own and feel your tongue brush against his.

Would you bite his lip, tease him with a bit of pain before kissing him harder, pushing your tongue inside and moaning into his mouth because it just feels too good? He hopes so, and it’s not long before he’s imagining all of the other things that mouth of yours could do – he’s sure your kisses would feel like heaven against his chest, lips wrapped around a nipple and sucking lightly, tongue flattening out to run over the pebbled skin again and again and making him shiver.

He’s sure that your lips would feel even better lower, pressed against the juncture of his hip and thigh, moving up and to the side, slowly – so fucking slowly – moving towards where he really needs you, where he’s pulsing and throbbing and leaking so much precum that it almost looks like he’s already reached his high.

He closes his eyes briefly as he imagines the way you’d suckle on his tip, your pretty lips puckered and those eyes of yours staring up at him from between his knees, how you’d pull back to press small kisses and kitten licks against his sensitive skin.

The thought has him groaning lightly, a hand coming down to carefully push his boxers down just a hair, just enough to let his cock spring free, slapping heavily against his lower stomach as he bites his lip. He makes sure to settle the waistband just below his balls, a hand idly moving to grope and squeeze as he continues to stare at you. It feels wrong to be touching himself while so close to you, while you’re totally unaware, but he just can’t help it – he’d been furiously pounding away moments ago in his own bed, eyes squeezed shut and flashes of you playing through his mind, but the knowledge eats at him that you’re only a wall away, your pretty body ripe to ogle and fantasize about and right fucking there…

Guilt weighs heavily in the back of his mind, but as he wraps his fist around his base and slowly pulls up, the heaving breath he lets out has the shame creeping to the back of his mind. It’s so much better with you in his sight – he watches the rise and fall of your chest, your breaths and soft and light, matching the pace of his fist with it.

His toes curl and his lip catches between his teeth, the dull, teasing pleasure from such a slow pace making his head tilt back. He stays like this for what feels like hours – his eyes never moving from your sleeping form, his pace matched to your breathing, just simply breathing in deeply and letting his eyes flutter closed as he exhales, the scent of you you you filling his lungs and making him feel dizzy.

Some forty minutes later, Asahi’s breath is hitching, little whimpers and bitten back moans filling the otherwise quiet air, his fist slowly speeding up out of his control, his orgasm slowly building and mounting, his cock so sensitive and hard and wet –

He comes with a strangled, too-loud I love you, his eyes struggling to stay open as he strokes his way through it, his hips bucking up into his fist and cum landing in ropes along his fingers and wrist. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, he’s chanting under his breath, his breathing uneven and labored as he tries his best to be quiet, terrified to wake you up.

You’re still so ethereal in front of him, looking like an angel as he slows his fist to a stop, his entire body trembling at the aftereffects of his orgasm. He swallows heavily, shaking fingers stained with cum reaching out and nearly, barely brushing against the soft skin of your forearm, clenching his teeth tightly at the contact as it sends one last, final push of pleasure through him, a few final beads of cum oozing from his tip and making him whimper your name.

He doesn’t touch you any more than that, scared to wake you up or cross some invisible line of privacy and consent, but thus starts a pattern. He’ll sneak into your room every week or so, spending far too long simply staring at you, moving to every angle imaginable just to see you, to see all of you, all the while furiously pumping his fist, doing his best to bite back every moan because god, what would you say if you saw him?

(He hopes you wouldn’t stop him, that you’d instead berate him for being so dirty, that you’d reach out and stop his wrist, telling him in that lovely, sweet voice of yours to earn it, Asahi, show me that you deserve to come. And god, the fervor and desperation in his movements as he’d lick and suck between your legs is too good to be embarrassing.)

MAIN THREE KINKS:

Praise

As a general rule, Asahi absolutely crumbles the moment any sort of positive comment towards him falls from your lips. He’s never been the most confident man on the face of the planet, and while time and a successful career have helped mitigate that a bit, he’s still a bit doubtful about himself, always just slightly insecure and unable to believe in himself.

And for the most part he doesn’t mind, but he always, always appreciates your support in the area of his lacking – declrataion of you being happy or grateful or pleased with him leave Asahi’s throat feeling tight and his palms clammy. But specifically, Asahi has little to no confidence in himself in the bedroom – and to hear you say anything even remotely positive about his skills in bed gets him hot under the collar, the desire to please you making his fingers itch and his pants feel much too tight.

His lack of confidence between the sheets stems from the belief that he’s sure that he won’t be able to satisfy you, that his touch and love won’t be enough to get you off, that you’ll end up just using your own fingers because he just wasn’t good enough.

He’s convinced that you’ll grow to prefer your own touches and ministrations over his own, that you’ll simply sigh and roll your eyes when he asks you in that timid voice if you’d sit on his face, if you’d let him play with you, if you could just please let him taste you, he’s been thinking about it all day…

It’s never ending cycle of negative thoughts and assumptions, always absolutely sure that things will go the worst possible way once he becomes intimate with you, and honestly you’ll quickly pick up on this.

When he’s hovering over you, brown eyes staring wildly down at you, impossibly wide while his mouth opens and closes like a fish, unsure of what to say or do because you’re finally right in front of him, like he’s been dreaming of for months, you’ll notice the way he’s too stiff to move, his every muscle tense and his eyebrows knitted together so tightly that he almost looks like he’s in pain.

(A few soothing words will have him instantly relaxing, though – run your hands up and down his arms, cooing at him that he’s so handsome, that he looks so good over me Asahi, you’re so pretty, and maybe tell him that you’re so excited, you’ve already made me feel so good baby, and you haven’t even touched me yet and you’ll see the way he visibly perks up, embarrassment written across his face but this sort of shy, boyish joy taking over as he leans down and kisses you. The kiss is too sloppy, too needy, too wet, but it’s the push he needs to finally press himself against you, your slick folds against the sensitive underside of his cock making him hiss into the kiss and his arms nearly give out.)

He’s too nervous to try fingering you or eating you out the first time he’s got you naked in front of him, but he also knows that you need prep before you take him, his girth enough to stretch your walls out to a painful degree if you don’t get some aid.

(Take the initiative and guide his fingers down your body, going slow and making all sorts of keening and sighing noises, until he’s finally pressed up against you. Tell him that his fingers feel good when you’re helping him rub slow circles over your clit. Overdo your hips bucking at the sensation just to give him that extra assurance that he’s doing a good job. Gasp his name as he slips a finger inside and purposefully clench down on him, letting him hear you babble on about how he feels so good and he’s so big and he’s exactly what I’ve been imagining… You’ll see the determined purse of his lips, every ounce of concentration going into making you cry out his name, making you squeal out more praise, getting you to gush on his fingers and tongue and give him what he’s been dreaming of for months – the sight of your pretty body convulsing up in an orgasm, your cunt spasming and clenching down on him like a fucking vice.)

Towards the beginning of your sexual relationship you’ll find that more often than not he’s at a standstill, something that is more than obvious to you, and in moments like these it’s best if you just tell him what to do. When you take off your bra, breasts bared for him as he unabashedly stares, his lips parted and his eyes wide, guide his hand to squeeze at one, sighing at the sensation and telling him that it feels good baby, you can go a little harder if you want, too.

When he’s carefully (and almost tentatively) rubbing your back, giving you a massage and doing his best to relieve your back pain without hurting you, moan out his name and tell him right there, god Asahi you’re so good at this. It’ll leave him blushing and squirming, his cock growing hard and suddenly he’s hearing your moans as moans, seeing the pleased expressions on your face as being expressions of pleasure.

You need to follow his every action up with a bit of praise the first few times you fuck – when he slips a finger or two inside, bite your lip and make a show of gasping, telling him that he feels so good, please Asahi, just like that!

When he’s going down on you for the first time, tangle your fingers through his hair and tell him that he’s doing so well, it feels so – so good Asahi, mmm please don’t stop! And when he fucks you for the first time, gasp sharply and moan, tell him that he’s s-s0 big! Stretches me out so good, ngh –

(Asahi has always seemed gentle to you, even after having kidnapped you – tall, sure, but more afraid of his own shadow than anything. But once you moan that out, that gentle man you’re familiar with is gone – you realize just how strong he really is as his hips crash into yours, your cunt stretched and nearly split open with the sheer power and vigor of his thrusts, each one seeming to reach deeper inside of you, coming faster and faster until your moans at all forced, genuine incoherent nonsense slipping from your lips because god, you’ve never been fucked like this before – this fully, this desperately.)

He loves to know that he’s the one making you feel so good, making you cry out and curl your toes. When you say things like ‘so good Asahi’, or ‘yes, just like that’, he’ll become a blushing, flustered mess, but it’ll only drive him even further in his mission to please you, to get you to come.

After all, in his mind, your pleasure is so much more important than his own, and he’ll give you anything and everything he possibly can to get your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your pussy clamping down around him.

His actions will pick up speed and eagerness, and if you weren’t so fucked out while he’s got his tongue against your clit or his cock stretching you out, you’d be able to practically feel the desperation to get you to orgasm rolling off of him in waves.

He just wants to know that what he’s doing is feeling good, that you’re enjoying him, that you’re loving this wonderful intimate moment as much as he is. He loves your vocalness, and it helps his confidence to hear you so openly praising him and his body.

So tell him, while he’s hovering over you, his cheeks flushed, his hair falling in waves over his shoulders and a few beads of sweat rolling down his temples, how big he feels inside of you, how you’re sure that nobody could fuck you like Asahi can, and he’ll make the cutest little gasp, before he’s thrusting into you even harder, burying his face into your neck and chanting your name over and over.

He loves it.

Breeding

But unlike a lot of men, this kink doesn’t stem exclusively from a sense of possessiveness or ownership over you. (Of course, he very much is possessive over you and hates the idea of another man interacting with you, but still.)

Instead, Asahi’s fascination with the concept of breeding you mostly stems from a genuine desire to knock you up. Asahi craves a domestic life with you; the mere idea of being one big, happy family is something that makes his heart melt, that makes him giddy with excitement and an embarrassed flush spread across the bridge of his nose. There’s so many cute, wholesome things that Asahi wants to do with his future children; family pictures, reading to them before bed, dressing them up in his latest fashion designs, making them go eww! when they see Mommy and Daddy kissing…

And when you step into the picture, this natural desire for children only steps up, increasing astronomically because Asahi genuinely believes that you’re his soulmate, the woman he’ll spend the rest of his life with, and he couldn’t be happier.

And while he’d never force it upon you, he really loves the idea of getting you pregnant and giving you the family that you both deserve. He wants to give you the baby he so desperately wants you to have, to see you softly rubbing your tummy and smiling at him, showing the world exactly who you love, who you choose to be with, who you’ll be spending the rest of your life loving and loyally staying alongside. He thinks he’d be a good father, in his oh so humble opinion, and that he’s completely, absolutely sure that you’d be a wonderful mother, and that together the two of you could have a happy, perfect family.

But of course, Asahi is no pure angel saint – he may not be the most possessive over you, but he can’t deny the wonderful side effects that come with pinning you down and breeding you. That is, there’s something about the fact that it’s his cock emptying load after load inside of you that gets him harder than he’s ever been in his life.

There’s something about the fact that it’s his name you’re moaning out to finish inside of you that makes him hot under the collar, his fingers twitching and his thighs flexing involuntarily because god, you’d sound so fucking good moaning his name.

The idea that it’s because of him that the cute little bump throwing your body off proportion even exists makes him feral, hands eagerly ripping at your clothes and slotting you in his lap, grasping at your hips and physically bouncing you up and down on his cock until he’s groaning your name and stuffing you full again and again and again, leaving you dripping white and smelling his cum, like him.

He’s not the most possessive yandere, sure, but even Asahi can get behind the idea of marking you as his own, of claiming you in the most natural, animalistic way. It satisfies something deep within him – the same thing that urges him to rush forward and keep you from getting too close to the open flames on the stove, the same thing that urges him to buy the pretty flowers on his way home from work and tuck one behind your ear. He’s never given much stock to gender stereotypes, but it just feels right to have you be his sweet little housewife, to be your big, strong protector, to be your provider in more ways than one.

And while bringing you gifts and keeping a roof over your head and warm food in your stomach are certainly ways he loves to provide for you, he’s more than willing to provide for your more carnal needs, too.

He’s more than happy to fill you to the brim with his cum, the sticky white dribbling out of you in big globs that he pressed back in with a thumb, voice shaky as he jokes about having to buy some sort of a plug just to keep everything inside.

(The next morning you find a pretty, purple plug on your bedside table, Asahi looking sheepish as he tells you that it’s the only way to really be sure, you know? Can’t have you wasting anything…)

He’s more than happy to keep his cock inside of you after he’s come, to make sure you’re plugged up, to keep you laying so that you’re hips are elevated, so that his cum will surely reach your womb, so that your body will have no choice but to give him exactly what he wants.

And during sex, the thoughts racing through Asahi’s head absolutely reinfornce this – as his high approaches, there’s a mantra repeating over and over in his head to come inside her, fuck a baby into her, get her pregnant so she’ll never leave you.

His hips will speed up, the sound absolutely obsene as he throws your legs over his shoulders, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he watches your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts, the mental image of you swollen and round and so fucking fertile leaving his head spinning and oh fuck fuck fuck –

He’s coming with a whine of your name, burying his face into your neck and grasping tightly onto your breast, chanting your name under his breath and pressing himself just a bit deeper inside, anything to try and increase the chances of it taking.

The idea of knocking you up clouds his senses as his hips plow into you, the sensation so overwhelming that he’s nearly crying, but fat tears welling up and streaming down his face to land on your own while he clutches onto your hand, the emotional end of realizing that he might get you pregnant hitting him at full speed and making him dizzy with desire and love.

He’ll oftentimes whisper sweet nothings about how beautiful you’ll look, how much he wants to give you children, how deeply he wants to come inside while his hips are pounding away, practically ramming into your cervix with each powerful, passionate thrust.

He loves the idea of having a baby with you, and it’s just an added bonus that giving it to you feels so good.

Size kink

No matter your size, Asahi will be taller, stronger, bigger.

He’s six feet tall, muscular, and despite his timid disposition, he’s very much a force to be reckoned with. Despite transitioning to a career less focused on physical prowess, Asahi largely retained his physique.

He’s a little softer now, the muscles covered by a small layer of fat, but he’s still got definition lining every inch of his body, the short-sleeved t-shirts he wears doing very little to hide the outline of his biceps. When his shirt rides up as he pulls his hair back into its signature bun, it’s impossible to miss the way he seems to tower over everything and everything, his presence something commanding the room, making everyone else just feel so small.

And while none of it is on purpose, Asahi slowly notices with time just how pronounced this difference is.

He sees it in the way that your palms compare as he timidly snake his hand against yours, swallowing heavily and avoiding eye contact because god, not only are your hands soft and warm, they’re practically engulfed by his, the sight making something scratch at the back of his throat.

He sees it in the way that your arms just barely wrap around his torso when you hug him, your fingers lacing together. (Of course, this took him a very long time to notice – he was too flustered by the fact that you’re hugging him to really notice any details, and even then he’d been too preoccupied by the feeling of your clothed breasts pressing against his chest, willing everything in himself to not get hard, to not let the blood rush to his cock as he imagines the way your legs would feel wrapped around his waist.)

As time passes, Asahi discovers that not only is he noticing these things, but there’s something about the sight that gets him hot under the collar, his breathing more strained than usual and his voice coming out a bit crackly.

And really, this kink stems from his protectiveness of you and his need to feel like your savior, but there’s just something about having you underneath him, seeing how small your body is in comparison to his own that really gets to him.

The idea of you being a fraction of his size, of your body being so much cuter, tinier, and softer than his own is something that makes Asahi blush, the red spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down to his collarbone, the idea that you’re such opposites yet so perfect for one another simultaneously warming his heart and begging him to fuck you because he just loves you so much.

And while your size difference is something that Asahi has always rationally known about, it’s so much different to actually see it, to be physically forced to recognize that he’s just so big compared to you.

When you’re naked below him, looking up at him with those vulnerable, beautiful eyes while you clutch the pillow underneath your head and shakily swallow, Asahi is hit with the sudden realization that you so clearly need him, need his help to do everything, and that includes turning you into a panting, drooling mess with his fingers, tongue and cock.

He loves the foreign surge of dominance he feels, how powerful and manly it makes him feel to see you under him, looking up at him like that, your lips swollen and puffy from kissing and biting them, from enjoying the pleasure he’s so focused on delivering to you.

He loves watching you take his cock; how it stretches you out to the point where you’re tensed up, fisting the sheets and telling him to slow down because you need time to adjust to his massive length.

(Of course, Asahi immediately stops, panic eating away at him because what if he hurt you? There’s not a sadistic bone in his body, and when you have to tell him things like that it only reminds him how easily he gets lost in you, how quickly he succumbs to the carnal urge to just fuck you so hard that you’re screaming his name and showing everyone exactly who owns the tight little pussy he’s fucking and filling with his cum.)

He loves to intertwine his fingers with yours while he thrusts into you, marveling at how his fingers dwarf your own while his cock stretches you out so fully, so completely that it’s almost visible against the skin of your navel.

He’ll purposefully fuck you in positions that really showcase this difference in size, too – of course his favorite is missionary, getting to look at you while he slowly rolls his hips into yours, but there’s something exquisite about folding you into a mating press, too. The way he’s strong enough to practically force your ankles up to your ears, his entire body hovering over yours as he pounds into you, watching the way you seize up because the angle is just so fucking deep.

It’s not his favorite, but he’ll fuck you from behind, the position slowly morphing from doggy into prone bone as he becomes more and more desperate for you, soon laying almost completely on top of you while his hips stutter into yours, the sensation of warm cum flooding you and the feeling of Asahi in every inch of your space making your head spin.

Even non-penetrative positions have this effect on him – watching you settle between his legs and eagerly jerk him off gets him clutching onto the nearest surface, the sight of your fingers, so small and sweet and pretty compared to his own, making his knees feel weak because fuck you’re so delicate compared to him.

And god, your mouth? It’s over for him the moment that your lips wrap around his tip, the sight of a much-too-big cock forcing its way down your throat threatening to bring him to orgasm much, much too soon.

Every part of him is bigger, and he just loves how obvious his muscles and height make it that he’s the protector in the relationship, that he’s the one providing for you, keeping you safe, keeping you happy.

Because after all, he’d do anything to keep you happy.

OTHER NOTABLE KINKS INCLUDE:

Hair pulling

Quite honestly, Asahi’s not sure where this kink came from. His scalp has always been a bit sensitive, his hair silky and in remarkably good shape for little he brushes it, for how poorly he cares for it. And while he’s kept it long for all of his adult life, he’s still just the slightest bit insecure about being a man with long hair – the lingering stares of others making him slump his shoulders a bit, wishing they’d stop staring.

And so, he’s never really viewed his hair as something sexual – no girl has ever really pulled it, and on the rare occasions when he’s touched himself, a hand never manages to travel north of his chest.

And even on the more practical side of things, he’s never really been one for pain, for enjoying the stinging sensation of sharpness against his skin, of feeling the dull throb of a bruise being pressed on. He’s never really found it to be sexy, and by extension he’s never bothered to explore hair pulling.

But then he becomes intimate with you and as he’s kissing you, tongue tracing the shape of your teeth and moaning into your mouth he feels it –

Your nails scraping against his scalp, digging in and grabbing a fistful of hair, pulling and tugging.

He actually moans, the sound high and whiny and so girly it nearly makes him cry, but he can’t help but beg you to do it again, a hand coming up to secure your place against his scalp.

There’s just something about the your fingers tunnel into his hair, gripping the brown locks between your nimble fingers while his tongue works fast, desperate circles against your clit, his fingers curling and arching just the way you told him to. Every tug at his hair drives him to work harder, to suck harder and lick faster because he just wants to please you, and the way you’re mixing pain with pleasure is making his hips buck against the mattress, unable to control himself as he whines against your cunt.

When your nails lightly scrape against his scalp, Asahi can’t help but close his eyes and moan, the vibrations going straight up your spine as he doubles his efforts, wanting to get you to come to an almost unhealthy degree.

And yet, as your hands pull harder, coaxing him into fingerfucking you harder, moving in the specific motion against your clit he knows you love, all you can do is throw your hair back and moan, little gasps of oh Asahi, oh please – I’m so close, don’t stop!

There’s something about the light touch of pain that makes him shiver, that makes the excitement stand up at the back of his neck, his eyes growing dilated and his efforts even more vigorous because fuck, you deserve to come, and by god is Asahi going to be the man to do it.

It’s become a staple of him giving you head – you always burrow your fingers into the loose, flowing brown locks, pulling him ever closer to your sopping cunt, something Asahi couldn’t be happier about.

And if you really want to leave him a flustered, panting mess, lightly tug at his hair without any warning in a non-sexual context – reach over during breakfast and give a light tug and you’ll see in real time as his face turns red, gaping like a fish and letting a hand drop his fork and wander down to his crotch, the table covering his motions. (Though the sound of a zipper slowly undoing is hardly difficult to identify, nor is the way the slick, clicking noises echo through the room as he shakily tells you to f-finish your breakfast…)

Lingerie

Perhaps it’s a result of his heightened attention paid to fashion, or perhaps it’s just Asahi’s nature, but as his infatuation with you develops, so too does his desire to see you all dressed up for him.

He doesn’t view you as a doll, per se, but Asahi finds that one of his guiltiest pleasures is to put you in clothing he designs specifically for you – pretty colors and cuts he thinks accentuate your curves, always sucking in a sharp breath and muttering out this awed, overtly genuine wow that makes you too embarrassed to respond.

And it’s sweet, more than anything, because the dresses and outfits he creates for you really are flattering – except that as your sexual relationship develops, he starts taking certain liberties, his creations becoming more and more risqué.

The lingerie he designs for you is tasteful, at least – it’s flattering as well, always in shades of pinks, reds, and white to enhance your natural coloring, his fingers always trembling when he helps you put them on, catching a bit of lace between his thumb and index finger and sighing out your name in a tone much too airy to be normal.

You look absolutely stunning – and he finds that fucking you with the lingerie still decorating your body only makes his kisses more heartfelt, longer, more needy because you’re just so damn pretty all dressed up and practically wrapped up like a gift for him.

But really, where’s Asahi’s true lingerie kink lies is not in you wearing it, but rather in him wearing it.

It’s beyond embarrassing to him and something that would take a long time for him to admit, but there’s a certain part of him that would actually like to try on a few of the lingerie sets he sees in magazines, tv and social media. Some of them are just so fucking pretty, soft pastels with lots of lace and ruffles, things that scream feminine and soft, pretty and fuckable.

And while Asahi knows he’s supposed to be the ‘man’ in the relationship, it’s a guilty pleasure that he just can’t shake – and so, when you one day catch him staring at an ad for a brand new baby blue two piece set on his phone, you ask him if he’s going to get it, cocking a brow at him because it’s rare for him to ever buy you lingerie sets rather than make them himself.

(He’d told you once that he can fit them to your body better than any manufacturer can. And what he hadn’t told you is that there’s a certain allure to knowing that you’re wearing something that he made you, not some unknown, random worker with no appreciation for you or your beauty.)

Immediately Asahi is scrambling to cover it up, nervously chuckling and denying your words, but when it shows up the next day and Asahi mumbles if you’d be willing to um, give me an opinion about something, you’re intrigued. And as you open the door to reveal him, familiar brown eyes are unable to meet your own gaze, his body language clearly nervous at your scrutiny.

But really, the sight of the six foot tall, burly man clad in the soft material hugging his body and bringing out the natural tan color of his skin leaves you oddly breathless, the sight strangely bizarre and erotic.

The bra cups are a bit loose, though you can still see his pretty, pink nipples hard as a rock underneath the sheer material. The bra may be loose, but the pair of lacy, red panties most certainly are not – his cock threatens to burst out of it at any moment, his balls hanging on by a thread to stay inside of the dainty fabric.

And when you take a few steps forward, looking at him with wide eyes, he feels his heart drop when you say oh Asahi, you’re so beautiful.

(If you look closely enough, you can see his balls visibly clench at the compliment, the skin angry and red at the tightness of the panties.)

So while it’s not the manliest thing, Asahi can’t deny that it makes him feel good, and you’re always so touchy and sweet when he’s wearing it.

And so when he’s in more of a submissive mood, wanting you to take care of him, dote on him, love him and show him that you’re just as desperate and hopelessly in love as he is, he throws it on and sits patiently on the bed, waiting with baited breath for you to pull the strap out and make him feel like a good little boy.

(And god his moans are pretty, his little gasps and whines when you toy with the fabric making you power-hungry, the sight of his cute little hole clenching as you toy with him, bent over and panties pushed to the side is the stuff of fantasies – he’s just so fucking obedient when he’s all dressed up for you.)

BIGGEST FANTASY:

Going hand in hand with his breeding kink and his want of starting a family with you, Asahi has a few guilty pleasures when it comes to the idea of a pregnant you.

He just can’t help it – his biggest domestic fantasy is having a family with you, and every time he sees a pregnant woman out and about something inside of him just snaps, the flood of images of you all knocked up making his knees nearly buckle.

(Of course, in these images you’re sometimes clothes and sometimes not – the clothes, when included, are always too small, making your breasts look even bigger and your stomach ever rounder.)

Something about the roundness of your body, how your curves are enhanced, how you look so fucking fertile really gets to him, especially with how your breasts begin to swell.

Something about watching as your nipples begin to darken, your areolas get larger, and the way the flesh begins to hang heavier, looking so full and ready to be emptied really gets to him, sparking some odd, primal instinct in him that he didn’t even know he had.

He’s staring constantly, brown eyes darting to the way his t-shirts are stretched taut against your belly bump and engorged breasts, how you look so perfect and domestic and like a real mother.

He’ll be much too shy to say anything, too nervous at your rejection of the fantasy he holds close to his heart, but he really wants nothing more than to just latch onto a leaking, aching nipple, wrap his lights tightly around it, circle his tongue over the sensitive skin, and suck.

He wants to taste you; feel the white liquid against his tongue, nurse off of you in such a human, natural way.

He almost feels as if it’s his reward - he put the baby inside of you that’s causing you to produce, he’s the one heading to work everyday, making money to bring back to you and your slowly growing family.

He’s the one that spent hours between your legs, fingering your pretty cunt and giving you load after load after load of hot, potent cum.

He’s your protector, and it’s his deepest fantasy to be rewarded for all his hard work with your breastmilk. He’ll never, ever admit it, but when he fondles your breasts and nibbles at them, sucking at them with a vigor you’ve never experienced before, those are the thoughts racing through his mind.

“I’m home!” Asahi calls, closing the front door and letting out a small, satisfied sigh at the sight of his little home. Touches of your style are everywhere - the couch has your favorite color throw pillows, your favorite art is on the walls, pictures of the two of you hanging in frames on the shelf above the fireplace on the far side of the living room. It makes him smile, something warm and fuzzy settling in his chest.

He slips his shoes off, shrugging off his coat and venturing further into the house. Normally you’d be in the kitchen by now, preparing dinner and wanting to have a nice meal while the two of you discussed your days, telling one another how much you missed the other. When he doesn’t find you in the kitchen, his brow arches and he calls your name once more, a small pang of panic bolting through him at the thought of you not responding.

“Oh! You’re home!” He hears you exclaim from behind him, and heaves out a small sigh of relief. He turns around with a soft smile on his face, but that smile vanishes as soon as he takes in your appearance.

You’re wearing one of his old tee shirts, the material a bit light and comfortable, and a pair of your favorite panties peeking out from under the hem. You look so fucking pretty that it takes him a moment to register your words, brown eyes dilating and focusing on the sight of you in his shirt, the smooth expanse of your thighs, the smile on your face that gets his knees weak. But as he takes in the full sight of you, something else catches his eye – immediately saliva is pooling against his tongue, his fingers twitching and his tongue flicking out to lick over his lips.

Two small, uneven pools of wet form right over the swell of your breasts, staining the fabric a darker shade and making his mouth water slightly. The sight of your chest straining heavily against the shirt has him taking a step forward hastily, aching to get closer and closer.

You notice his staring, and you scratch the back of your neck a bit awkwardly. “Welcome home, love. Sorry, I was just about to go start pumping but the laundry had me busy. I lost track of time.”

He just nods, not able to take his gaze away from you. You blink, before quirking the corner of your lips up. Although your husband had never asked, you’d noticed his affinity for your chest increasing tremendously after you’d begun lactating - he thought he was smooth when he’d oh so innocently walk in on you with your pump, watching your milk fill up the bottle, but you knew better. The fixation in his eyes as he stared was telling, the way he’d play with his hands and fingers, struggling to keep eye contact with you making it oh so apparent. And so, with a confidence that only he could allow you to develop over the years, you realize that maybe it was alright that you hadn’t started dinner quite yet.

You bite your lip and slowly walk up to him, until you’re close enough to hear the slight wheeze in his breaths. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob as his eyes dart between your face and your breasts, trying to decide where to look. You almost laugh. “Asahi...I have an idea, if you’d be willing to try it out.”

His gaze meets yours with a bit of reluctance, and his brows tighten. “S-sure! What did you have in mind?”

You smile, leaning up on your tippy toes and placing a kiss against his cheek. “Well, since I haven’t started dinner yet, and I didn’t get to start pumping, and you’ve been gone all day, working hard and making me proud, I think you deserve a little reward.”

Asahi visibly flushed at this, and his eyes widened a bit. “A reward? What do you mean?”

You bite your lip, reaching out to take one of his large hands into your own, before carefully placing it over one of your breasts. He gasps sharply, his entire body tensing as he feels the wetness underneath his palm. You look up at him, doing your best to give him as seductive and sultry a look as you can muster.

�� “Well, I was thinking that maybe I could give you a little treat? As a thank you for everything that you do for me. It’s been waiting all day, and I’m so, so full… would you like that? Do you want a little snack as a reward?” You ask, watching his reaction carefully. His brown eyes are so warm, so genuinely shocked, and for a second you almost wonder if he’ll say no, or push you away. But before you can take back your words, he’s eagerly nodding, walking you backwards into the living room and settling you down into a sitting position on the couch. He crouches below you, on his knees in between your legs, still in the nice clothes he’d worn to work today. You grab the hem of your shirt, carefully lifting it over you and throwing it to some unknown part of the room. The cold air hits you, and you feel your nipples harden and the skin of your breasts tighten up.

Asahi lets out a mix between a moan and a whimper at the sight of your bare chest, staring in awe with his mouth open. When you see him not moving, you carefully reach your hands up, cupping your breasts and gently squeezing, causing a small stream of milk to leak out of each nipple.

“Darling, don’t you want your reward?” You ask, squeezing extra hard, sending a spurt of liquid out, his eyes following the arc as he licks his lips.

Asahi gulps, a low growl escaping him as he gently pulls your hands away, instead latching his mouth around a nipple and sucking -

You sigh softly, the feeling of his lips applying pressure and his tongue swiping over your nipple much more erotic than you had been expecting. His lips work against you, tongue swirling against your sensitive areolas as his cheeks hollow. He moans against you, the taste of you overwhelming his senses and setting his body alight with pleasure. He can feel his pants growing uncomfortably tight, but he just sucks harder, listening to your coos and cries above him.

His hand reaches out to cup your other breast, squeezing a bit more firmly and watching the milk leak, before he leans back, releasing the nipple from his mouth with a popping sound, and squeezes once more, harshly, watching as a stream of milk arcs through the air and directly into his parted, awaiting mouth. You both moan, and he swallows. He rubs his fingers over your nipples, and looks up at you, licking his lips.

“I think it’s time you showed me just how good you taste down here, too.” He says, grinding his clothed erection against your crotch. You moan, nodding your head and tangling your fingers into his hair, watching his eyes flutter closed at the sensation.

And, thirty minutes later as he’s pulling out of you, hissing slightly at the overstimulation, Asahi can only pant, a hand once again coming up to lightly squeeze at your breast, the kiss he gives you heated enough to have you melting against the mattress, too relaxed to even notice the way he pushes himself back in again, gasping into your mouth and pushing through the overstimulation because he needs this, needs you.

After all, he can never get enough of you.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere asahi #yandere asahi azumane #haikyuu smut #_haikyuu #_asahi azumane #_lee's profiles

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spatialwave · 6 months ago

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“𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵”

pairing: the ghoul x fem!reader word count: 4k summary: after two weeks of traversing the wasteland with cooper on the search for a common enemy, you found yourself needing some… relief. it just so happened that you weren’t alone in the sentiment. warnings: mdni! smut, choking, praising, cooper likes complimenting you while he fucks you. 🖤 notes: continuation of this post!

travelling with cooper started as a forced necessity, one that you hadn’t been able to make an executive decision on, but the feeling of that rope around your neck had been long forgotten as you both careened through the wasteland together. cooper had proved his loyalty to you, a surprising feat that you had never imagined being possible. if there was even an ounce of kindness or empathy within that man, it was invisible to the naked eye. he did a damn good job at hiding any and all outward emotion, reeking of wit, sarcasm and cockiness.

yet, you had been gifted with seeing another side of the ghoul, a side which made you wonder what sort of feelings he harbored for you. it was a tricky thought and easy to get lost in it, especially as you wandered behind him and were given ample time to just… stare.

each night you were greeted with his hands in your hair, gloveless fingers pulling through the strands and sometimes tickling against your cheek until you fell asleep. his lap had become your pillow, and his jacket was your bed and blanket.

neither of you spoke about it, most mornings waking up as though your nightly intimacy had never happened. you were thankful for it because you had no idea how to even comprehend how you felt for cooper.

love was too soon. infatuation was too strong.

you respected him. you cared for him. you appreciated the way he protected you.

you yearned for his touch.

each day as the hot sun burned your skin, you watched him from behind and imagined things about him. it started off as daydreaming about his fingers in your hair, rubbing along your scalp and how you couldn’t wait for night to come. soon, though, these thoughts drifted when you were greeted with a deep, familiar coiling in your stomach that came when you had spent enough time away from self pleasure.

guilt gnawed away when you found yourself dreaming about him in ways that made you squeeze your thighs. what would his lips feel like against yours? what sounds would come from his lips as he fucked you senselessly?

you rarely got far with your thoughts before you had to ask for a sip of water and a short rest, avoiding his groans of disapproval for slowing you both down.

cooper felt the same way, but the guilt riddled him far more than you could ever imagine. he had lived far longer in this world than you, he became a changed man—was once a loving father and husband who was betrayed and transformed into nothing but a merciless, murderous bounty hunter.

he knew better than to think of you in any way other than just a partnered traveler of the wasteland. war may have changed him, but there were morals that belonged to the old cooper howard that would remain forever.

you were so much younger than he was, an innocent little thing that had come to the surface after spending your whole life in a vault, all because you were so intent on saving a life and finding the truth. you had so much kindness and curiosity in your heart, once comparable to him when he was nothing more than a star for the masses. nothing good would come from him taking that innocence away from you, especially after what you’d experienced only a week prior at the hands of the man who wanted you in exchange for caps.

at night, his mind was pure filth when he thought about you as his fingers ran along your scalp, eyes watching the way your chest moved up and down. how your lips parted when gentle snores would escape.

you woke up alone most times, unaware that the reasoning was because cooper had to excuse himself in the early morning hours—a bit of relief.

you weren’t so lucky because he never left you alone.

“cooper,” you whined, smacking your lips audibly so he heard you from a few paces behind, “can we rest? i need water, and maybe something to eat.”

boots stopped in the sand as you two ventured closer to the mojave, foliage becoming distant as the hot sun and dry air took over. after some investigating, the ghoul had found some intel on the whereabouts of another peculiar vault dweller, presumably your father, who had made way for new vegas. the travels had become difficult now as civilization was few and far between, and you still hadn’t been given any alone time that you desperately needed.

cooper glanced over his shoulder at you, quirking a hairless brow curiously, “and how do you think we’re going make it through the desert if we’re stoppin’ every mile, sweetheart?” the nickname rolled off his tongue easily, but he hadn’t meant it so sweetly.

“i like you better at night,” you huffed at him as you trudged forward, walking past him and taking the lead, “you’re much nicer then.”

you could hear the sigh as heavy steps came up behind you, leather rustling as cooper fell in stride beside you so casually, “seems we see eye to eye on that matter,” he drawled, “you demand less when the moon is high, vaultie. the sound of you snorin’ means i can stop listenin’ to your yappin’,” he clicked his tongue, solidifying his point.

“you’re the worst,” you seethed quietly between your teeth, keeping your eyes ahead and doing your best to ignore the way his voice warmed your cheeks and butterflies swirled in your stomach.

nightfall came fast, thankfully, and the two of you had just managed to stumble upon a rickety old home nestled in a hilly area of the desert. it was full of enough sand and dust to know that no one had set foot in it for a long time—safe enough for you to settle down for a rest. cooper allowed you to indulge in your stores of water and jerky, only enough to keep your stomach from eating itself alive.

however, water and food wouldn’t sate your libido. as a small fire warmed you as the harsh cold of the desert chilled you to the bone, you tucked your knees to your chest and closed your eyes to focus on your breathing. you had never felt more like an animal in your life, when you were in the vault you may not have had tens of suitors at your disposal, but you had plenty of alone time and two very usable hands. you were used to indulging when arousal struck.

you felt awful. your mind should’ve been fixated on your father’s whereabouts, yet you rested your chin on your knees and squeezed your eyes shut as you tried not to think about cooper fucking you. he was sitting right next to you, for crying out loud.

as if he knew you were thinking about him, the cowboy ghoul looked over at you with a quiet sigh escaping him as he shrugged off his long, leather coat, “here. you’re gonna’ freeze to death before mornin’,” he spoke lowly, shifting so he could drape it over your shoulders until it covered much of your body, “desert nights aren’t for amateur adventurers.”

a shaky breath quivered from your lips as warmth enveloped you, and you couldn’t help but lean your body against his side to chase more. in response, you felt cooper’s body tense for a brief moment before his arm slowly wrapped over your shoulders and hugged you tight against his side.

silence surrounded you, much like cooper, and you found yourself quickly drifting into a much-needed sleep. unfortunately for you, you were afflicted with the curse of sleep-talking, especially when you were particularly stressed.

cooper’s eyes were fixated on the fire, red and orange embers burning on the old wood as the smoke bellowed out the open windows. he’d been lost deep in his thoughts, wondering how he was letting himself get so soft for someone he hardly knew—then you started mumbling in your sleep. words mostly unintelligible.

“mmh,” you grunted, your eyes squeezing tight as you tilted your face toward cooper, nose brushing against the tight, weathered skin on his neck. it made his breath catch in his throat, “cooper.”

his eyes flickered down to you, tilting his chin just enough so he could see the way your eyes were moving behind their lids, dreaming vividly. he knew that he should wake you up, or at least give you a slight nudge so you would turn away or move down to rest over his lap, but curiosity won. he licked at his lips as you furrowed your brows, your breath hitching in your throat as you choked on what he could only imagine was a moan.

“please,” you slurred quietly, “cooper, don’t… stop.”

“vaul—“ cooper’s nickname for you was cut short when your hand had slithered past the confines of the coat and right over the bulge that tented in his pants, gentle fingers rubbing, “shit.” he hissed, fighting back a low grumble as he watched with half-lidded eyes.

there was no turning back now, not when he flickered his gaze to look over your face, only to be met with your own tired eyes, just barely open. shit.

“i really need this,” you murmured, inhibitions long gone as the night sank in, “please.”

“you need to think long and hard about this, darlin’,” cooper managed to keep his voice level as his gloved hand reached for yours and pushed it until it rested on his thigh.

“i’ve thought about it for a whole week,” you pleaded, fingernails scratching at the fabric of his pants.

there was the smirk you were hoping to see, cracking his lips apart as a laugh whistled out of him, “well, now, a whole week is quite some time to be keeping these feelings at bay without actin’ on ‘em. maybe you’ve got more willpower than i thought.”

you swallowed thickly, pulling away from him just enough so you could sit straighter, “don’t tease me,” you spoke, jutting out your bottom lip in a pout that made heat pool in the pit of his stomach, “i can very much tell you need this as much as i do.”

when his lips twitched you knew you had him right where you wanted him, there was no sense in him denying it. not when you could take one quick glance down to see the trouble you’ve caused for him.

“you think you know what i need?” cooper’s voice, as thick as molasses, made a shiver run down your spine. he lifted a hand after snagging the glove off, caressing your jaw as his calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip. long gone were the thoughts that worried about morals, you had each other pinned and the outcome was inevitable.

“i do,” you said as you shifted in your spot, “you can touch me. i’m not going to break.”

that roused a laugh deep from cooper’s chest, a smile breaking across his lips, “oh, trust me, if you were gonna’ break you would’ve shattered when i first lassoed that rope around your precious neck,” he grinned, “you are somethin’ else—a real force to be reckoned with.”

you parted your lips to speak, but your breath was quickly taken when cooper’s pressed against yours and within seconds your entire body was on fire. arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck, the leather jacket falling off of your body as you moved to your knees for better support. you fought for air as you kissed him with desperation, hands clinging tight to his collar as you slipped so easily onto his lap with your knees on either side of his hips.

his hands slid up the side of your body, caressing your curves as your tongues pressed together and moans muffled in each other’s mouths. with ease, one hand moved to your front so he could tug down at the zipper on your vault outfit, just like the one he’d worn many moons before.

you broke the kiss so you could lean back and take a breath, your chest heaving with each inhale as you helped him remove the jumpsuit until it slid off your shoulders and left you in the white tank top that hugged tight against your breasts. not once did you feel judged under his gaze, in fact, his appreciation for your boldness was palpable, especially as he wore that shit-eating smirk while his fingers slipped under the hem of your top. his skin was rough against yours that had been mostly untouched from the harsh sun rays, it made you tilt your head back and let out a soft sound.

“i wanna’ hear more of those delicious sounds,” cooper’s voice was heavy in your ear as he leaned forward and brushed his lips against your jaw, hands grabbing tight at your bare hips and fingers digging into the skin.

he wasn’t afraid to handle you rough, squeezing a whimper out between your plump lips as he forced your hips to roll against his. both of you relished in the friction, you could feel his hardened cock buried underneath his clothing as it pressed against your aching cunt. it clenched around nothing pathetically as you rubbed yourself against him with need.

“fuck,” you breathed out shakily as you kept your hips grinding forward in a steady motion, feeling like you could cum like this—but cooper wasn’t going to have any of that.

“language, darlin’” he teased, his teeth dragging across your skin as his lips kissed down your neck, nipping at your skin so he could hear your soft mewls of pleasure as your fingers began hurriedly unbuttoning his shirt, rather poorly.

once rid of the fabric, your hands explored over his body, the skin thick and rough like leather, far different than anything you’ve experienced or known to be true. as your eyes fixated on his body in the firelight and your fingernails scratched at the surface of his chest, you shuddered when he slipped your shirt off and revealed your tits for him to ravage at his leisure.

you had felt selfish for so long, telling yourself that being on the surface meant giving up parts of your old life. pleasure wouldn’t be easy to come by, if at all. there were important things to focus on, lives to save.

yet, here you were—laying on your back over cooper’s leather jack as his hands tugged off the remainder of your vault suit and tossed it behind him. he was settled on his knees before you, so close to you that you were forced to spread your legs on either side of him.

long fingers pressed against your panties, the fabric between your legs soaking wet as he teased you. you could hardly meet his eyes, keeping your own closed as you felt him tug the fabric aside so he could press a digit to your swollen clit. his thumb circled it slowly and you squirmed underneath him, but his other hand pressed against your stomach to keep you flat against the floor.

“keep still, my girl,” he murmured as he pushed a finger into your pussy, happy to find that a second slid in just as easily, “now look at you takin’ my fingers so well, you must’ve been needin’ this for a real long time. i suppose i can reward that patience of yours,” he praised you through tender movements, each thrust of his two fingers causing moans to spill from your lips as you squeezed your cunt around them, “good girl.”

being praised by cooper was a delightful surprise, warmth hitting your cheeks when you opened your eyes and saw him staring down at his fingers while he fucked you with them.

“oh, fuck—“ your breath caught in your throat when he curled his fingers, rubbing against the spot that always made you cum. you pulled your knees back so you could press your thighs together around his hand, growing overstimulated. that barely lasted for a second before cooper forced them back apart, the speed of his fingers picking up until he was fucking you relentlessly, your pussy dripping wet and coating his fingers. you hadn’t even taken his cock yet and your mouth was wide open and eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head as pleasure coursed through your body.

you moaned out his name loudly, your throat growing hoarse as the knot in your stomach wound tight.

cooper let out a heavy sigh, his hand pressing over your lower stomach and his thumb flicking over your clit, “i need you to cum, darlin’.”

that’s all the encouragement you needed to hear before you came on his fingers, squirming and touching as his fingers fucked you through the orgasm—his other hand tugging at his belt buckle.

“oh, goodness,” you breathed, your eyes fluttering as your senses slowly returned to you and you could finally get in a deep breath—but that hadn’t lasted very long, “ah, fuck!”

you tilted your chin down and hadn’t even noticed that cooper had unbuttoned his pants just enough to let his cock spring out. you weren’t given a chance to see how big he was before he was pushing it inside of you. you could already tell he was bigger than anything you’ve taken before as it stretched out your pussy, pain shooting through you as you whimpered loudly.

“shh,” cooper pressed a finger to your lips, trying to quiet you down as he pushed his hips forward until his cock was deep inside. you wouldn’t stop with the mixture of moans and pained whimpers, so cooper shoved two fingers into your mouth and you sucked on them like a bitch in heat, “fuck.”

both of you needed time to adjust, you could see cooper’s chest moving as he breathed heavily and you could feel his cock twitching. his free hand settled on your hip as he leaned back on his heels, the fingers in your mouth retreating to instead fondle your perfect tits. he was positioned nicely, able to indulge in the sight as his cock slowly pulled out of your swollen cunt, large hand now pressed against your lower stomach to keep you still as he rocked his hips in a slow, steady rhythm.

the ghoul’s mind was far from what was right and wrong. he was hyper focused on how you looked in this moment, your pretty face completely fucked out and full of euphoria. your chin wet from his fingers and your thighs squeezing against his hips to ground yourself from the size of his cock as it filled you completely with each roll of his hips.

slow didn’t last long—cooper didn’t have the patience, nor the need to go slow. he knew you were a capable young thing, able to take his cock easily as he leaned forward enough so his hand could instead wrap around your throat. his hips snapped against yours mercilessly in one quick thrust, a violent rhythm following after that made you want to scream at the pleasure that made your entire body shake. you swore you’d never felt someone fuck you so deeply, a gurgled moan choked in your throat as he forcefully kept you quiet, pressing on your windpipe.

“keep takin’ it,” cooper groaned, sweating beading on his forehead as his cock slammed so deep inside you that tears welled up in your eyes from the ache, “you’re good at taking a cock, vaultie, i should’ve fucked you senseless sooner.”

you were unable to answer his vulgar words with your jaw slack.

he fucked you like this for a good while, your hands lifting up to press flat against his chest and stomach. he continued to litter you with praises and compliments, words you were certain you’d only hear under this circumstance—you hoped this wasn’t the only time you’d be fucked by him.

your body was growing weak with each passing second, but you were able to offer enough energy to sit up as cooper pulled you along with him as he sat and leaned back against the wall. you were straddling him once again, your knees raw against the sandy floorboards as his hands guided you to slowly bounce up and down.

your hands rested over his shoulders for support and soon you had enough strength to fuck yourself on his cock just like he wanted, giving him the opportunity to sit back and watch your show.

you were desirable in his eyes, your cheeks red as you squeezed at his shoulders tight, long lashes fluttering as moans fell past your lips that he kissed so much they were plump and swollen. you were surprised that you were able to keep up a good rhythm, feeling him stretch you out each time you pressed your hips down on his. you wanted to talk to him, to tell him how good he felt or how you wanted him to toss you on your hands and knees and fuck you without holding back, but all you could do was moan his name as your head hung back and eyes fixated on the dim ceiling.

“fuck,” he hissed, leaning forward and pressing his lips against your ear as his thumb circled your clit, “i need you to cum on my cock now, darlin’,” he pleaded, breath hot and sending a shiver down your spine as you had slowly started to lose your strength, “be a good girl for me,” he cooed, and you were obedient.

much like when you exercised in the vault, you dug deep inside and gathered all your remaining strength, this time for the sake of pleasing yourself and the ghoul who had thrown his morals out the window for the sake of pleasure. cooper’s hand lifted so he could tilt your chin down, forcing your eyes to meet his as you bounced yourself steadily, “cooper,” you whined, “you… ah—fuck. don’t stop. please, please, please.”

your begging worked wonders. cooper’s thumb rubbed hard against your clit as he did his best to snap his hips upward each time you slammed down on his cock, meeting you halfway. his groans of pleasure were loud as both of you balanced on the edge of release, seconds away from letting that heat in your stomachs explode.

of course, you were the first to cry out so loud that cooper had to shut you up with his lips.

you came hard, your hips shaking and thighs twitching as you moaned his name as his tongue assaulted yours. you wanted to push him away and fall back onto the floor, to writhe on the ground in pleasure as your body could have a chance to relax…

but cooper wasn’t done yet. with both of his hands landing on your hips, he kept your sensitive cunt fucking his cock like you were just some toy. you were sensitive everywhere, your body hot to the touch and cunt abused by his cock, using a hand to cover your mouth as tears spilled down your cheeks each time he brushed against your cervix.

“shit,” he breathed, “you little killer.”

with a final, deep thrust of his hips, cooper came inside you with your name strangled in his throat. you could feel the bruising on your skin from his tight hands as you collapsed forward and buried your face into the crook of his neck.

your heavy breaths were the only sounds, aside from the crackling of the dying fire. both of your bodies were damp and sticky from sweat and cum—cold from the wind that blew through the open windows, so you curled up against his chest as his cock softened inside you. neither of you made a move, instead cooper reached for the leather jacket that had been under your body, putting it around your shoulders once more so the cool air was blocked for you both.

“we should… do that again.” you breathed on his skin, smiling when a weak laugh bubbled up from his throat, humoured by you.

finally, relief warmly greeted you both.

#fallout tv #cooper howard #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #fallout fic #cooper howard fic #the ghoul fic #wordsbyspatial #walton goggins #fallout prime

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internet-rat · 4 months ago

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Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

You know about his mommy issues, and embrace them~ NSFW below cut~

The heavy wooden door to the shared bedroom creaked open, and Aemond stepped in, the weight of the day's courtly battles evident in the rigidity of his posture and the slight furrow of his brow. The contrast between the harsh world of politics and intrigue and the serene, intimate ambiance of the bedroom was striking. As his lilac eye scanned the room and landed on you, adorned in the delicate pink silk that clung to your form like a whisper, a visible shift occurred within him.

Your soft yet commanding voice, layered with a deep understanding of his hidden desires, cut through the remnants of tension that clung to him. "Come to mommy, my pretty boy..." The words were like a key, unlocking a part of him reserved only for the sanctuary you provided. His battle-hardened facade began to melt away with each step he took toward you.

Aemond moved towards you, his expression transforming from the stoic, unyielding prince to a man yearning for the comfort and dominance only you could offer. The titles, the responsibilities, the expectations—all fell away, leaving behind just Aemond, vulnerable and seeking solace.

Reaching you, his strong arms enveloped you, pulling you against him with a desperation that spoke volumes of his need for your nurturing dominance. The cool silk of your gown pressed against him, a stark contrast to the warmth of your embrace, and he let out a long, shuddering breath, his body visibly relaxing.

"Your day was long, my love," you whispered, the authority in your voice soft but undeniable, guiding him to release the burdens he carried. "Let mommy take care of everything now."

Nuzzling into your neck, his breath hot against your skin, Aemond surrendered to the role you crafted for him, his identity as a prince second to his role as your 'pretty boy'. His response was whispered against your skin, filled with relief and adoration, "Yes, mommy...

As you undressed Aemond, your hands moved with a gentle, reassuring touch, easing the layers of his princely attire away from his broad shoulders and down his strong arms. Each piece of clothing that fell to the floor symbolized the shedding of his public persona, revealing the more vulnerable man beneath. Your soft kisses planted along his jawline and down his neck served as sweet rewards, punctuating your murmured praises.

"Such a good boy for me..." Your words were tender, laced with a dominant affection that resonated deeply within him. Aemond responded with a low, contented hum, his body relaxing further under your ministrations. The intimacy of your actions, the close proximity, and the warmth of your breath against his skin were intoxicating.

His hands, usually so commanding and sure, now trembled slightly as they reached up to touch your face, tracing the contours as if memorizing each detail. This reversal of their usual roles—him so open and yielding, you so nurturing yet commanding—was a dance they both cherished deeply.

As your lips met Aemond's, the kiss deepened with an urgent intimacy, your tongue exploring his in a tender yet assertive dance. The warmth and softness of your mouth against his was a stark contrast to the cool air of the room, enveloping him in a cocoon of comfort and arousal.

Your hands, skilled and knowing, trailed down his body with a possessive familiarity until they found their way to his arousal. Feeling his hardness, already slick with anticipation, you gently wrapped your fingers around him, your touch firm yet loving. The sensation of your hand on him, combined with the deep kiss, drew a low groan from Aemond, his body tensing and then relaxing under your control.

As your fingers tightened around him, your touch grew more insistent, stroking in a rhythm calculated to draw every shiver and sigh from him. Aemond's response was immediate and intense, his hips bucking slightly into your grasp, driven by instinct and overwhelming desire.

Hovering just inches from his face, your words tumbled softly yet dominantly against his lips, "Already so big and hard for me... Do you want to be inside me, pretty boy? Do you want to be inside mommy?" Each word was laced with promise and authority, stoking the flames of his desire even further.

Aemond's breath caught in his throat, his eye locking onto yours with a mixture of adoration and sheer need. The way you called yourself 'mommy' struck deeply into his core, tapping into his deepest fantasies and vulnerabilities. He nodded fervently, the verbal reply unnecessary when his body so clearly communicated his desperate 'yes.' His hands, trembling with need, reached up to touch your face, pulling you closer, as if trying to convey his longing with every ounce of his being.

"Please," he breathed out, the word a plea, a surrender, echoing the intensity of his need to be united with you completely, to lose himself in the comforting yet commanding presence that only you could provide.

As you positioned yourself above Aemond, the anticipation in his eye was palpable, a silent witness to the culmination of your shared desire. Carefully, you aligned yourself with him, and slowly—exquisitely slowly—you lowered yourself, taking him in completely. The sensation of filling and being filled was profound, both for you and for him, a perfect union that drew a deep, resonant moan from your lips.

"Mmm~ You feel so good inside of me, my darling..." Your voice was a melody of pleasure and affection, enveloping him as completely as your body did. The warmth, the tightness, the perfect rightness of the connection sent shivers through Aemond, his body responding with a primal urge to move.

As you rode him, the rhythm of your movements initially gentle and teasing, gradually intensified. The slow, deliberate motion transformed, gaining speed and urgency, responding to the mutual escalation of need. Your body moved with practiced grace, each rise and fall designed to heighten the pleasure spiraling between you. The sensation of him thrusting up into you in sync with your motions created a deep, rhythmic dance that resonated through your very cores.

Leaning down, your breath hot against his ear, you unleashed the soft yet commanding tone that you knew unraveled him completely. "Cum all the way inside mommy, darling... Can you do that, sweetling?" Your words, laced with a dominant affection, struck directly at his deepest desires, rendering him both helpless and ecstatic under your control.

Aemond's response was a choked gasp, his body tensing as the twin forces of your command and the overwhelming pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. His hands gripped you tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as if to anchor himself in the storm of sensation you were guiding him through. His eye, wide and focused entirely on you, mirrored the intensity of his internal struggle to obey, to surrender fully to the moment as you demanded.

"Yes, mommy... I—I will..." he managed to articulate, his voice a strained whisper of utter submission and desperate need. The pace you set and the words you spoke drove him closer to the edge, each thrust a step nearer to the release you commanded of him, his entire being focused on fulfilling the role you so expertly cast him in.

As you leaned forward, your movements became even more aggressive, riding him with an intensity that pushed both of you towards the brink. The shift in position allowed you to take him even deeper, and the sight of your body in full command, coupled with the sensation of your firm, relentless pace, was intoxicating to Aemond. Your long hair cascaded around his face, a silken curtain tickling his skin, a sensory addition that only heightened his arousal.

Grasping the bedframe for leverage, your arms showed the strain of your efforts, muscles flexing beautifully under your skin. You looked down at him, your eyes locking with his as you commanded in that irresistible tone, "Give mommy your cum~" The words were both a command and an invocation, spoken with such authority and seductive power that they left no room for anything but compliance.

Aemond was completely undone beneath you, caught in the storm of your dominance and the physical ecstasy you were driving him towards. His breathing grew ragged and desperate, each thrust meeting yours with an urgency that mirrored the rising tide of his climax. The combination of your commanding voice, the relentless pace, and the deep connection of your bodies was overwhelming.

With a groan that bordered on a growl, his body tensed, and he surrendered fully to the command you had given. His release was powerful, spurred on by your words and actions, a testament to the control you held over him in these moments. As he came, his eyes remained locked with yours, raw and open in a way that he showed to no one but you. His climax was a surrender not just of his body, but of his very self, given over to the care and command of his beloved.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen mommy issues #aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x yn #aemond x y/n #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fic

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powderpinkandsweeet · 5 months ago

Text

I’ve never written fanfic before, only read for like the past 15 years but I gotta make the content I want. Anyways don’t buy TLOU2 remastered.

Abby Anderson x Reader

Established relationship, (she/her) pronouns, nicknames like baby, honey, sweetie, smut, reader has trouble coming on her own because anxiety and trauma so Abby helps.

Upon first glance, you wouldn't have thought Abby was capable of being gentle. Upon joining the WLF, it didn't take long before you heard how ruthless and violent she could be in the field and on patrol. Strong as an ox with a piercing glare, you found her intimidating but found yourself watching her closely around the WLF stadium.

It didn't take long until your eyes had locked as she passed you by. Coming to know one another, Abby had felt as though she had known you for a lifetime. Never had she felt so comfortable in the embrace of another. Never had she felt this strongly for someone. Abby found herself yearning for your affection, almost desperate for your love and your touch. Thankfully, the feeling was mutual.

Relationships, feelings, and especially intimacy, can be difficult to navigate in the fragmented world you were unfortunate enough to live in. Previous attempts at relationships with boyfriends and subsequently girlfriends had been rocky, particularly in the bedroom. To be naked in front of them you felt vulnerable and under pressure. It was hard to relax and enjoy yourself when you were worried about the feelings and pleasure of another person. Faking orgasms became almost routine, and you grew to dislike being on the receiving end. You had come to think that something must have been wrong with you, so you stopped focusing on your own pleasure. Thus, you had only achieved orgasms by yourself, with intense effort and thoughts of a particular blonde, of course.

Despite your past experiences, being with Abby felt so easy. Love was no longer a one-way street. However as you grew to be more intimate, that familiar pit in your stomach grew.

Abby had come to your room after an exhausting patrol, wanting only to hold you in her arms and feel your warmth. She found you asleep, the blanket covering only one of your legs as you had thrown off the rest due to your tossing and turning. Dressed only in a thin white tank top and shorts that had ridden up, you snored softly as she admired your sleeping face. Abby toed-off her boots and quietly walked towards the bed. Softly running her fingers through your tousled hair, she planted a kiss on the top of your head. You stirred, grumbling while Abby rubbed your back and chuckled softly at your displeasure at being woken up.

When you realized it was Abby, you brightened up. You scrambled onto your knees on the bed to wrap your arms around her as she stood by the bed. "Welcome home... I missed you" you mumbled into her chest as you hugged her tight.

Abby brought her hand to your chin, nudging it upward so she could gaze into your eyes. She smiled, murmuring "I missed you more" as she leaned in to place a soft kiss on your pouting lips.

She pulled away to see your downturned eyebrows, "No, I missed you more" you told her as she laughed. "It's not funny!" you replied.

She blew a raspberry onto your cheek as you squealed, pulling back with a grin to say "it is when you pout like that, it's too cute."

As your laughing faded, you stared into one another's eyes. Abby leaned in, pressing her lips to yours. You met her with enthusiasm, letting your eyes fall shut as you relaxed into her touch. She sucked in your bottom lip, letting it go as she pulled away slightly. This made you gasp, opening your mouth to let her kiss you more deeply. Abby placed a knee on the bed, lowering you both down until she was atop of you, mouth still locked on yours. You whimpered as she bit down on your lip, feeling her smile into the kiss at your reaction. You pulled away with a gasp, out of breath. Looking up at Abby felt like looking at an angel, with a gold halo of hair and eyes that pierced down to your very soul.

Abby kissed down your cheek and neck, pulling at the bottom edge of your tank top and whispering in your ear "will you take this off for me, baby?" You quickly nodded, grasping the tank top and pulling it over your head.

Abby's gaze turned down to your breasts, reaching out with both hands to encompass them in her large palms. She squeezed, feeling their weight in her hands and letting out a shaky breath "you're so soft, angel." Embarrassed, you turned away and held a hand to your cheeks. Abby held back a smile, drawing a hand away from one of your breasts. Leaning down, she flicked the tip of her tongue against your nipple. You squeaked and turned your attention back to Abby, pulling your hands away from your face.

With half-lidded eyes locked on yours, Abby closed her lips around your nipple and sucked. As she drew her tongue in circles around it and sucked, you arched your back into her touch. Despite her rough exterior and calloused hands, she was so gentle. "Abby.." you sighed, panting as she backed away from one breast, only to bring her attention to the other.

Eyebrows pinched together, you found yourself frustrated and wanting more of Abby's touch. You could feel your panties sticking to your folds with how wet Abby was making you. But you were nervous, what if the same thing that happened last time, and the time before, and the time before, happened again? Would Abby be disappointed in you? Would she think that there was something wrong with you?

You were pulled from your reverie by the sound of Abby calling your name. You refocused, once again able to admire her above you. She looked worried. "Everything okay?" she tentatively asked, "do you want to stop?"

Did you? You had never wanted anyone the way you wanted Abby. Your nights alone were plagued with thoughts of her strong, veiny forearms and thick, long fingers. You often touched yourself, wishing your fingers could go deeper, faster, harder, like you thought Abby would. You could come on your own with her name on your tongue, but the real deal was entirely different.

At your prolonged silence, Abby sighed, sitting back on her heels and preparing to get off the bed. "Wait!" you called out while sitting up, "please don't stop, I'm sorry."

Her gaze softened, finding sincerity in your eyes. "You don't have to apologize, I don't want to force you to do something you aren't ready for."

"But I am! I think... I just don't want to disappoint you" you say, getting quieter as you go on.

Abby looks confused, "how could you disappoint me?"

"Well, I mean, it's embarrassing but I guess I just haven't had good luck with sex before... Like there's something wrong with me" you murmured with blushing cheeks, "like when I... receive, I guess... like I can't come unless it's just me. I don't want you to feel like it's your fault or that you can't please me if you don't make me come."

Abby held your face in both of your palms, "focus on me, okay? There's nothing wrong with you if you can't come with a partner, or if you don't come every time. I just want to make my pretty baby feel good. It's about having fun."

"But what about you?" you ask.

"What about me?" she asks with an eyebrow raised.

"Well... I want to make you feel good too" you say with shifting eyes.

Again, Abby laughs, "making you feel good makes me feel good."

You smile softly, comforted by her words and the warmth of her hands on your body. Somehow, she always knows what to say.

With your permission, Abby drags your white panties off your legs, not missing the string of arousal that breaks when she pulls them past your thighs.

Abby sits between your legs, admiring the mess she'd made of you without even taking your clothes off. Mouth watering, she felt the urge to taste that mess and clean it with her tongue. Dragging a hand down the base of your throat, between your breasts, and over your stomach. Resting her hand on your stomach, she looks up to you for permission. "Abby, please" you plead.

Satisfied for the time being, Abby swipes two fingers between your lips, lifting them to her mouth to get a taste. Her eyes roll back slightly, moaning into your taste "fuck, you're sweet." Now that she had a taste, she knew she would never get enough.

Lowering onto her forearms between your spread legs, Abby pressed a kiss to your clit before circling her tongue around it. You moaned together, her at finally tasting you and feeling you squirm on her tongue, and you at the warmth that was kindling in your stomach.

As you adjusted to the feeling, your moans quieted and became more infrequent. Abby was not pleased by this, pulling back to spit on your pussy and push a finger into you.

You gasped, not expecting the intrusion. Abby stilled her finger inside you before slowly beginning to move, pushing a second finger in when she deemed you ready. As Abby's fingers pumped faster, your moans picked back up, panting harder and feeling sweat dot your brow. Becoming more and more sensitive, your legs shook where they were pinned under Abby's strong forearms. You felt the burning in your stomach increase, rising to a fever pitch you could no longer ignore.

The familiar feeling of an approaching orgasm was stifled by the even more familiar feeling of self-doubt, causing your jaw and neck muscles to tense and clench. So many times before, you had lingered at the edge only to be pushed back by your insecurities. Your thoughts wandered to impatient partners, awkward goodbyes, and tears tracking down your cheeks as you spent the night alone. When your thighs attempted to snap shut, Abby's strong grip stopped you. Her pace didn't falter as your pleasure shifted into discomfort, only noticing as she briefly glanced up at your face. Instead of twisted in pleasure your expression was twisted, tears dotting your lash line that were from overwhelming emotions, not pleasure. Abby's fingers slowed to a stop, distress clouding her face as she patted your cheek with her palm. "Baby, look at me. Focus on me, okay? Just feel, feel my love for you" she said, gripping your thigh tight and forcing you to maintain eye contact with her. Eyeing you, Abby makes sure that she can still see that twinkle in your eye. You nodded, biting your lip and adjusting your legs around her.

With an excited and almost goofy grin, Abby wrapped her arms around your thighs, putting them atop her shoulders to prevent you from getting away. "Thank you for trusting me, my love," she murmured before taking your clit between her lips and flicking her tongue across it in fast motions. Again, she brought her fingers between your legs, pushing them in slowly. So much deeper than you could ever reach, she curls her fingers and you feel her hit something you've never been able to reach. Your stomach lurches, crying out in surprise as you feel a wave of pleasure come over you.

Realizing what she'd found, Abby starts to piston her fingers in and out of your pussy. Seeing you lost in pleasure, tears finally rolling down your face for the right reasons, Abby moans into your clit, making your hips jump into her mouth. Your moans grow in volume, becoming strained and guttural. If you were conscious of anything other than Abby and the wet sounds of her fingerfucking you, you would have been ashamed of the sounds you made.

The feeling in your stomach grew stronger, you felt so good and you didn't want it to stop. "Abby please... Ffffuck f-UCK please don't stop, please, please" you slurred, delirious with pleasure.

"Don't worry, honey. I won't stop. I won't stop 'til you come for me. I want to see that pussy come for me" Abby practically groaned from above you. Never had you heard something so filthy come from the mouth of your sweet Abby, but all you knew is you wanted more.

"Ngh, Abbyyy I can't, FUCK!" you grit out through your clenched teeth, tensing and holding your breath without realizing.

"Yeah you can baby, breathe for me. Relax and let me do the work honey, yeah come on" she panted. Honestly, her forearm was starting to cramp, but she could deal with it as long as she could.

You let out a shuddering breath, looking down at Abby and locking eyes with her. Despite the debauchery and her brutal pace, the sweetness hadn't left her eyes. Your Abby...

"Abbyyyy oh my god please... fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, fUCK" you squealed as you came. Abby didn't let up her pace, fingers continuing to fuck into you as each thrust drew a gush of come from around your fingers. She groaned as she tasted you, gripping your thighs harder as your legs thrashed and shook.

Abby withdrew her soaked fingers, a rim of cream circling the base, but found herself unable to pull away from you. Hazy eyed and pussy drunk, she bent back down between your legs to drag the flat of her tongue up from your hole to your clit, tasting a mouthful of your cream. You flinched and whimpered, reaching out to grip her blonde locks and pull her back, but you weren't strong enough. Overstimulated and shaky, you fell back to the sheets, a pale-knuckled grip on her hair with one hand and gripping the sheets with the other. "Abby... Abby... Abbyyy" was all you could manage to say, unintentionally egging her on. She pulled you in tighter, drawing a hand back from where it gripped your ass only to slap it back down and grip the cheek even harder. Surprised, you jump and cry out, coming again.

Hearing your scream, Abby's attention was drawn to your tired visage. After slowing down the pace of her fingers and getting one last taste of you, Abby pulled back to take you in. You looked gorgeous, sweat catching the light and giving you a glow, your breasts heaving as you panted, and your thighs trembled under her grip. Your eyes were hazy and half-lidded as you stared at the ceiling. 'Signs of a job well-done' Abby thinks to herself with pride.

Leaning down, Abby places a soft kiss on your tummy, between your breasts, on your nose, and finally on your lips. Pulling away with a smile, Abby says: "bet you've never been fucked like that before."

You groan and cover your face with your arms.

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #tlou 2 #wlw smut

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preeningpisces · 7 months ago

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♡ Too Sensitive - Part Two ♡

Telling the JJK men you get too sensitive right before you cum and always have to stop, effectively ruining your orgasms.

A/N: basically Choso is sweet—the other two are not lol

Includes: Choso, Kenjaku, and Sukuna Part One sorry for lumping you in with the baddies, Choso

Content: masturbation, fingering, cunnilingus, p-in-v, bondage, monsterfucking, dacryphilia, degradation, praise

Petnames: whore, my lord

TW: dubcon, sadism

18+ Content below, mdni, implied chubby f!reader - enjoy!

Choso is earnest & helps you through it. He wants you to cum, it’s one of the best parts of sex. Denying yourself every time, even if it isn’t intentional, has to be frustrating. He'll do whatever you need to get there.

♡ ♡ ♡

With how new relationships are for Choso, you haven’t added sex to the equation yet. Everything about intimacy is a learning curve, and even though the two of you agreed to take things slow, Choso has shown a clear yearning and interest in sex. So when he walks in on a failed masturbation attempt, all thoughts of easing into sex flew out the window. How was he supposed to forget the sight of your legs spread, head thrown back, and fingers working to make yourself come?

He crawled up the bed, and with pleading eyes, asked what was wrong. You insisted everything was fine, but Choso isn’t stupid: he knew you were masturbating, and it didn’t go how it was supposed to for whatever reason. Eagerness alone isn’t enough to make up for a lack of knowledge, however, and Choso feels almost as frustrated as you when he accepts he doesn’t know how to help.

It’s then you learn of Choso’s persuasion skills, because you now rub your clit for your boyfriend to watch. His gaze is heavy and irreverent—transfixed by your wet pussy.

“It’s so pretty,” he says when your hole twitches, and the compliment makes warmth flood through you. “Can I touch you?”

“A-ah, yeah, go ahead.” The scenario wounds your pride: you don’t want to struggle in front of Choso. How is he supposed to trust you as a guide when you can’t even give yourself a basic orgasm? A tentative touch to your labia interrupts these thoughts, appreciating its shapes and feeling your wetness.

You whimper when his curiosity leads him to tracing your hole—not penetrating, only running the tip of his finger through the rim. He looks at you in question before he slowly breeches you, amazed by the sight and sensation of you parting for him.

It isn’t until you shift your hips that he grazes your g-spot, and your pussy squeezes his fingers so hard he briefly wonders if he hurt you. Uncertainty fades away as he caresses the rough area, his excitement growing as you move against his hand with a moan. It’s wet and warm, and the thought of it surrounding his cock makes him bite back a sound.

“Choso, you’re doing so good,” you pant, your voice tight with effort. “You can put another in.”

He does as told, mouth hanging when he sees your pussy stretch to accommodate his fingers. Over-eager, he relentlessly strokes your g-spot, his hips grinding against the bed. You cry out and match his intensity by circling your clit quickly. It doesn’t take long for your legs to tremble, and your body to stiffen. Whether by accident or knowing more than you thought he would, his fingers scissor, and you’re brought to the door of stinging pleasure.

“I can’t—I’m sorry,” your hand flies off instinctively, but he catches your wrist.

“Keep going,” he says lowly, and covers your fingers, moving them to glide over your clit beneath his own. “Let me help you.”

It’s an odd sensation: your familiar fingers moving in unfamiliar ways. He intensifies your touch, and resumes stroking your g-spot, shooting red-hot nerves through your body.

“Oh, my god, Choso! That’s too fucking—” you wail when you come, muscles cramping from the tension. Choso’s touches never falter as he leans over to connect your lips. It’s a sloppy, noisy kiss, and he moans almost as much as you. When you thrash to get away from him and tears well in your eyes, he removes his fingers and pulls you close. You pant in unison, and when you glance down, you see Choso had come in his pants. Only minutes pass before you feel his erection poking your ass.

“Can I do it again?”

Kenjaku is curious & tests you through it: what makes you so sensitive? Is it a certain technique? Would different stimuli make it more or less intense? He wants to explore until he knows the ins and outs of the issue to sate his curiosity.

♡ ♡ ♡

If you were told that you would spend your Saturday evening tied down with your leader’s head between your legs, you would assume they mistook you for someone with a much more colorful sex life. In hindsight, it shouldn’t have come as a shock with his unpredictable nature, but you assumed he had no interest in sex–or anything that isn’t about cursed energy, really.

Your legs strain against the straps as you come with a voiceless scream, mouth hanging open. Kenjaku only licks at your cunt twice more before removing himself, his face expressionless as he watches you twitch and convulse. With his thumb he absentmindedly wipes residue from his jaw, only to lick it from his finger and lips–the display makes your cheeks heat, even though he just ate your pussy. When he remains silent, you know he’s mulling over something, and prepare yourself for the incoming rant as your high dissipates. Instead, he slides two fingers into you. He wastes no time locating your soft spot, caressing the area with deliberate strokes. His cool demeanor makes you feel foolish for making any noise, whether they come from your mouth or your pussy.

When he ate you out, he focused on your clit, his tongue flitting over your opening once or twice, but never penetrating. Now, it seems, he’s doing the exact opposite. Thick fingers part so widely it almost hurts, but so turned on it only makes you mewl, and raise your hips for more. This seems to herald your end, as he sets a rhythmic pace, pushing you further and further along. Like before, the pleasure skyrockets to a harsh burn, and you squirm in your restraints.

“Where does it hurt?” You stare at him stupidly, unsure what he said. It’s the first he’s spoken since strapping you down. “You said it gets over-sensitive before an orgasm. Where is that happening now?”

“My clit,” you manage. His fingering doesn’t slow even as you’re trying to speak.

“Is it internal or external?” A choke interrupts you before you can ask him to clarify, as another orgasm knocks the wind out of you. His fingers are still, but continue to pulse against your g-spot as your pussy clenches. Sensing your confusion, he continues.

“Does it happen in the head of your clitorus,” his thumb swipes over it cheekily, making you yelp. “Or is it internal?” He presses against your g-spot with an exaggerated force. Kenjaku’s voice is slow and condescending as he explains, as if you’re a child. You’re still trembling through your orgasm, too overwhelmed to think, let alone answer. Miffed by your silence, he pulls your nipple with his free hand.

“External! Fuck!”

“Interesting,” he says to himself, and continues to toy with your nipple until your eyes water. Two fingers straddle your clit, not touching, and rub the entire area in slow circles. A loud gasp tears from deep in your lungs, your body unsure what to do with this development.

“No, you can’t be serious,” your voice warbles when a pinch to your clit chastises you. “Fuck, fuck–no!” You jerk against the restraints, and your hips try to run away from his touch. “Stop!”

“Tell me, was it worse the second time, or the same?” A muted whimper is your only reply. “Oh, don’t be like that. You’re fine. I have more methods to try, after all.”

Sukuna is sadistic & forces you through it: normally he doesn’t care if you cum, but the thought that it’s too much and overwhelms you very much appeals to him.

♡ ♡ ♡

How your Lord became privy to such information you’ll never know for certain, but you have an inkling of how it happened. You were a simple servant, tasked with trivial duties like laundry and sweeping in the courtesan’s quarters. You had sequestered a bottle of liquor to be shared with those you consider friends, and the four of you drunkenly giggled as you shared your racy experiences.

Apparently, one of your ‘friends’ is a fucking narc, or just an idiot with loose lips and no sense. Because a handful of days later, you’re being summoned by Sukuna himself, and find yourself propped on his lap.

The tongue is waterlike, curling and rolling between your thighs, leaving thick saliva in its wake. It doesn’t take long for your pussy to leak and for pathetic sounds to spill. Does he prefer silence? You fist your robes, unsure if you’re allowed to even touch Sukuna; you have no clue how you’re supposed to behave.

“I’m going to kill the fool that sent you to the servant’s quarters,” he says. One of your breasts stills from your robe, and he is quick to palm it with his massive hand, and more terrifyingly, pull your nipple. His other hand squeezes your pliant thigh, and another molds against your hip, thumb digging into your lower belly–clearly appreciating how soft you are.

Barely, you resist rolling your hips in tandem with his licking. Despite it all, the large slippery tongue feels unlike anything you’ve felt before. The roll of his tongue is passionate enough that it swipes at your ass as well, making you gasp and clench every time. The pleasant sensations bleed into discomfort as you get close–what you’ve feared ever since you came into his throne room–and you stiffen as you try to bear through it.

His tongue never stops its languid stroking, and despite your best effort, you thrash and twist in his hold, trying to escape the burn. A plea for him to stop bubbles at your lips. You have no choice but to take it, and after a few moments of unbearable rubbing on your clit, you sob as an orgasm is ripped from you. The tongue never stops. It laps wildly, trying to drink everything your body offers. Tears spill from your eyes, as the prickling in your clit spreads.

“That was fast,” he muses, lazily eyeing your quivering body. “I’ve never seen a whore cry because she got her cunt licked.” His tongue flicks your clit sharply, and he chuckles when you nearly topple over. “Sensitive?”

“Yes, my lord.” You tremble all over; the weight of his attention is enough to terrify.

“Good.” Suddenly, he lifts and positions you over his cock—the one furthest from his pelvis. Your heart drops to your ass. It’s humongous, surely, it will kill you! You don’t have time to fear, because he presses you down immediately. It pushes against your entrance for several moments, unable to slide in despite how lubricated you are with his saliva and your juices, but eventually, your hole succumbs to the pressure from Sukuna’s hold and it breeches you violently. The size of his cock knocks the wind out of you, and its twin grazes the your pussy. Your clit feels like it’s on fire.

“Cry for me, whore,” he lifts you up and drops you back down, the slap and your yelp echo through the throne room. “It’s all you’re good for.”

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dandelions-143 · 30 days ago

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Somnophelia - Changbin

Kinktober Masterlist

Word Count: 3050

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Somnophilia, Detailed descriptions of sexual acts, Mature language

No summary just smut under the cut

Changbin exhaled deeply as he quietly entered his apartment, the tension from his long day slowly melting away. The space was enveloped in darkness, save for the soft, welcoming glow of the kitchen light you had thoughtfully left on. It was a small gesture, but one that never failed to warm his heart, knowing you cared enough to ensure he didn't come home to complete darkness.

Despite having your own place, you had made it a habit to visit on his busiest days, filling his home with warmth and care. The enticing aroma of a home-cooked meal lingered in the air, a testament to your presence. Changbin's lips curved into a tender smile, his chest swelling with affection at the thought of you. After two grueling days of intense rehearsals, his body ached for rest, but his heart yearned for your embrace even more.

Navigating through the familiar space, Changbin resisted the urge to flood the apartment with light, preserving the tranquil atmosphere. He made his way to the bathroom, leaving a trail of his belongings in the hallway. As the hot water cascaded over his tired muscles, he felt the day's stress begin to dissipate. Emerging from the steam-filled room, he didn't bother with clothes, his skin still warm and damp from the shower.

As he entered his bedroom, Changbin's breath caught in his throat. There you were, a vision of serenity, peacefully asleep in the center of his bed. The soft moonlight filtering through the curtains cast a ethereal glow on your features, making his heart flutter. A wave of tenderness washed over him, mingling with a deep sense of contentment.

With the utmost care, Changbin gently lifted the covers and slipped into bed beside you. He moved with deliberate slowness, not wanting to disturb your peaceful slumber. As he settled in, he couldn't resist the urge to be close to you. With feather-light touches, he draped his arm over your waist, relishing the warmth of your body against his. The familiar scent of your hair filled his senses, and he found himself relaxing completely for the first time in days. In that moment, with you in his arms, Changbin felt truly at home.

He pressed his body flush against yours, feeling the silky fabric of your nightie caress his skin. The softness of the material against his chest and the warmth radiating from your body sent a shiver of pleasure straight to his cock. As he watched your chest rise and fall in peaceful slumber, he felt his arousal slowly begin to build, a delicious tension coiling low in his abdomen.

Changbin's breath caught in his throat as he admired your sleeping form, drinking in every detail. The gentle curve of your neck, the soft pout of your lips, the way your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks - each feature only intensified his growing desire. The thought of you waking up to the feel of him buried deep inside you made his heart pound in his chest and his cock twitch with need. Unable to resist, he trailed his fingers lightly along your arm, marveling at the silky smoothness of your skin. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch, and he had to bite back a groan of appreciation.

The temptation to wake you with gentle kisses was overwhelming. He imagined trailing his lips along the column of your throat, across your collarbone, down to the swell of your pretty breasts. But he held back, content for now to simply bask in your presence and the intimacy of the moment. His eyes traced the outline of your body beneath the thin fabric of your nightie, his imagination running wild with thoughts of what lay beneath.

"So soft and beautiful," he whispered, his voice barely audible even in the quiet of the room. Unable to resist any longer, his lips found the curve of your neck, pressing a kiss there as tenderly as he could. The taste of your skin on his lips sent a jolt of electricity through his body, his arousal intensifying tenfold. Thoughts of waking you with his body pressed against yours flooded his mind even more. Him driving into you slowly while his lips were wrapped around one of your pert little nipples, each scenario more enticing than the last.

Changbin's self-control was rapidly waning, his desire for you growing stronger with each passing second. The gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft warmth of your breath, the intoxicating scent of your skin - it was all becoming too much to bear. He knew he should let you sleep, but the temptation to wake you, to feel your body respond to his touch, was becoming unbearable. With a shaky breath, he nuzzled closer, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he debated his next move.

His hand, seemingly with a mind of its own, slid down your side. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, feeling the dip of your waist and the swell of your thigh through the thin fabric. He pressed his lips to your shoulder, letting them linger there as he breathed in your scent. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a visible shiver through your body, causing you to stir slightly in your sleep. Changbin froze, his heart racing in his chest. He was torn between his burning desire and the fear of waking you, every muscle in his body tense as he waited with bated breath to see if your eyes would flutter open.

Your eyes remained closed, your breathing steady. Changbin felt a mix of relief and disappointment wash over him. He gently tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer as he tried to calm his racing heart and the desire coursing through his veins. The warmth of your body only making his cock grow painfully harder.

He couldn't help but marvel at how perfectly you fit in his arms, how right it felt to have you here in his bed. Despite his exhaustion from the long days of rehearsals, Changbin found himself wide awake, drinking in every detail of this moment. Your soft breathing, the subtle scent of your lavender shampoo, the silky smoothness of your skin – it all combined to create a sense of peace and arousal that only you could evoke in him. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply, letting your scent intoxicate him further.

Changbin's fingers twitched with the urge to explore further. Unable to stop himself, he allowed his fingertips to lightly travel over the swell of your soft breast. He could see and feel your nipples harden beneath the thin fabric that covered them, the sight making his mouth water. He licked his lips, his breathing becoming slightly labored as he kept moving his fingers down over the gentle curve of your stomach. His hand slipped beneath the sheets, seeking out the warmth between your thighs. The silky fabric of your nightgown bunched up as his hand moved lower, revealing more of your smooth skin to his hungry gaze.

His fingers gently brushed against your most intimate area, the heat emanating from your core making him dizzy with want. A soft, breathy moan escaped your lips in your sleep, the sound sending a jolt of electricity straight to his groin. Changbin's breath hitched, his arousal intensifying to an almost painful degree. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes filled with a potent mixture of love and hunger as he watched your pretty face. You moved ever so slightly, turning your head a bit, your lips parting slightly, but remained completely asleep. As his eyes lingered on your lips he imagined what you would think if you woke to his cock sliding in and out of those pretty soft lips of yours. The sight of you, so vulnerable and trusting in your slumber, made his heart swell with affection even as desire burned through his veins.

Changbin's resolve crumbled the moment he felt your warmth and wetness against his fingertips. "Jesus," he whispered, his voice hoarse with need. He brought his wet fingers to his lips and sucked off your lingering juices. Changbin held back a guttural moan at the sweet taste of you. Slowly, carefully, he moved over you to settle between your thighs, his movements deliberate to avoid waking you. His hands, slightly trembling with anticipation, pushed the fabric of your silk nightgown up and over your breasts, exposing your body inch by tantalizing inch. The moonlight streaming through the window bathed your skin in a pale glow, making you look like a dream come to life. Changbin leaned down, his lips hovering just above your skin as he kissed up the valley between your breasts. He could feel the rapid beating of your heart beneath his lips, matching the frantic rhythm of his own.

Unable to resist any longer, he moved his mouth over to one breast, taking your hardened nipple between his lips. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, teasing and tasting, eliciting another soft moan from your sleeping form. The sound sent a shudder of pleasure through him, his own arousal pressing insistently against your thigh. Changbin's heart raced as he felt your body responding to his touch, even in your unconscious state. It was intoxicating, addictive, and he couldn't get enough. He trailed his kisses lower, his lips leaving a burning path down your stomach. His tongue dipped into your navel, tasting the salt on your skin, before he inched closer to your center, drawn by an irresistible pull.

Changbin's tongue darted out, tasting you as he placed a gentle kiss on your inner thigh. Your scent filled his senses, driving him wild with need. He couldn't resist any longer, his mouth descending upon your core as he began to worship you with his lips and tongue. The warmth of his breath against your sensitive skin sent shivers through your body, even in your peaceful slumber.

His tongue delved deeper, exploring every fold with passionate fervor. He traced slow, deliberate circles around your most anwollen clit, alternating between gentle flicks and long, languid strokes. Your body responded instinctively, your hips arching slightly to meet his eager mouth. Changbin's strong hands gripped your thighs, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he held you steady. He continued his sensual assault, determined to bring you pleasure.

As your consciousness slowly returned, a mix of confusion and pleasure washed over you. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim light of the bedroom. You found Changbin between your thighs, his dark eyes meeting yours with a mix of desire and adoration. His hair was tousled, lips glistening in the moonlight. A soft gasp escaped your lips as the realization of what was happening fully hit you, your body already responding to his expert touch. “Changbin..” you began but you were cut off by his lips sucking gently on you throbbing clit.

Your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with Changbin, his gaze intense and filled with unbridled desire. The initial shock quickly gave way to a flood of arousal, your body responding eagerly to his touch. Without breaking eye contact, Changbin's tongue flicked against your sensitive bud, drawing a soft moan from your lips as pleasure coursed through your veins. The sight of him between your legs, combined with the sensation of his skilled mouth, sent waves of heat through your body. “Changbin..” his name on your lips nearly made him melt right there between your spread thighs.

You instantly reached for him, wanting to touch the man you loved. Your fingers grazed over his face, feeling the slight stubble on his cheeks before moving to his dark, curly hair, tangling in the soft strands. The texture of his hair against your fingertips grounded you in the moment. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to his eager mouth, a breathy moan escaping your lips. "Changbin," you whispered again, your voice thick with desire, "You feel so good." His response was a low, appreciative groan that sent vibrations through your core, intensifying the pleasure building within you.

Changbin's hands slid up your body, caressing every curve as he moved to hover over you. His skin was warm against yours, his muscular frame pressing you gently into the mattress. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips, pouring all his longing and desire into it. The kiss was deep and sensual, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same fervor he had shown lower. As he pulled away, he gazed into your eyes, his voice husky with need as he whispered, "You taste so fucking good, y/n.”

Changbin pushed his hips forward, rubbing his throbbing length against your slick entrance. The feeling of his hardness against you made you gasp, your body aching for more contact. His eyes locked with yours, silently seeking permission as he positioned himself. You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation, and with a slow, deliberate thrust, Changbin buried himself inside you. The stretch and fullness as he entered you drew a long, low moan from both of you.

He stilled for a moment, savoring the feeling of being completely connected with you. "You feel so perfect," he breathed against your neck, his hips beginning to move in a gentle rhythm that quickly ignited the passion between you both. The drag of him inside you sent sparks of pleasure through your body with each movement.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, urging him deeper as the pleasure intensified. You could feel the flex of his muscles beneath your hands with each thrust. Changbin's movements became more forceful, his breathing ragged against your skin. The room filled with the sounds of your shared passion, soft moans and whispered endearments mingling in the air. The headboard began to tap lightly against the wall as he fucked you.

Changbin decided to change the position, wanting to explore new angles of pleasure. He moved to sit up on his knees, still inside you as he pulled your leg up to drape over one of his shoulders. The new position allowed him to penetrate even deeper, hitting spots that made you see stars. “Thats it baby, take me deeper.” Changbins voice was darkened with desire. His eyes watched intently as he moved in and out of you, mesmerized by the sight of your pink pussy taking his now glistening cock so easily. His hands gripped your thigh tightly, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he increased his pace. The new angle allowed him to hit deeper, eliciting a series of breathless moans from your lips. “You’re doing so well, baby.” His eyes met yours as he talked you through it. His gentle words mixed with his hard thrusts only making you want him more.

He peppered kisses and soft bites over the sensitive skin of your leg, adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming pleasure. His teeth grazed against your calf, sending shivers down your spine as he continued his relentless pace. The combination of his deep thrusts and the gentle nips on your skin pushed you closer to the edge, your body trembling with each wave of pleasure. You could feel the tension building, coiling tighter with each passing moment, as Changbin's movements became more urgent and passionate.

He looked incredibly sexy with his large muscles shining slightly with the thin layer of sweat he had worked up. The moonlight accentuated the definition of his large chest as he moved above you. His eyes moved from where you were joined to meet your gaze, dark with desire and emotion. "I'm so close, y/n," he panted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. His words sent a shiver of anticipation through you, your body tightening around him in response. "Me too, baby," you breathed, your hands reaching up to caress his face, tracing his strong jawline. "Let go for me." Your encouragement was all Changbin needed, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his release.

With a final, powerful thrust, Changbin pulled out, his hand moving rapidly as he pumped himself. His other hand slid thick fingers inside you, curling to hit your most sensitive spot as he worked you both towards climax. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, pushing you over the edge. You came in unison, his body shuddering as he reached his peak. Hot streams spilled over your lower stomach, the warmth a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. The intensity of his release triggered your own, waves of pleasure washing over you as you clung to him, your bodies trembling together. Your vision blurred at the edges, overcome by the intensity of your orgasm.

As the aftershocks subsided, Changbin gently lowered your leg and collapsed beside you, pulling you close to his chest. You could feel his heart racing, matching the rapid beat of your own. He pressed tender kisses to your forehead, his lips lingering as he caught his breath. The room was quiet now, filled only with the sound of your synchronized breathing as you basked in the afterglow of your passionate reunion.

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