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1800titz · 9 months ago

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HI. HELLO. Here is my Valentine’s Day contribution. POTTERYINSTRUCTOR!HARRY!! POTTERY MAN! WOOO. Basically almost 7K of clay sexualization and sexually charged fluff (ish). Enjoy! :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: ridiculous sexualization of clay (I think I’ve managed to fetishize clay in this one??? OOPS), overly suggestive usage of pottery terms, a red-hot, hands-on tutorial for wheel throwing, and embarassingly long descriptions of Harry’s fingers coated in wet clay.

WC: 6.6K

slip: small bits of dry clay mixed with water to create a thick, creamy consistency

Clay is innately erotic.

Wheel throwing is, arguably, the most pornographic art form, its only competing opponent being, maybe, literal body-painting. And that latter one still falls as a close second. Close, but second.

Y/N decides that when she wanders into a little ceramics shop tucked away in a busy plaza downtown. There’s no method to her exploration, but the broad glass windows are adorned with dripping, colorful graffiti and its innards call to her. GLAZED, reads the large sign over the awning in blocky, white lettering, stippled with un-glowing light bulbs that she’s sure light alive in the night.

It’s a cute shop.

Upon entrance, the young woman discovers tables, as if set up for arts and crafts, crackling, clay covered wheels with shorter stools, and long, tall rows of shelving brimmed with colorless sculptures lining the walls. Despite its packed interior, the studio seems empty of people and quiet besides the soft notes of RÜFÜS DU SOL leaking from the overhead speakers. She roams beside the line of wheels over to a shelf by the door, admiring the myriad of statues there, some obviously crafted with expertise and elegant artistry, and others lopsided efforts that probably deserve a pitied gold star for effort.

Her eyes are caught on an unpainted little ashtray that’s got a crooked sort of bee in the center when her gaze breaks away to the sound of footsteps. Maybe the shop isn’t as abandoned as she’d previously believed — a man appears from behind a row of white shelving stacked with more unfinished pottery.

He’s a pretty man, that much she can decide from the downturned slope of his nose and his distracted lash line, focused on twisting the navy rag in his left hand over the tip of his right index finger. A dark baseball cap shrouds his hair, but little brunette tufts sneak out in curled bunches around his ears. That’s where Y/N finds a fun, little red-tinted pearl dangling from one lobe. He’s tatted in patchwork art — a mermaid with its tits out peeks at her from his forearm, soaked over and shining. She assumes he must have just been rinsing clay from that forearm, from his hands, no longer visible over his skin. However, streaks of dried gray stain over his white tee in crackling lines, like an old lamination on a well-loved t-shirt that’s been cycled through the washer one too many times. When he pulls the rag away, she discovers a shade of bright red that’s been painted over his nails.

Almost as if he can sense her presence without looking, his sneakers pause on the tile and he steals a peer up. Yes, he’s quite a pretty man, even when his features shape something caught off guard.

“Hello.”

His voice is rich — this smooth, bass-deep sort of sound driving a foreign lilt, and Y/N thinks that if it weren’t for his lengthy fingers and his cherry polished nails, if it weren’t for his handsomely sculpted face, if it weren’t for his seemingly innate effortless demeanor and style, that voice alone could make her fold.

“Hello,” she returns, aware that a nervous note plucks at her cadence, unlike his own casual greeting. I promise I’m not shoplifting clay pots in silence, she nearly tells him.

Thank fuck for the ability to physically bite your tongue.

“What can I help you with?” the man asks, sauntering forward a bit. It’s probably sort of a polite manner to say what the fuck are you doing here, and the longer the young woman stands in the middle of the empty shop the more out of place she feels, almost like this a private, little haven and she shouldn’t be in here right now.

The song shifts into its choral bass drop of electric keys. That fills the void of the silence as she swallows and fixes a little smile onto her face, fingers tightening over the strap of her tote.

“Oh, I’m just looking.”

The man purses his mouth and walks over to the counter, where the register is littered with paperwork and an eclectic collection of faux plants. He sets the rag down beside a floppy one with its green tendrils dangling over the edge.

“See anything you like?” his hand pinches over his nose, like he’s scratching an itch, before he sniffs and pivots to apparently decrease their proximity, “We’ve got loads — you can make something yourself, or,” another step, and Y/N’s eye bounce from his shorts to his tattooed knees to the hems of his white socks. “…If you know sculpting isn’t your craft, we’ve got ready-to-paint-one's on that shelf there.”

Her gaze follows the direction of his finger, where pasty ceramic bunnies, and angels, and cars line the shelving in multiples.

“I think—“ the young woman’s tongue peeks out to swipe over her mouth, words growing drier the longer she captures his stare. She focuses back on a lopsided rendition of strawberry, its leaves cradling over as a disconnected lid and its stem a crooked handle. “I like these. They’ve got so much character.”

She blinks back over to him and watches a soft smile shape over the cushiony pink of his mouth.

It only takes a moment — one where her sight draws back to the strawberry jar for a smidge of a second, before he’s so close that she can smell his cologne, spiced and clean. She ogles his arm, his hand, the way he reaches out between them to cull the piece, mildly appalled by the way he palms the sculpture and dwarfs it in his easy grasp. It’s such a casual maneuver, made almost as if he’s not fondling over something it’d take anyone else two hands to hold. Y/N imagines the dimpled form of clay coated over to match the color of his nails.

“They do, don’t they? I like this one, too. S’a little …ugly, but, s’in, like, a…” the man’s features twist into something silly and pinched, and the young woman rolls her lips into her mouth to avoid exposing her amusement at the brutal candor. His words catch in his throat and bubble as a short laugh, “I dunno. It’s art.”

He sets it back onto the shelf with a light clink, and turns to face her, posturing against a post in the shelving where the tiers have a break. An exhale becomes paired with his nonchalant lean, arms crossing over his pecs, and Y/N tries intensely not to stare like a hawk at the muscle there.

“I’m afraid people are coming back for these, though. This row came out of the kiln…” forest green skids to the assortment and then bounds up to the ceiling like he’s in thought, before he casts his gaze back onto her, “…yesterday. And there’s a month-and-a-half window for someone to come back and glaze before we toss or sell them to be painted.”

He’s chewing gum. Y/N realizes it when she admires the soft stubble coating his jaw, his cheeks — that’s when she notices the work of his jawline over the minty piece. He tips his head. “Did you want to try sculpting something?”

The edges of her lips break bashfully. “I don’t know if I’d be any good at it.”

One corner of the man’s mouth curls up lopsidedly, and the beginnings of a dimple nudge into place. He blinks and chews a little slower, “Have you ever worked with clay before?”

Her delayed, little no is met with the lopsided beam growing even. He nudges with his chin, deliciously bulging arms still tucked over his chest, his playfully raised eyebrows like a wordless notion of have more faith in yourself, “Then you may just be the next Magdalene Odundo. We’ll make a pro sculptor out of you, yet.”

Magdalene Odundo. Somehow, the name isn’t familiar, but simultaneously, somehow, it feels like a compliment.

Y/N inhales as his digits shift over his tri’s. “Okay.”

“Okay,” plush pink shapes a handsome smile, bordering bright white teeth in straight lines. The man tips his head towards the curved berry vase, and then looks back at her, “Did you want to do something like this? All these over here were made on the wheel.”

Y/N muzzles telling him that she’s no inkling of an idea how someone can morph a lump of clay into a vase, nevermind on a big, spinning platform that moves faster than her eyes can keep up with. The man seems to pick up on the hesitation in her silence.

“S’easy, I promise. I’ll show you how to throw.”

Show her. Okay. At least she’s not going to head into vase-sculpting or wheel-throwing or …whatever he’d called it blindly, fumbling over a block of clay on a twirling tray like a slapstick skit personified. At least it means she’s going to stay in his presence. After a moment of thought, though, (and the way she notes that his eyes make unwavering, relaxed contact with her face the entirety of the silent pause), Y/N decides she’s not sure whether that last bit is actually a good thing, considering she’s probably milliseconds away from, like, bracing a hand onto a the shelf to match his level of coolness, or something. And then subsequently sending ceramic pots spilling and shattering over the tile.

She blinks. Her shoulders rise on her nervous inhale, and he makes one of those playful faces, like he’s waiting for her to agree. The young woman’s eyes wander to the line of chairs pressed to its counterparts of wheels.

“I don’t wanna, like, trouble you—“

“You’re not. S’my job,” he tells her, crimson fingertips drumming. She catches sight of his fabric-clad pectorals flexing when he leans forward a little to tack on, “…And to be honest, it’d give me something to do besides fucking around with clay, which is what I’ve been doing for the last hour.”

Her mouth purses and then settles. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again, and then winds around through a row of little tables that resemble the set up of an art classroom, like the kind she’d have in school. She’s ashamed that her gaze wanders down the back of his arm to ogle the rest of his ink.

“You can have a seat at one of those wheels,” he tosses over his shoulder as he heads, she assumes, to wind back around the same shelf he’d surfaced from behind, “Just give me a mo’, and I’ll be right back with some clay.”

It takes Y/N a moment — mostly because she admires the view of his stature from behind as he migrates to a back hallway, irises roaming down the projection of muscles in his back showcased through his tee. They skim down his legs, down the backs of his knees, rest on toned calves. He’s gone far too quickly for her viewing pleasure. The young woman takes another glance at the uneven strawberry-esque vase, and then she pivots to step around the crowded assortment of wheels to crouch into one of those little roll-y stools, feet crossing and uncrossing in the cramped space.

He’s a sexy man, Y/N decides. That’s the word she’d been looking for all along, although pretty would match the descriptors of his long lashes and his pouty pink mouth. He’s sexy, though, in his baseball cap and his little six-inch-inseam shorts (which show off the sculpt of his tanned thighs and the ink over his kneecaps). He’s sexy when he comes out from the back over to her wheel, a gunmetal gray ball of clay cradled in his palm like it’s not the size of two of her own. He’s sexy in the green eye contact he makes when he settles into a stool similar to her own, right across, when his thighs splay because he doesn’t have enough room to sit otherwise, when he rests his elbows over his knees and stretches one arm out to pass off the clay. That’s when their digits brush, because it’s sort of unavoidable. He manages to make eye contact through that, too. Sexy.

“Okay. Clay,” the chilled ball the man hands off weighs her hand down, and Y/N’s gaze flickers up to meet his own when he instructs, “Toss it onto the wheel. Aim for the center.”

The young woman pauses like she’s calculating her aim, gearing up without visibly gearing up, and a little smile tugs at the instructor’s mouth as he waits. The clay lands with a thud onto the plate.

“Great,” he tells her, monitoring the centering, and then jade bounces back up to her face as he coaxes, “Smack for good luck.”

Y/N curbs the corners of her mouth out of mirth, hesitating for a moment before her palm lands over the smooth, gray lump in a halfhearted pat. She blinks up, hoping for assurance. The handsome man’s mouth purses like he’s restraining a grin.

“Harder,” he encourages after a second, the corners of his muted raspberry mouth seeping up a smidge, more openly, “S’not gonna cry. You can go a little harder than that.”

The young woman rolls her lips into her mouth, raises her hand, and follows his request, molding it flatter under the solid thud of her palm. Evidently, it’s a better attempt, because she earns a, “Very good,” in response from him.

She casts her gaze up to find him dipping his hands into the pot of murky water beside the wheel before a fist knocks lightly at the pedal-resembling lever on the opposite side, sending the wheel into a speeding twirl. And to add to her list of shame, the liquid that coats his fingers — that’s.

Yeah.

Y/N swallows and watches those wet hands cup over the clay, partly mesmerized by the way he coaxes the priorly deformed lump into a symmetrical cylinder, stroking up from the base up and back down, and partly mesmerized by the way the cherry polish becomes daubed with slicked clay.

“I’m just gonna get it nice and easy for you, and then you can get to the fun bits,” the man tells her as if he isn’t currently awakening some deep, deviously sexual desires in her by fondling clay. Jade flickers up. “M’Harry, by the way.”

“Y/N,” the young woman tells him in response, unsure whether to focus on his searing eye contact or the gentle press of his hands over … oddly erotic artistry in motion.

Harry unwittingly makes the decision for her by breaking the eye contact and glancing down at his work.

“Y/N,” he says, as if testing the taste of her name on his tongue.

Y/N takes a breath, smoothing her hands down her thighs.

“Y/N,” his strawberry mouth parts a tad for a soft breath in, honey smooth cadence glazed in concentration as he presses a flat palm over the top of the clay, keeping his other hand cupped over the length.

She watches the cylinder mold under his grip into something shorter, and then back up. She watches the way his arms flex, anchored to his body as he presses with the heels of his palms to sculpt.

“This is called coning. Makes the clay centered so your grip stays nice and even when it spins. Otherwise, s’gonna wobble, and you’ll feel it when you’re trying to work with it.”

Sure enough, after a few moments, when the man takes his clay-sullied palms away, what’d priorly been a lopsided hunk twirling over the platform stands symmetrically, shining post his wet grip. When he balls his hand into a fist and punches over the lever a handful of times, the plate slows to a stop. He blows out a breath and the music shifts to the next track in the background.

“Take your bracelet off for me.”

The comment is made totally innocuously. Its purpose is solely to preserve the condition of her jewelry — she knows that when his eyes go to meet hers again and he mentions, “Otherwise, it could get covered with clay, or break. Wouldn’t wanna ruin such a pretty piece.”

But it’s the way he says it, right? Two little words, so easy off his tongue. So nonchalant, so purely intended with no ulterior motive. For me. For me, for me, for me.

It’s shameful — she’s ashamed. She’s no better than a man, Y/N decides, as she peers to the silver bangle with the sliver of warmth slithering through her chest and snaking to her tummy. She’s no better than a man, objectifying this poor, effortlessly sexy ceramics instructor and his casual commentary on a Wednesday. She swallows.

“Right. Thanks— thank you,” the young woman tells him, her tone garbled with nervous enthusiasm as the fingers of her opposite hand wriggle under the clasp to pop the piece off.

She’s still feeling dubious about the morality of her thoughts once she’s slipped the bracelet into her tote by her feet and sat back up.

“Alright,” Harry starts again, elbows braced to his sturdy thighs, “We’re gonna go over what this little thing over here does, because it’s good to know. It sets your speed. We’ve got options—“

Y/N watches the way his arm stretches, she eyes the tail of the mermaid, the lines of scales etched into his skin. His eyes meet her own again.

“…Fast,” Harry knocks over the lever again with the butt of a vertical fist, a couple more nudges rocketing the wheel into a motion that dissolves priorly visible remnants of clay rings into fast-moving swirls with no decipherable borders.

Another few nudges has the wheel skidding to a full-stop, and then stuttering back up into a spin when he taps over the pad once more.

“…Slow,” Harry fixes his gaze back onto her face and watches the curious concentration there. The man sits back up a tad, elbows bracing over his splayed thighs and fingers crooked and lax, coated with slippery wetness and clay. “Find what feels good for you. S’different for everyone.”

Despite the way the directions are made so innocently, so obviously stated as a tutorial that’s not intended to be taken as something suggestive, Y/N finds a heat teeming over her cheekbones.

“But, I recommend—“ her teeth lodge into the inside of her cheek with subtlety as the instructor hunches a little again, just a tad, to rap over the lever in a pair. The wheel speeds. “—Sticking to something around this.”

The pace of the wheel settles into an easy spin — something that’s still too quick for her eyes to keep up with, but apparently not the fastest setting, judging by the higher speeds he’d displayed moments prior.

“Alright. Here’s where you come in with your undiscovered ceramic talents,” the instructor tells her, the edges of his mouth so obviously restrained, like he’s amused with his own playful banter. His eyes glinting softly under the buttery light cast by the overhanging lanterns,”M’gonna show you how to drill, but you’ll need to get your hands wet first.”

Harry sits back, elbows still braced to his thighs, hands now coated with slippery clay as he waits for the young woman to douse her own into the bucket. The liquid greets her palms with a welcome chill, and when she lightly cups over the cylinder, it slips under her hands with ease. The man clears his throat, and their digits graze again when he touches over her fingers to guide her grasp. Y/N tries not to focus on the way his hands make her own look as if they belong to a child.

“You’re gonna take your thumbs—” Harry coaxes, all concentrated seriousness now, and the pad of his own brushes against the knuckle of her left, “—and press over the top, here. Right in the middle, just like that.”

He takes his hands away and the clay rolls under her fingertips, a divot forming from the pressure of her thumbs.

“Good. Now what you’ve done is you’ve indicated where you’re going to make the opening. And to do that—“ his hands return, unintentionally persuading her own to fall away and sort of hover stagnantly mid-air, in sullied awe, as he dips the tip of his index into the cleft they’d created together.

As if hungry for the finger, the clay parts to swallow the pad of the digit. It broadens its starving mouth, and Harry steadies the spread with his thumb, his pointer delving against the inside of the deepening wall. His opposite hand cups over the body as he molds the opening wider.

Anyways, what Y/N manages to learn from the impressive showcase, before Harry steals a glance to make sure she’s been observing (which she has, very focused, actually), is that clay-working is a dirty, dirty, lustrous art form. Especially under his fingertips. This is all very educational stuff. Perhaps the most impressive step of his tutorial, thus far, is the way that, in mere moments, he cups and strokes and caresses over the clay, drawing the opening tighter. It shrinks until it disappears, and when he smooths his hands over the rounded edges a few more times, the vessel that’s left is an entirely clean slate. Almost as if she hadn’t just spent the last few seconds ogling a weirdly pornographic display of a clay cavern opening in response to the touch of his long finger. This was a horrible mistake, Y/N thinks pitifully — she’s getting aroused by clay working. If there was ever a blaring red indicator that she needed to get laid, this is it.

“I want you to try now,” Harry directs, totally nonchalant. This is just a casual Wednesday for him, Y/N realizes. He casually fingers clay with his sexy, long fingers, and thinks nothing of it. Maybe she’s just a horribly wound-up pervert.

Still sort of stunned, she reaches out and cups over the cylinder, clumsily positioning her thumbs in a replication of the manner he’d shown her, aiming for the center and driving a divot into the top.

“Mm. That’s good. Keep your elbows closer to your body,” he prompts, eyes flickering from her posture to her hands. “Like this.”

Following his body language, Y/N mimics, ducking a tad and tucking her arms to her torso. After a few moments, she lifts her thumbs to find a centered indent, one that’s similar to the one they’d created together.

“Lovely. Now,” the chair makes a little rolling sound over the tile as Harry shifts forward, clay-slicked hands (warm, despite their cool coating) cradling over her own to position, “You’re gonna cup here, and then take this finger and push here. Yep. Jus’ like that.”

The instructor takes his grip away and encourages, “If you need more water, get your hands wet. You can tell you need it if there’s friction — you want it a little wet.”

She wants it a little wet. Y/N decides, as she dunks her hands into the bucket and returns to the clay, she in fact does not want anything wet right now. This is the last place she wants something wet. Her thoughts are disturbed by the way he grasps her at her hands again and repositions — twisted by the slippery feel of his own wet fingers. The clay over his palms has begun to dry now, morphing lighter and crackling, but the tips of his digits are still soaked and darker in shade. She’s awed when the cylinder gives under her touch, the same way it had for him to encompass her finger. It’s like magic, sort of. Very slippery, wet, weirdly erotically undertone-d magic.

“There you go,” Harry tells her, baritone soft, “You’re a pro.” Then, after a moment, “You can go a little harder. Don’t be shy. Open it up.”

She’s not blushing. She’s not blushing, because that would be silly. She presses harder, and the opening widens until it gapes.

“How long have you worked here?” the young woman asks, naturally trying to change the subject from wet and hard things. Hopefully in an organic enough manner that doesn’t imply how affected she is by said wet and hard things.

“I bought this place a few years ago,” Harry responds after a second, tone concentrating as he reaffixes the firmness of her grasp (she tries not to verbally apologize, glancing up), “…Both units. It was a smoke shop before, I think.”

“Oh!” her hands stutter again in surprise, “Are you the owner?”

He fixes them again, brows pinched, and when he glances up, his brow bone is smooth and there’s a soft smile playing over his mouth. “Indeed I am.”

“It’s …beautiful in here,” Y/N tells him, gaze walloping from shelf to shelf for a moment, lantern lined ceilings to vine-coated crown molding, trusting that his hands will keep her own grounded to the piece.

“Thanks. It’s a little crowded, but if you manage to get lost among the …phallic statues and the clay bongs,” he cocks his head, blatantly bridling a simper as he shrugs. At the response of her snort, jade flickers up and the plush of his mouth curls more obviously, “…You’ll find your way out of the maze soon enough.”

As the walls of the clay grow thinner, the instructor takes his grip away, swiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. “Alright. What are we going for here? A mug? A vase? A bong masquerading as a vase?”

Y/N takes the lack of his touch as an indication to lighten her own. She purses her lips thoughtfully. “A vase.”

“A vase,” the instructor parrots, voice low, and then he hunches back over and cups the clay. The young woman returns her hands to meet his own. “I can work with that. We’re gonna build it up. You’re gonna squeeze and lift. Right—“

If his fingers keep brushing hers for the duration of the next …half hour? Hour? (How long does throwing take?), Y/N decides she’ll simply combust. His hands cup lightly over her own, two digits pressed to hers, and hers pinned to the inner wall of the clay in sin.

“—Here. That’s it. You can be a little aggressive. We’ve gotta get it tall.”

Y/N swallows.

“You said you own both units?” she ponders aloud, “Is there …more?”

“My place,” Harry tells her nonchalantly, as if it’s the most casual, normal, every day thing to live over a ceramics studio, “S’just over on the next floor.”

“That’s—“ she realizes her grasp has lightened again, the integrity of the structure mostly only crawling up under the pressure of his own (steady, firm) grip over hers, “…so cool. To have, like, a whole studio right under you.”

“Mm. I think right now…” Harry cranes his neck to peer up at the ceiling, “We’re under my kitchen.”

A little breath of mirth tumbles from her when he grins and tacks on, “I think this is way cooler, though.”

This is The Turning Point.

And if it was a scene title in a play, Y/N thinks it would be capitalized to denote the importance. It’s important, because somewhere along the trail of her perversions, as Harry had guided her hands into the innards of the clay — fittingly describing it as the body — when he’d pressed his hands against her own to widen its base, when he’d shown her the sponge, things had clicked. It had clicked because she realized she wasn’t fucking crazy. Because Harry then said this thing — this one little thing that would have launched her into a frenzied, internal mess of dubious morality on the basis of her perversions—

But then it clicked.

“Careful with the amount of water you’re using now, yeah?” he’d told her, maneuvering her grip over the sponge as they’d smoothed over the lip together, “S’all about balance. …If you go too hard, you’ll make a wet mess.”

Y/N had glanced up. That’s when she’d noticed the way the instructor gnawed into his cheek, almost immediately, almost as if he was amused by some sort of devious inside joke. And then his blocky front teeth had dug lightly into the plush of his pink bottom lip. It was nearly unnoticeable — but she had noticed. Clay was innately erotic, and he was doing it on purpose. It was one, or the other, or both.

For a little while from there, they work in blatantly charged silence. It’s a very short while, all things considered, and she’s willing to clam up altogether and daydream about his digits for the duration of the lesson, but the tone of his next words nearly gives her whiplash.

“So what are you doing on this lovely Valentine’s day?” Harry breaks the silence, once again, his tone so even and nonchalant that Y/N can’t begin to fathom where his composure comes from.

The young woman clears her throat, “Oh. Y’know. Trying my hand at ceramics. The yuzh.”

Jade doesn’t immediately jolt up when he ponders aloud, “Dinner plans?”

“Not any on the calendar …that I’m aware of.”

His touch doesn’t lighten, but he does glance up, mouth all (apparently) disbelieving mirth, “You’re telling me you’re not being wined and dined tonight?”

Feigning offense, the young woman sets her mouth into a line and nudges with her chin in a nod, joking, “Thank you for the reminder.”

Harry laughs softly, one of those little breaths expelled through his nostrils, and he looks back down to the vase-in-progress, gentle grin undeniable. Y/N matches his amusement, faux indignation crackling.

“You’re too pretty not to have a Valentine,” the instructor tells her, then, decibel low, almost like it was meant to be under his breath but also entirely not, and all Y/N can do is sit there with instant heat seeping to her face. Because that’s flirting. That’s definitely flirting. Her sexy ceramics instructor is helping her craft a vase out of clay on a wheel with his sexy hands, and he’s openly flirting.

Y/N stuffs down how initially stunned she is to chew into her bottom lip and volley, “I bet you say that to every girl that comes in here.”

Harry shrugs. It’s still almost an enraging level of cucumber-cool and composed.

“Just the pretty ones.” He tacks on, after a moment, “And only on Valentine’s day. Don’t think that line would fit well on a random Wednesday.”

Y/N snorts. She’s still basking in the pleasant warmth of the flattery when the man peers up and tells her, “I do accept tips, by the way, so. Feel free to leave a tip for the friendly service.”

“I will—“ she snorts, restraining her open amusement at the way his brows crinkle in concentration as he helps her grip, “—definitely do that.”

“Sick,” his tongue peeks out to swipe over his lips, disappearing back into his mouth as quick as the pink had showcased. Jade flits up, the corners of his mouth curled up in a little pause of silence, almost he wants to make it crystal clear he does not actually want a tip for hitting on her.

Anyways, this is all a flustered mess. All of it. Y/N, the pot she’s sure will grow off-center and wobble under her shaky grip, all of it.

“What about you?” the young woman takes a deep breath, hoping some sort of breathing exercise will help slow the buzzy flutter of her heartbeat, “Any wining and dining? For Valentine’s day?”

“Not on the calendar,” Harry responds, sliding her own words back to her, his gaze still honed on the work ahead of them, now impressively morphed from a lumpy, shapeless ball into the beginnings of a vase, “As for how I’m spending my Valentine’s day, I did just show this one pretty girl how to shape and smooth. And now, …m’gonna show her how to shape some more.”

Y/N bats her lashes, and then she observes the work of his clay caked fingers, the way they curl and press over the vase in different points of the body, some motions widening the rim and some drawing it more narrow. He bids their tutorial a pause shortly after, explaining, “I’m gonna give you some creative freedom now. Figure out what shape you like.”

Despite the slight disappointment budding at the close of their conversation, for now, the daunting task of unsupervised throwing is what probably surfaces on her face, more. The instructor catches it when he rolls back in the stool and stands, ogling her for a moment, mirthy mouth caving up in a way that suggests she must look like a deer in headlights.

“It’s intimidating, but I believe in you. I’ll just be in the back for a sec, give me a shout if you need me.”

Y/N shifts her legs, pressing her thighs together when he adds, “Play around with it.”

All in all, they manage to end the wheel session with (Y/N thinks, impressively) only a couple of hiccups, both being opportunities presented with unsupervised sculpting. When she’d played around with it (his words) a little too much and had coaxed a priorly even shape into something lopsided and petrifying, it’d swung around on the wheel, each turn quickening its slow but sure collapse. She’d called out for the instructor with a frantic note to his name. Of course, both times, Harry had come out from the back and patiently squeezed over the clay, hands and forearms jolting and flexing deliciously as he’d encouraged it back into something centered (yet another opportunity to stare at slick clay glazing over his fingers all over again), reassuring her that it was normal to struggle, especially with her first time.

Y/N wonders if he’s constantly full of innuendos, or whether a ceramics studio is just innately an opportunity for double entendres.

She tries not to make it too obvious when she stands on wobbling legs, when she brushes past him and catches soft notes of his cologne, clean and musky. When he directs her to the bathroom where she rinses clay from her hands into one of those artsy, utility sinks. When she sits at one of the tables, waiting for him to bring the vase over to her, torched and ready for additions, when he gives her another colorless lump. She tries not to make it obvious when she ogles more of his arms, the peek of his nipples through the white, clay-stained fabric of his tee shamelessly. She fears it’s utterly obvious how affected he’s made her, though, when she blinks up at his face, when he shows her what the different little tools in the cup do for sculpting. Y/N doesn’t even look away from him at the introduction of the first tool. She thinks that’s the one that must cross-hatch, driving little lines into the clay.

“This is called slip,” Harry explains, dipping the tips of his index and middle fingers into the cup near the brushes with no hesitation. The consistency over his fingers, when he pulls them out, is like a wetter, creamier, sloppier variation of the same clay she’d worked with.

Christ.

“You put it over the lines you’ve carved to make more clay stick,” the instructor expands.

Y/N swallows when he smears the consistency coating his fingers onto the lines he’d drawn, his gaze bouncing from his touch to her face.

“Like, if you wanted to add a handle to a mug, you’d use this method. Or, alternatively,” the young woman focuses on the way the pads of the digits rub over the lines. They fade away. “It’s like an eraser. Careful with erasing, though. …Wet mess.”

The latter is tacked on as a reminder, and it wonderfully reminds her of the heat coiling in the pit of her tummy. Wonderfully. She swallows again.

“You can probably use that brush to apply the slip, though, if you don’t want to get your hands dirty again.”

Flowers. She sculpts flowers with a searing heat between her thighs, because his added little comment of, “I don’t mind,” as he glances to the slip still glazing his fingers, implying that he doesn’t mind to get his hands dirty, does that to her. Y/N sculpts flowers and they settle into a comfortable sort of silence. It’s one where the only sounds are the soft music playing over the speakers and the occasional noise of pages turning from behind the counter as he leans over it and works through some kind of paperwork. She draws lines into the vase, and brushes on the slip, and presses creased flowers to decorate the bulbous body, concentration etching her features.

She doesn’t notice when she goes over the hours of operation, and Harry doesn’t disturb her, doesn’t tell her that the shop’s been closed for nearly half an hour by the time she peers up and declares, “I’m done.”

“You’re done,” the man repeats and sets the paperwork down, making his way over to the table where she’d set up, “Let’s have a look.”

Y/N sits back admiring her artistry. All things considered, it’s sort of an ugly vase. Despite this, a sense of accomplishment buds in her chest as she stares at her creation.

“I like it,” Harry tells her, nodding like he’s proud of a promising protégé, “It’s quite sweet.”

“Thank you. What now?”

“Now—“ the instructor props one hand onto the countertop and the other against his hip, “You wash your hands, you take a picture, and you come back in three weeks to sand it and glaze it.”

Simple. It’s a simple set of instructions. Y/N brushes crackling, dried clay off of her fingertips against the cloth laid over the table, instinctively reaching for her purse.

She blinks up at him expectantly, “How much?”

Dimples wink awake with his soft simper, and he shifts his stance before he asserts, “Don’t worry about it.”

The young woman’s features shape into something crinkled, something bemused and unwilling of a discount. She shakes her head and glances back down to the tote, “No, I have to pay you. What about your tip?”

Harry crosses his arms over his chest, pecs flexing with the motion. Flexing, flexing, flexing, when will his muscles stop rippling? He sighs, cushiony mouth still smiling, “I think I’ll live. My tip was that I’ve helped you discover a hidden talent—“

Y/N snorts, eyeing the sloppy attachments to the shapely base, fingers still tucked over her wallet.

“—It’d defeat the satisfaction and all the pride I’ve got now,” the man declares, shrugging.

The unconvinced look she gives him coaxes him into a good-natured roll of his eyes, and Harry tuts before he compromises, raising his eyebrows, “But if you must tip me, you can tip me when you come back in three weeks, yeah?”

Begrudged, the young woman takes her hand from the edges of her wallet. “Fine. Okay.”

“Okay. Three weeks,” the man reminds her, a little smile playing over the plush of his mouth.

The world of ceramics is oddly pornographic, Y/N decides. But maybe clay isn’t innately erotic. Maybe it’s the way the man’s fingertips mold its shape, the way his digits look soaked in slip, the way his hands cradle over it as a wheel spins under his ducked stature. Maybe it’s the way his jade irises flit to her face when he makes an educational comment that’s obviously suggestive, Maybe it doesn’t have to do with clay, at all. Maybe it’s Harry.

Maybe it’s the way he tells her, “If I were you, I wouldn’t miss it. Glazing is my favorite part.”

#harry styles #harry styles smut #(ish)? there’s a lot of innuendos in this one #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles one shots #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles valentine’s day fic #valentine’s day fic

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biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer · 5 months ago

Note

Helllooo to one of the most amazing writer I know. I was wondering if you could write some hcs on everyone .Them going to the beach and how they would act :D

Seaswept Sands (All x MC/Reader - Beach HCs)

P A P S I C U M. >:}

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Seaswept: seaswept (not comparable) Located on the sea quotations.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

This motherfucker hates the beach with a vehemence. He also hates sunscreen, but will still apply it to remain sexily pale.

It’s canon that Sol dislikes the ocean, so the only reason he’d be even remotely close to the beach is because of you.

He probably doesn’t even like sand. He’d rather simply just walk around the beach area.

If you’re more of a beach lover, he’ll be reluctant to join you in the sand, and beg you to not make him go into the water.

Will wear all black and tie his hair up into a messy bun.

If you’re more of a rock investigator (irl me needs a medal for that tbh), he’s gonna avoid rock pools, mostly due to the fact he resents crabs.

Anything that can crawl on him gives him an ick (except if it’s you).

Probably will just find a cafe and order coffees for both of you, especially if you’re gonna swim. You’ll need something to help warm you up, after all.

Most likely just going to serve as a photographer, totally will not use said photos to jack off to you later so he can paint you later <3.

Will be tempted to murder the seagulls. Probably will wring at least one if it tries harassing him tbh- (you won’t find out dw).

Will supervise the bags and all of your belongings.

Also will drive you there and back. Will also prep the car with tons of towels so A. the car won’t get wet (only you’re allowed to be teehee) and B. so you’re not gonna freeze to death.

Hyugo would probably wear shark fins on his sides just to fuck with people.

He’s got extremely white teeth and (I headcanon) a very creepy grin for when he’s murdering intimidating people. So he’d 110% just very slowly emerge from the depths of the water (Pennywise-style) and scare off all the little kids in the vicinity.

His hair is everywhere around his face, and when he’s underwater it looks like a blue halo. One that you yank on when he’s unaware (and above water for fucks’ sake) to try and get him to yelp. (he may or may not accidentally moan but that’s a whole other story). Don’t worry he bites your ankle underwater in revenge.

He probably doesn’t care at all about what swimmers he wears, hell even Baby Shark merch will work for him. He will proudly display it as well. (balls of steel much??)

This guy hooves ice cream like it’s his last day alive. Maybe even iced coffee. He must consume sugar or he will implode.

Is gonna splash you. You both are gonna have water fights the entire time you’re there, until both of you are sopping wet and dripping with ocean water (and fish piss).

Mans will probably ask you to get piggybacked in the water, which tbf you attempt to, then he drags you both underwater.

Will forget to take photos. You’re gonna have to be responsible for that I’m afraid.

Will drive y’all there and back, blaring J-Pop on the radio and grinning maniacally. Be concerned.

This girl is going to be strutting into any beach, or any public place, looking the most glamorous of all.

Will wear a two-piece pink skort and bikini set 110%, will wear a translucent blouse over the top.

This girl will judge everyone else’s bikinis and swimmers more than actually doing something.

Although she isn’t opposed to going in the water, unless it’s cold – I headcanon Brittney hates the cold – you better not get her hair sopping wet, she will murder you and dump your body in a rock pool. <3

Will buy ice cream, she doesn’t seem the type to like salty foods tbh.

Will stalk up to you and ask what you want then vanishes.

She’s got herself a tanning bed btw.

Will read fashion magazines, maybe even do her beach aesthetic makeup. After all, she’s gotta be the hottest chick there. not that she isn’t already

Will eventually stick to building things out of sand, then getting annoyed and breaking them.

Is also going to shower before you, making sure she’s extremely clean before going to the car.

She drives btw.

Jess is the type to build sandcastles. I will fucking smite anyone who says otherwise.

If you both went to the beach, she’d be unwilling to enter the water, mostly due to the fact she def can't swim for shit, and also doesn't want her glasses to get wet (she hates goggles). Wears swimmers underneath a fucking oversized translucent blouse or something.

Would be the type to just plan ahead what exactly she’ll require to make the greatest sandcastle ever, and if that plan fails, she will be extremely sad for the next 2 hours.

Will be one of those people to bury their best friend/partner under the sand. Will put a lot of effort into making your mermaid tail look majestic.

You both will be eating ice cream under an umbrella, taking turns to take selfies (mostly you, she’d be very shy about having her face, she worries whether she’ll look dumb or not)

You both are gonna just watch over the belongings, and take turns showering at the beach so that (Jess’s) car is clean by the time you both get ready to leave.

You’d have had to win about 2000 bets with Geo to get him anywhere near a beach.

Would wear extremely dark gear, you’d not see any part of his body except his very wonderful head.

Will evade sand like it's the Black Plague.

Oh, just a warning, Geo is part fish.

He swims way too far for any sane human being. Hell, he doesn’t even swim, he just glides through the water. Deadpan. On his back. His hair is in a swimming cap btw, he’s not fucking risking damaging it. Also an avid sunscreen user, this man does not want to fucking tan, ew.

Will not eat anything there. He’s got standards. You’ll have to wine and dine him to get him to even sit down amongst all the other citizens of the city. Will reluctantly get you coffee though. He’ll probably only drink coffee if he craves it.

Will contemplate becoming a serial birdkiller; he hates birds. Their squawking makes him want to tear his eardrums out.

Will be extremely happy to walk along rocks, even boardwalking is better than actually being on the beach.

Will take aesthetic photos of the beach, especially if it's during the sunset. May or may not sneakily take some of you to store in his private stash.

Will also drive you both. He is never going to not drive, unless something drastic happens, like his arms getting cut off.

Crowe will have his hair down and is going to wear a stupidly wide-brimmed sun hat.

Is very careful about applying sunscreen, will check the UV rating multiple times.

Is going to watch over your shit and take really beautiful beach photos, will probably read a book silently under an umbrella. You mistook him for a woman one too many times.

Would make sure you don’t go too deep in the water, makes sure you swim between the flags as well.

Literally a walking, talking safety manual.

It’s okay you can shut him up later, with ball gags and a blindfold. <33

Will probs wear a Hawaiian shirt ngl (someone draw that). He’s a lot more relaxed at the beach. Will also be eating fancy af ice cream while lovingly watching you from afar. <3

Would be happy to search rock pools with you as well, in fact, any walking would do him well. He seems the type to love nature a lot.

Is going to be responsible for wrapping you in towels and ensuring you’re comfortable and your temperature is stable.

Will be the one to drive you both home. He can’t have you doing all the work, now can he?

Deryl will be fucking everywhere; this man loves the beach almost as much as he loves you.

Is going to buy as much food as humanly possible. You will have to remind him he cannot eat like a horse then expect to exercise, his stomach won’t be able to tolerate it. Will be disappointed after.

Tries to talk to the seagulls.

Will throw you into the ocean. Lovingly, of course.

Is also the type to get competitive with a bunch of teens over who can dig the deepest hole in the sand.

Will be looking for crabs, starts squealing from joy if he does see one.

Is probs gonna run across the sand with you (he wins every race you two have) shirtless. He’s gonna take ab pics.

You will not have a single normal looking photo with him, I'm sorry.

Although he does get you both a fuckton of food, so you’re not complaining.

You will have to drive both of your asses home though, he’s too excited to drive carefully enough.

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cherryblossomwriting · 8 months ago

Text

Alphabets Pt. 1 (A-E)

Just some fun things you and Harry like to do in bed…

A-Anal sex

Harry loves fucking you in the ass. Initially, you were very hesitant on having anal however, Harry made you feel very comfortable and said he would stop anytime you feel uncomfortable. He also used lube to help make the process less painful for you. But let's just say after that night you've never looked back. He made it so pleasurable. So now you'll make sure to include anal at least once every week. He liked to call it “your other tight hole”. His ego after the first time you both did anal was off the roof, because that means he got to be the man to take the virginity of all your holes. He came so hard, that his cum was flowing out of your ass dripping on your outer thigh. “Now youre all mine, I get to be the first man to fuck all your holes and I better be the only,” he panted while kissing your neck.

B-Blowjobs

Harry was never the guy to force his girlfriends to give blowjobs. There was just something about blowjobs that turned you on so much, so you would always be eager to suck on your boyfriend's cock. This was however a problem for your exes since they could never keep up with your high sex drive, but you fortunately didn't face this problem with Harry, since he had an equal or rather higher sex drive than yours. He was always letting you suck on his cock, even if it was just for you to keep it in your mouth to warm it. He loved the wet feeling of your saliva and your gags were music to his ears, giving him the confirmation that his cock was still too big for your small mouth. You would let him cum in your mouth and would lick all the cum off like the good girl you are.

C-Cum Inside

I mean there is no need to mention how OBSESSED Harry is with cumming in you. Whether it be your pussy, ass, mouth, stomach, breasts or back. He loved painting you with his cum, claiming you to be all his. He loved watching the creamy white substance drip from your holes. He also has a private folder on his phone that contains all your naked pictures filled with the dirty things you both do together. He loved going through the folder and thinking about how freaky you both are. You might look innocent but only he knows how kinky you can get in bed.

D-Daddy Kink

It's no surprise that you had a daddy kink. You and Harry have a seven-year age gap (him being the elder one). It isn't a lot, however there is just something about it that turns you on. You have always had a thing for older men. Harry is currently 32, however, when he got his first streak of white hair, it bothered him so much. But you on the other hand, Your OVARIES WERE EXPLODING!!!! Just the idea of pulling on his hair while he eats you out and moaning “Daddy” got you going. That night he ate you out like he was a starved man. You later on gave him the best blowjob of his life. “Does daddy like it when innocent, younger girls suck on his big cock. You are so dirty and perverted daddy,” you tested the waters. “Ahh, says the girl sucking an older man’s cock like her life depends on it. A whore who hasnt been fucked in a long time and I am the perverted one?” he replies with a cocky smirk.

E- Eating you out

Just the way you love giving Harry blowjobs he loves giving you a good head too. You were never a fan of the concept of a guy eating you out. None of your exes were good at it. It just made you frustrated. However, when Harry ate you out for the very first time after your third date, you knew you could never get tired of it. The combination of his long, ring-clad fingers and his magical tongue was deadly. He knew how to make a girl orgasm.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Lmk your thoughts in the comments below!

Requests are open!!!

Lots of Love

xoxo

#harry styles #smut #female reader #harry styles fandom #writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #fluff #harry styles smut #dom!harry styles #dirty smut #daddy harry styles #harry edward styles #harry edits

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darkfantasysworld · 12 days ago

Text

First MtF monster post on this blog. I genuinely don't know what I was thinking when I came up with this idea. This post is also not really gender specific, reader just has a cunt & womb.

Female or FtM reader x MtF!drider

You'd heard about driders, basically spider centaur creatures, but you didn't think you'd fall in love with one. You'd been talking to someone you assumed was a regular human for a few weeks, she always had an excuse for not going out but you assumed that maybe she was just shy in person. You couldn't have been more wrong since now you were looking up at the 8'4 woman with the lower half of a giant spider. Her hair was black with a red streak and went down to her waist, her eyes were also red… from what you could tell anyways. Her skin was dark brown with the skin on her waist fading to black to match her spider half. "You're so small.. I think we'll have fun.." She said, her voice was low and seductive. She lowered herself a bit and reached out, caressing your cheek with her hand, her nails were sharp and painted an almost blood red color. You decided to just go on with this date, she was nice while you were texting so you decided to give it a shot. You were sitting down across from the drider, you at least knew she was trans and on hormones, you couldn't help but look at her chest, it was rather large, possibly C or D cups. "What can I get you?" The waiter asked, holding a notepad and pen. "A bottle of your most expensive red wine," She looked at you as she spoke before turning back to the waiter "and I'll have the steak, medium rare, with roast potatoes." She said, eyeing the waiter's hand as he wrote it down before the two turned their attention to you. You told the waiter your order and watched him walk away then looked at the drider. "Is your name actually S—" she cut you off. "Yes, my name is Salem, I didn't lie to you, you just never asked what I am." She responded, reaching across the table and gently grabbing your hand. You could see her muscles and realized how gentle her touch was, her hands felt so soft.. The waiter brought you two the bottle of wine and two glasses before pouring a little in each glass and leaving, setting the bottle between your glasses. Salem moved her hands away from yours and took a sip of her wine. You grabbed your glass and took a sip of your wine as well, noting the… odd flavor. "This doesn't taste right." You looked at Salem who gave you a small smile. "It's supposed to have a tangy note." Salem responded and turned the bottle so you could see the label. "Spider venom…?" You said, confusion in your tone as you read the label. "Small doses help make you slightly immune.. in case I bite." Salem gave you a wink and reached over to gently caress your cheek. You leaned into her touch, wanting more, her skin was so soft.

You and Salem ended up going to a bar after the restaurant and she paid for everything… from what you remember. Your eyes fluttered open, you were moaning as you felt something long and thick push into you, your pussy dripping. Your vision was blurry as you looked around the dark room, concrete walls surrounded you. Your eyes widened and you let out a yelp as you felt the pleasurable object push into your cervix, the tip forced it to stretch and you felt objects move through the shaft and poured into your womb. You felt a bump form in your stomach but for some reason you couldn't move. "That's it.. let my eggs into your pretty little womb.." Salem whispered into your ear, you felt your stomach grow for what felt like hours before you felt Salem begin to pull out. "Wha'd ya do ta me…?" You asked, your words slurred so much you barely knew what you said. Salem didn't respond and just began thrusting her cock into you, your body was practically inviting her large cock, so warm, wet, and tight. Salem softly moaned into your ear as she raped you, her thrusts were slow and gentle, she didn't want to hurt you.

You moaned and whimpered, your body overstimulated as she came in you for the tenth time, she had to make sure her eggs were properly fertilized. Your eyes fell shut as you passed out only to wake up who knows how long later, you felt the eggs moving then, suddenly, you felt one break and your natural instincts kicked in, you pushed, screaming in pain as the baby drider came out, you couldn't even grab the baby you birthed before you felt more eggs breaking, forcing you push out at least two more babies in a row, thankfully they seemed to know how to move and crawled away from your stretched pussy so more could come out. You passed out after the tenth one only to wake up to Salem laying more eggs in your womb, you didn't know where the babies went and you tried to push her off but you were too weak. You remembered why you disliked driders, they used humans as incubators until one of them died.. at least Salem was being gentle.

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newbornwhumperfly · 2 months ago

Text

no place to run and no gasoline…

behold, a shiny new chapter for whumptober, i sure hope nothing horrible happens to anyone…😈😈😈🥺🥺🥺

whumptober 2024 • race against the clock | panic attack | “if only we could hold on”

CW: head injury, panic attack, near-death experience, dissociation, allusions to murder

title insp. by “stay alive” by josé gonzález

In movies, there’s always lots of blood. Not the little scrapes you get bashing a knee or an elbow or even a nasty bonk in the face. Onscreen. it’s bright and cheerful and gooey and it’s fun to imagine someone tossing a bucket of red paint on the actor. Strawberry syrup dripping off someone’s bashed lips. Food coloring pouring out of the nose.

This isn’t a movie.

And Claud’s head won’t stop bleeding.

And that scream can’t be him. Right? Just like the body falling into his arms can’t be Claud. It can’t be? She’s so tough, she’s so solid, she can’t be light in his arms, scooped up, pressed against his chest, her head can’t be so light when it thumps against his chest and the red pooling against his shirt can’t be anything but strawberry syrup and that high pitch of crying can’t be him?

He pitches, back and forth, dizzy, watching the spot on his shirt get bigger and bigger, and a hand grips over his elbow. Red-coated, sticky, strong. Bracing.

Morja. Oh, fuck, Morja. His whole side red from carrying her.

“Morja,” Cobi wails and it cracks and breaks and echoes through the tunnel. Long, concrete, carrying his sob far away, and the underground they are seems to crush in on his chest. He grabs back, clutching in the dark, gasping through the press of dark, blood, cold, all around them, his fingers slipping, scrambling, at Morja’s arm. “Claud, buddy, don’t fall asleep, pleaseClaudMorjawhat’swrongplease?-“

“Steady her head.”

“W-What?-“

Morja’s face, Cobi can’t make it out, it’s dark, so dark down here in these maintenance tunnels. Cobi’s headlamp flickering with how someone’s head is shaking the light all over the place and Cobi’s eyes are fucking blurred and the spot where Claud’s head is against his chest is wet and hot and oh no-

The hand grips harder on his elbow, cups over his wrist, oh, okay, Morja is cupping one hand behind Claud’s head, her hair is so wet, all her curls are stuck together, glued to his hand. Morja forms it, a cup around the back of her head.

“To steady, anotéros. Hold her to your chest t-to keep her head steady.”

Morja’s voice doesn’t even echo, flat and cold, so quiet, and Cobi fucking clings to it. Fuck, fuck, fuck, his arms tighten, brace, under Claud’s legs (too limp) and her head (too bloody) against where he’s gasping, panting, fuck, that’s Claud, she’s bleeding?

“Gah, okay, ‘kay- I gotcha, Claud?”

A gurgled murmur makes Cobi heave a strangled sob again. Claudia, oh please, g-d, no? His hand is so big around her head, her head shouldn’t look so little? It’s not right. Claud’s quiet. That’s not right.

His eyes shoot up, the low light of their headlamps making Morja’s face a narrow shadow, streaked with red.

“Get us out of here?” Cobi’s breath quivers in his lungs and he’s never felt smaller, less big, than this.

But Morja nods.

It’s like a fucking story, like a fairytale, but fucked all the way up, the way Morja leads them out of the tunnel, the way Cobi’s feet thud, long steady stable strides against the concrete. But aren’t all fairytales fucked-up? It didn’t feel this long getting down here.

Follow the bobbing light of Morja and his lamp ahead, hold his friend, his friend, in his arms and walk, as fast as you can run without bumps, without hurting her, Claud is hurt.

“Should- run- can’t hold her steady and run?-“

“Getting out is more important.”

How long has it been? It felt like an hour, it felt like barely that, sneaking slowly to not make noise. Was it really an hour to tiptoe down this tunnel to hell? Was it really the beginning of the day that they all got here, sneaking in, underground, for confirming a good checkpoint to sneak information?

What did they come here for that was so important?

Claud is bleeding, in his arms, and what could be so important?

All he can do is heave breaths that sound like sobs he’s never made before and the burn in his arms is nothing, it’s nothing, she’s a sack of potatoes, she’s the most precious thing in the world. His side is sharp, he doesn’t care, his shoulders burning and he doesn’t care.

It hurts to breathe, he can’t breathe, but that’s nothing. His chest hitches and it’s fine, it’s fine cause it’s all steady, his fastfastfast crying isn’t gonna jostle Claud, he’s got her, doesn’t he?

He can hold her. Please. She can hold on. Please. They can get out of here.

Cobi’s neck cranes, cheek pressing against the top of Claud’s head, the soft cloud sinking all the way down to her scalp, hard and solid and not the wet part, and he holds her in place with all of his body.

“Please hold on? Please, gotcha, girl, please hang on, gonna be o-okay-“

It’s faster, minutes, maybe - is a half hour a minute, a day - before the tunnel narrows, narrows, slopes upwards, into orange light spilling in from above. Cobi breaking ahead, emerging, gasping deep, crisp air. Up into tall grasses as high as a shoulder, wind on their faces. Cobi staggers, spins on the spot, skin feels sticky, face and hands all dry and crackling.

“Need- need to check the- the perimeter, right? Are- we gotta do that?” He’s scrambling for what to do as he kicks at the debris, the discarded cardboard and plywood and bullshit covering their car, hidden in the ditch what feels like forever ago? “Don’t- gotta watch for, um, people coming for us-“

“There won’t be.”

Morja stalks up out of the black mouth in the ground, soft-footed, quiet. His red hands gripping his knives, long and black and curving and dripping strawberry syrup. Drip, drip, drip. Breadcrumb trail behind him into the tunnels.

His face is nothing, it’s nothing, flat as stone, and red-all-over. A burst of cold wind whips across the field and Cobi shivers. No birds cry out here, no bugs, only pant and whimper and Claud’s broken groan.

Where is Jorah? Where’s Sarai, where’s the Captain, where’s- No. there’s nobody out here. There’s nobody but them. Nobody but this guy, who’s barely more than a stranger, who’s somehow a friend, who carried his dangling partner half around his neck with blood on both of them.

One of them a civilian, college basketballer, tank in title, an ox to lift heavy shit. One of them a soldier. bloody and calm, pounded through a meat-grinder to be this.

“…C…C’b?”

“Shhh, I’m here, gonna be so okay, it’s gonna be okay. Gotta-“ So much blood, looks down at her and her eyes flick side-to-side, flutter, roll back her eyelids and Cobi springs across the distance between the two of them and his wail breaks the silence to pieces.

“Morja, help?”

Those dark eyes flick up, no light in them, and when Morja reaches for her, Cobi can’t help but draw back, clutching her tighter. A whimper crawls out of his throat, eyes burning, streaming, they haven’t really stopped. That’s Claudia, it’s his best girl, she’s important.

“Yes, anotéros.” Is the whisper that greets him and some of that black-slate-dullness shifts and Cobi heaves a sob as he watches Morja snick the blades back into their leg-sheath, as he glances up, up.

A blurring bundle of getting the trunk open, laying down the backseat, precious stupid fucking time as Morja crawls into the back and holds out his arms. Cobi can’t help sobbing careful as he feeds Claud into the embrace, handing over a piece of his body on a plate. But Morja’s red-flecked arms take the weight, bracing, steady, lowering her down to the carpet as red puddles there too.

She’s small, small as him, and it hits him how Morja is small, how they’re both small, and how can that be?

“Fuck- gonna be okay, Claud, please stay with me, that’s it, yeah- scoot over, get in front?- Claud, we’re getting you out of here-“

“You need to drive.”

“No- no, no, no way, I’m holding her.”

“I can’t drive.”

“Stop, Morja, man, don’t argue, please, it’s gotta be you driving us out of here!-“

“I can’t.”

“YES, yes you fucking can, you CAN, Morja, fuck, let me IN-“

“I. Don’t. Know how.”

Cobi’s shadow cuts across the two of them and Morja’s hands are cupped over Claud’s head and in the screaming he has already somehow squished a balled-up something to her hurt and it’s reddening.

Oh.

Fuck.

Fuck this fuck this fuck this.

“Anotéros.”

Cobi’s eyes blur and burn.

“Sh- Claudia doesn’t have time.”

Please, g-d, don’t let her die.

“Be careful.” Cobi wrenches out, chest heaving as he drags the trunk closed, as he pulls himself away, somehow, into the driver’s seat, somehow grips the steering wheel with slippery palms, fuck, swipes them over and over on his pants, big drops splashing down on the streaks.

Sticky red jam.

He doesn’t know how he stops heaving, he definitely isn’t not fucking sobbing, but the rearview mirror shows Morja’s legs stretched out around Claud, bracing her in. Shows his arms stiff and stable as they hold her head stable. Shows his hands, red as they are, gripping Claud’s head, curly and precious and holding all of her in it, like the stem of something glass. Cobi’s hands stop shaking, the slick fumble over buttons finding what he needs, his sobs slow, they slow.

The balled-up thing Morja is soaking up her blood with is his own jacket.

It’s that which Cobi know he can gun it, send this compact little monster of a car barrel up through the ditch, onto the flatland, grinding up dust to swallow up the nightmares behind them. It’s the way Morja doesn’t tip or jerk or tumble with the swaying of the rocketing car that makes Cobi know, somehow, know that Claud’s not spilling everywhere either. If Morja won’t fall, Claud won’t.

“Stay with me, honey,” Cobi croaks, sobs crushing out of his lungs but his hands firm on the wheel. “Don’t die, don’t you dare die, just gotta get you home.”

do not fret, gentle readers, this is the first part of an arc, so, stay tuned for further suffering 🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖

taglist: @much-ado-about-whumping @haro-whumps @whump-tr0pes @i-eat-worlds @suspicious-whumping-egg

@whumpthisway @wolfeyedwitch @redwingedwhump @straight-to-the-pain @whumpzone

@stoic-whumpee @liliability @whump-me-all-night-long @whumping-every-day

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whatgoeswhumpinthenight @tears-and-lilies @kixngiggles @scoundrelwithboba

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years ago

Note

I saw Oblitus casa on what you do write and i just wanted to ask if i could ask for a story Mick mick / Mother perhaps reincarnating a young child who met there end , into a variant of one of the toons after they ended up at at the cabin/treasure island? Perhaps they are an orphan. all toons are Mothers children after all

Mother always kept a keen eye on her children.

Every single one.

She's given those who lost their way new life, bred newfound vengeance into their inky hearts, and above all else..gave them a new purpose.

With the island under her total control, there was no limit to what she could do for her ever-growing family. Thus, she made them stronger, gifting them new abilities to help them deal with intruders from the outside world.

While most of her children consisted of unfinished toons born from botched 3-D printing attempts and old mascot costumes...

She never expected a human to be among them.

Yet one night, you were brought to her, on the cusp of death. You were found unconscious in the tunnels, presumably getting lost down there and eventually succumbing to both dehydration and exhaustion. You had no parents, as they mysteriously disappeared when they went snooping around the island during an SSA assignment, ultimately leaving you trapped here.

Mother despised humans, yes..but you were an exception.

You didn’t ask for this. Your parents were just obsessed with studying her and her children like specimen, failing to realize the mistake they were making...until it was too late.

How could she let you go? She simply couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

Those maternal instincts of hers were ever persistent.

So she decided to let you fall asleep in her arms, whispering promises that you’ll awaken to a new life and a new form.

She had always been curious about how a human soul might handle her powers; the others lived in misery at their flawed forms, most being devoid of souls yet incredibly sentient.

Maybe..yours will persevere and make you better.

Only time will tell once she’s done.

..........

“It’s time to wake up, my child.”

Opening your eyes to the familiar ethereal voice, you immediately realized that..something was amiss.

You should be dead, right?

But no, you were very much alive. You slowly sat up, getting a bearing on your surroundings as you stared down at your gloved hands-

Wait..

‘Why are my hands..gloves?’ You tried pulling them off, but to no avail. It felt like you were just tugging at your skin.

Confused, you reached up hesitantly, eyes widening as you no longer felt your hair--or even your own face. It felt smooth and wet all over, as if a giant paint can was poured on you.

One of your fingers accidentally dug into your temple, making you flinch. But it didn’t hurt as you expected; rather, it felt soft and squishy. And when you pulled your hand away, you were shocked to see ink dripping from it.

Did you...become one of them?

“Impressive..your soul helps you sustain a near-perfect form.”

Finally looking up, you gasped at the sight of the shadowy Mickey with two glowing white rings of eyes. They never blinked, which frightened you as you attempted to shuffle away, any attempts to scream being of no use.

“Shh, don’t be afraid, my sweet.” She consoled, her voice a gentle murmur as she kneeled down, arms surrounding you. “I have saved you, healed you. Take a look around. All of your friends are here.”

Hesitantly listening to her, you noticed the small group of toons encircling you: there were some weird versions of Mickey and Minnie, an Oswald with no arms, a headless Goofy, a Goofy covered in ink, the head of Donald Duck, and a Pluto with hollow eyes.

‘Are these..the toons my parents studied?’ You wondered, finding them all to be rather..fascinating.

You should’ve been absolutely terrified.

You begged your parents not to leave you alone here, knowing these...nightmarish things were roaming around. In your attempts to get away from them, you met your untimely demise.

But now you realized there was nothing to be afraid of. Not anymore.

These toons were just like you:

They, too, were lost little children, abandoned and unloved.

Mother could see you were finally understanding your situation. “You can stay and play with us forever. But do remember this one rule: the tunnels are very, very dangerous.” As she spoke, she took your hands and helped you stand. “You mustn't go down there for any reason. Is that clear?”

“..y.....yes, Mother.” Even your normal voice was long gone, being replaced by a distorted version of your character’s.

Yet somehow, you were perfectly fine with this.

You felt...happy. Unlike your own mother, this shadow showed you genuine love and concern over your safety.

It’s all you could ever ask for.

“Good, very good.” She crooned gently, letting your hands go and floating backwards. “Now..go play. Have fun. I’ll always be watching..”

And with that, she faded away into the darkness, leaving you with the other toons and mascots.

They approached you one at a time, eager to greet you. At first they were against the idea of Mother reincarnating a child of scientists who frightened them with their constant intrusions..

But...you turned out just fine.

You’ll make a wonderful addition to the family.

#clanask #fnati x reader #five nights at treasure island x reader #oblitus casa x reader #child reader #platonic

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chilumi-shipper · 3 years ago

Text

When Mommy's Resting

Diluc x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut, NSFW, Mommy Kink, Consensual Somnophilia, Sub Diluc, Dom Mommy Reader, Overstimulation, Oral Sex (Reader Receiving)

Summary: To most people, Diluc was a man of mystery, a strong, rich and handsome business man who seems to always be stoic, but within the space of your own home, he is just sensitive baby who likes getting you to ride his dick. He was obedient, until of course he was put under the influence of the Cavalry Captain.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Diluc was done for the night, he sighed, it was a long day bartending at the tavern, he can't wait to just go home to you and cuddle up to mommy.

As he was cleaning up, he thought if you were still awake at this hour. 'Probably not, she did tell me that she has a lot of things to do with Cyrus and the others in the Adventurer's Guild, she must be tired.'

As he was wiping down the counter, he heard the door of the tavern open and close, and an unwanted guest stood right in front of him. The Cavalry Captain, Kaeya, who seems to wear a smirk quite different from his usual grin.

"Diluc, good you're still here." The blue haired man walked up to him, arms crossed with mischief painted on his feature.

"We're closed, better get going, Sir Kaeya." Diluc said with a rather tensed and irritated voice. But that only seemed to amuse the knight.

"Ohh, I see." The blue haired man still sat on a stool in front of his brother though. "Eager to see your Mommy back at the Dawn Winery?" Diluc froze up, looking at the former with a shocked expression that seemed to irk him even more.

"I d-don't know what you're talking about." Diluc stuttered, turning away from his brother and pretended to clean up the other parts of the counter.

The Cavalry Captain chuckled, "She told me." 'No, she wouldn't, my Y/N would never.' "Told me about what goes around you guys, pretty interesting. It makes me quite jealous, my flings aren't usually comfortable with that kind of relationship." He continued and Diluc's clenched his hand in frustration. You did tell him! And now that one eyed punk is gonna try to gt you from him.

He looked back at the smirking man and glared. "Don't get any ideas, bastard." He'll never let anyone steal you from him.

"Relax, brother. Although I am quite interested in that kind of relationship, I'm quite sure she doesn't like anyone but you." Kaeya laughed, "However, she did tell me another thing. You're a bit too obedient aren't you?" Diluc felt uncomfortable, sure when you tell him that he's a good boy, kiss his forehead and pat his head while you ride him, he feels so good about himself, other people telling him just makes him uneasy.

"This is between me and her, it's non of your business, Kaeya." He said in a serious tone. "I'd rather not talk about this." Diluc straightened up, finished up cleaning and walked away from his brother.

As he was about to leave though, the knight stopped him. "Don't you want to contribute more on that relationship, she seems to be the only one putting in actual effort." Kaeya stated to him. He smiled when Diluc stopped and sighed.

"Alright, what do you have in mind?"

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

He can't believe it, why is he doing this?

Did you think he was boring? Maybe you complained to Kaeya about him and his brother is just giving him a boost.

Yeah, maybe that's it.

Well, anyway, as he watched your sleeping figure, Diluc smiled a bit, you look so beautiful, like an angel, and now he's supposed to take you this way.

Being honest to himself, he is so excited! You two have always been so comfortable around each other, to the pint where he basically knows that you won't mind what he's doing right now, taking of your garments that didn't even cover much in the first place.

He loves seeing your naked body, you perfect boobs that he loves to suck on when you shove his face onto your chest, your skin with a few stretch marks that only he's been able to see, your plump thighs that you squeeze around his head whenever you order him to eat you out, and then, your pretty little cunt, just made for him and his cock, the juices you make are like a sweet tasty treat just for him.

Diluc can't wait to taste it again.

Gently spreading you're legs apart, he was met by your slightly wet pussy, he can practically feel his mouth watering with hunger for you. Diluc tested the waters buy liking your clit with the tip of his tongue, you didn't move. He felt his heartbeat increasing by the second. He was still afraid to wake you up, deep down, he wants to keep his title as your good boy despite him defiling you right now.

'Fuck it.' And he just shoves his face between your legs, lapping your juices and sucking on your clit. He can hear you let out a few whimpers, Diluc's never heard that before! Usually you're the one that always makes him moan and scream, this time he can actually hear you make lewd sounds! And boy does he love it, the noises you make irks him on even more.

He sucked even harder on your clit and that's when you let out a moan that just straight up went to his cock.

"D-Diluc?" He looked up and there you were, with tired eyes that looked so so cute. But he didn't stop sucking though and you kept moaning. "Ughh, baby.... Mhhhm, baby, what are you- Ohhh!" His tongue grazed your hole, which made you jump. And now you're holding his head and shoving it down even more, as you grind your cunt on his face. "Ohhh, that feels so good, Luc." You moaned out.

Diluc loves it, the way you just grind on him mouth, loves how much juices your giving him. He just really loves you.

And you came hard on his mouth, which he of course as a good boy, swallowed.

Your head fell back onto the bed. Tired from your post orgasm. You felt your Diluc suck a few more times to clean up your cunt before slipping beside you.

You rised up and open your arms for him, and he gladly welcomed himself into your warmth, laying his head between your boobies.

"What was that for, love?" You asked him. He felt his heart clench. Did you not like it? And now he's gonna lose his good boy privileges.

"You didn't feel good, Mommy?" He asked with a broken tone, looking up at you to see that you're already staring at him.

"Of course I did, silly!" You laughed a little, "I think I was just surprised, my baby boy, doing something so naughty." You booped his nose as he smiled a little.

When you told Kaeya about Diluc and your kinks and stuff, you knew he was gonna go to Diluc to embarrass and probably suggest something to him. But you never expected Kaeya to tell Diluc to eat you out in your sleep!

You did purposely do that so Diluc would have motivation for a little spice. And you got it, and boy did it feel amazing.

"But was I good?"

"You always are, baby."

With that, he nuzzled his face at your chest lovingly.

"But..."

His ears perked up. "It's not fair that Mommy's the only one to cum right?" You asked teasingly.

And then he felt it, the painfully hard cock still confined within his pants. You start to rub it with your leg.

You are gonna give him a lot tonight.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"Ahhh... Mommy, please.... ughh." You stroked his messy red hair as you savagely went up and down on his cock, squeezing it so good with your delicious pussy walls.

And he let out a low grunt as he came once again, he's so tired from cumming so many times inside you already. But just looking at your face and down to where you two connect makes him hard all over again. It just feels too good to stop.

"That's right." You roll your hips around before slamming back down to take all of him. "Moan for me, baby. Tell Mommy what you want." You grabbed his hands and guide them to cup and fondle your boobs as you ride him.

He came so many times that there's only a little bit coming out when he hits his peak.

"P-please, make me cum inside you again." He said while holding back a few moans.

He lets out a growl after he came out for the last time and you felt his seed pour into your cunt that's already full of his cum.

Getting up from his dick, his and your cum starts to drip down your thighs.

You sat down between his legs and spread you thighs to show him your pussy stuffed full of your shared cum. "Oh, baby. Look at that, you came so much, huh?" You giggled as it dripped out of you.

"M-Mommy, please keep it inside." He whispered in a low voice, making you smile even more. Exhaustion was shown all over his features. You knew that he did feel better if you keep all his cum inside you every time you make him cum so many times.

You giggled again, "Alright, baby. Go to sleep, maybe we'll do this again tomorrow morning." He nodded before closing his eyes.

But before you can even lay next to him, his eyes opened up immediately.

"Why did you tell Kaeya?"

Oh, right. Hehe.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #diluc x reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc smut #mommy kink #tw: somnophilia

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tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

Text

— “PANTY THIEF + BAKUGOU.”

author’s note(s): inspired by this fanart and everyone being horny on THE DASH !! dedicated to @honeykeigo n @lady-bakuhoe for enabling my horny behaviour ok ok. also this turned out longer than i expected so ,,, have fun?

warning(s): mdni, 18+, smut, dubcon, mentions of drinking, uhh sniffed and stolen panties, slight!exhibitionism, power play dynamics, fingering, pussy slaps uwu, fem!reader + pro hero!bakugou.

“y-you uh, you don’t haf’ta do this mishta—?“

“dynamight.”

“r-right, dy-ma-might!”

katsuki had rolled his eyes the first time you spoke to him, a sweet, darling little girl too drunk on whatever shitty alcohol you’d been served at the bar on friday night. you obviously didn’t drink much, maybe even drunk too much— the hero would tell by the way your eyes crossed with your legs as you walked and the fact that you couldn’t remember the right way to spell your own name and it was clear your friends were a bunch of assholes for abandoning their shit faced friend to find her own way home.

he hated, this part of the job but he’d have felt bad if the guy following you home had done something bad to you and besides— the way you pressed yourself to the explosive hero, breasts spilling out of your tight black dress, thick and juicy thighs exposed to the fresh night air makes the whole ordeal worth it. oh you’re so cute, got katsuki’s cock stirring in his pants— his baggy hero costume suddenly becoming way too fucking tight for his liking. you’ll pay him back, he knows that you will, all of his fans do in some way or another.

you’ll be special though, if the smell of your saccharine cunt is anything to go by. slick dripping down your shaky thighs while he guides you down the empty street, and of course you’d be attracted to him. bakugou will have to indulge in you; his reward for being such a gentleman, for being your hero. “this ish me,” you squeak when the pair of you arrive at the door to your apartment complex. your words are smooshed together by your own drunken haze while you unlock the door to let yourself in.

how rude of you, forgetting all about dynamight who’d basically saved your life tonight. without much of a fight, bakugou pushes you against the door, effectively keeping it closed, his eyes cloud over— a storm thick with lust as you look up at him so innocently he could break. “not gonna invite me up, sweet stuff?” he coos, amused at the shiver that runs laps down the base of your spine. your thighs jump apart only just, giving the hero an opportunity to shove his hand up your dress to cup your sweet little cunt.

“i— i didn’t know—“ your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, confusion etched so prettily across your face it makes bakugou want to bend you over and fill your hole to the brim. he’d save that for later though. “didn’t think you’d want to—“

the blonde growls, thick fingers easily finding your panties under that short dress of yours. the black lace is soaked to the bone, a sticky mess spreading across the digits that now pinch at your puffy clit. you jump and bakugou growls hungrily. “s’awfully rude don’cha think, sweet stuff? that’s okay though, i think you can reward me right fuckin’ here, don’chu?” a toothy smirk tugs at the hero’s lips when you dumbly nod in agreement, your body trembling from a mix of cold, neediness and excitement. “atta girl, spread those needy fuckin’ thighs for me then.”

you seem to have sobered up quickly, listening well for the hero that saved you and part your meaty thighs to let bakugou push your panties to the side and give him more access to your runny cunny. “p-please dynamight, d-do somethin,” comes your whiney voice as he lowers his to get a better view of your spread your pussy lips; he watches as your hole oozes just for him, desperate to filled and fucked. it’s too early for his cock, he needs to give you a taste of something else before you get drunk on him.

without warning, he pushes two of his expert fingers past your puckering entrance, immediately curling them in a come hither motion as his heated red eyes flicker up to watch your face. your ruby painted lips hang open in a silent moan while your fingers dig into bakugou’s shoulders so hard your nails form tears in his hero suit. “fuckin’ look atcha baby, barely even touched ya ‘n you’re already suckin’ down my fingers so greedily.” he snarls, sharp teeth coming down on your barley clothed breast.

bakugou’s thumb massages rough circles into your clit, pulling more honeyed cries from your lips as your eyes screw shut. “f-fuck, dynamight, need more of your touch, ‘m begging you please!” is all you can say, mindlessly babbling as you fail to keep yourself up right. the explosive pro hero steadies you with an arm wrapped around your waist, fingers curling again to explore more of your velvet walls.

“it’s katsuki, to you,” he barks out, using the arm around your waist to smack your sloppy cunt, the wet sound echoing across the street. “needy little thing, beggin’ me like this, who am i to deny your wishes?” bakugou grins, mercilessly scissoring his digits into your tight heat to stretch you wide open for him. he can’t believe his luck, the way you’re so pliant and responsive to him and him alone.

it’s too soon for him to be this addicted to your cute moans filling the crisp air but he can’t help himself, not when you clamp around his scarred fingers with every pump of them into your silken heat. not with the way your own fingers now curl in sun kissed blonde hair— pulling the hero upwards to suck on his bottom lip, followed by his tongue.

you cry out, the most beautiful sound katsuki’s every heard in all twenty years of living when his fingers press down hard on that gummy pleasure spot inside you, and like the good girl you are for him, you keep your shaky thighs open for him. “you’re such a good fuckin’ doll, letting me finger you out in the open like this, anyone could see us but you wouldn’t care, not when you’re creamin’ your panties for dynamight, right sweet thing?” bakugou’s lewd words go straight to your cunt, entangled with the squelching noises as he moves within you.

“yes! yes! wouldn’t care, don’ care...j-jus wanna cum for you, s-suki—fuck, please—“ you mewl into the night, doe eyes shimmering with tears as the knot in your lower tummy gets tighter and tighter until you can’t bare it anymore.

bakugou grins, curling his fingers once more to send you hurtling off of the edge. he can’t stop thinking about how soaked your little lace panties must be, about all the things he’s going to do with them once he gets them off of you.

“cum.” your pussy follows his orders for you, white flashing behind your eyes as a scream rips in your throat and shoots out into the quiet night. the knot in your stomach snaps, release splashing out against bakugou’s hand and hero suit— he makes you cum so hard you almost black out, a twitching mess in the hero’s arms.

when you finally come to, bakugou’s slurping your nectar off of his fingers, head cocked to the side as you shakily look up at him. “i, uh...t-thank you!” you breathe, blinking away the buzzing noise in the back of your head. “for...uh...”

you’re so cute, flushed with heat and slick dripping from between your legs. you obviously think that was a one time thing, but bakugou hasn’t finished cashing in his reward. the hero shakes his head, using a thumb and forefinger to tilt your own up to meet his ruby gaze. “give me your phone and take off your panties.” he orders, voice authoritative and never wavering— you’re confused, but don’t question him, just as a good girl should.

rooting around in your now discarded purse, you pull out and unlock your going for katsuki, who busies himself with your contacts. embarrassment crawls up your spine when you reach for your underwear, still wet with your arousal and release, you look to bakugou hesitantly. “do i have to—?”

“off.” he grunts, barely looking up from your device as you shimmy out of the lace garment and hand it to him. bakugou gives you the same evil smirk from earlier while you collect yourself against the door, sniffing the flimsily, wet material before shoving them into the pocket of his pants. his cock is hard as a fucking rock, but he’ll be able to deal with it appropriately after his patrol. “i’ll be keeping these. this is where we say g’night sweet stuff.”

the way you curl in on yourself, perhaps a bit humiliated at the idea of your panties being taken by the number two pro hero is adorable, and if he didn’t have patrol, katsuki would have eaten you up right then and there. “goodnight dynamight— i mean, k-katsuki, thank you for everything and h-have a safe night.” you squeak out quickly, moving to open the door again.

“not a problem, honey,” bakugou whispers with a lowered voice, pulling you in to swipe his tongue across your bottom lip, shoving his tongue down your throat in a kiss goodnight. “now get your cute ass upstairs, don’ want anyone to see your leaky cunt like this. that’s fuckin’ mine.”

you do as you’re told, bidding the hero one last farewell before dashing up the steps and into your apartment. your heart and mind race a thousand miles a minute, crazed with the fact that you had just been fingered to the best fucking orgasm of your life by the number two pro hero. you have to force yourself to shower, mapping out all of the spots that bakugou had touched you and growing giddy at the small burn marks he’d left against the inner workings of your thighs.

that night, or rather, early morning— you settle into the sheets, mind still plagued with thoughts of katsuki bakugou, when your phone pings with a text.

to: yn.

from: unknown.

— never got your name sweet stuff, care to tell me who’s name i’ll be moaning tonight?

( one attachment ).

your heartbeat thunders in your ears, familiar warm pooling between your legs yet again as you open the image— knowing that there can be only one person that it’s from. a quiet moan slips past your lips as the picture loads to reveal bakugou in your very same black lace panties from earlier— the slick from your release pressed up against his barely covered cock, while he jerks himself off, precum oozing from his blistering red tip.

you exhale, typing back your name and hitting send— thanking whatever higher power that lead katsuki bakugou to steal your fucking panties.

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4dtk · 3 years ago

Note

hi!!! are you taking smut requests? ignore this if you dont but if you are, can i request morning sex with mark?

nectar (mark)

warnings/tags: irl porn at the end for visualisation, blowjob, cum swallowing, riding, unprotected sex, pwp, brief face-sitting

word count: 1.9k

a/n: sure anon <3, this is for fem!reader btw. link at the end contains irl porn pleaaase don't click unless you're comfortable!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT, MINORS DNI!

“oh man… he’s knocked out cold,” you mumble, squinting at the bright light seeping in through the windows. it baths the room in warmth perfectly, providing that gentle caress of apollo in the messy room that you could half call your home at this point. like the complicated wires of his recording software bundled up at the corner, you were entangled tightly with mark’s complicated life as an idol, having had met the man at a concert where the group’s lightstick hit you in the face, hard.

it had become a running joke ever since you’ve been coming over to the dorms more and more, even getting you a celebratory cake that said please don’t injure her again when mark had finally confessed after months of pestering from the members. johnny had whispered to you that maybe you could finally get your revenge by slamming mark’s face into the cake.

giggling quietly at the memory from two years ago, you’re finally met with mark’s peaceful face, deep in slumber. the sun hardly touches him, blocked by your body as you propped your upper body up with an elbow. he looks so beautiful, so so divine that you can’t help but trail a hand over his covered body, blanket up to his neck since he gets cold easily.

“mmhm…” he mumbles, albeit still unconscious with the slightest knit of his eyebrows. you’re on high alert with that expression, observing him for a few seconds more if he really did happen to have a bad dream. his breaths seem to be laboured, irregular and needy that you catch on without fail. while you readjust yourself under the covers, your knee brushes against his centre to test the waters while your eyes drink in the furrowing of his eyebrows and shaky breathless whimpers he lets out.

“oh. so it’s that kind of dream,” a smirk is plastered on your face, frequenting the contact of your knee against his crotch as you rub him through the fabric. mark thrashes in the sheets below you, obvious that your movements are only fuelling the nasty, dirty fantasy he’s having in his sleep. with a hand, it slips inside his shorts to squeeze the bulge, adding and removing pressure that mark straight up ruts into your hand.

“a..ahn… (y/n)…” he mumbles out, digging his face deeper into the pillow with a tense to his muscles, on edge like intense dance practices and when mark’s just striving to make you cum behind closed doors. right now, you smile to yourself with the tables turned, speeding up your hand. the covers are thrown off of you and you take the chance to see how much he’s making a mess through the underwear, hips shimmying out of the loose sweatpants to chase the tempting touch of your skin on his dick.

you’re so zoned in on the sight that you don’t realise mark’s already awoken, the scrunch on his face displaying the mix of immense pleasure and the annoying headache he’s feeling due to a hangover. like a vice, your hand tightens around his hardening cock that it draws a long moan out of him and you have to bite your lip from concealing your own. the other fists the bedsheets, finger tapping against the cotton; a habit you noticed he does when he's close.

"ack!" you exclaim when mark takes over, meeting his familiar dick as he fishes it out of his underwear, now fully rock hard with beads of pre-cum leaking from its tip. the idol wastes no time in forcing your mouth on him, smiling when it's thrusted so deep that it touches the back of your throat; you gag uncomfortably but recover rather quickly, humming around his length. the warmness of your mouth mimics your pussy so good, and mark can't help but continue the bucking of his hips.

it reminds mark of the countless many sessions he's had with you, hot and heavy in the recording studio as you fucked ruthlessly in the soundproof toilet. shivering and toe-curling on the vibrating washing machine, stimulating your clit while mark hit it from the back. maybe mark's checking off all the boxes, because the way your eyes look up at him at half-mast, desire swirling in your eyes, sinks him into a trance. the gentle whisper of sun rays paint your body like a renaissance painting, splayed over his legs and the remainder of the duvet covers. maybe this is the check box that marks the time where he lazily fucks into you as you struggle to hold in your moans, voice raspy from the morning.

likewise, the thought of mark's cock in you makes you shift uncomfortably, the wet patch on your underwear undeniably growing by the minute with your core pulsating and throbbing. his hands hold your head in place, fingers carding through your locks laced with possibly last night's drunken sweat. they pull back your hair, creating a small ponytail while you tease the tip with your tongue and lick a stripe up his shaft. the sounds you make with your mouth could rival the ones you're making with your fingers on your core, moaning the slurping up his pre-cum that has his length twitching.

"y-yes... oh fuuuck, (y/n)..." his head is thrown back as your bob your head, trailing your hands over his torso where you can feel the contraction and expansion of his ribs. it doesn't take long for mark to cum, hips halting its movements for a second to pump your mouth full of his seed. a smile breaks through when you cringe at the taste, but he's sure you don't mind it since you've done it many times before. "c'mere, angel."

the name makes you grin, getting off the comfort of his thighs to let him taste himself, indulging in a short kiss before mark takes the chance to tug at your shorts. he thumbs it down without effort, coming right off your bottom half as you manoeuvre from knee to knee to let the man take it off.

mark whistles lowly at how soaked you are, a lazy, boyish grin taking over his features as his fingers slip between your folds. they shamelessly leak more juices when mark's digits make contact with your clit, already clenching over cock that you haven't even received. slowly, they trickle down the expanse of his hand and your thighs, a lone string of arousal connecting from your cunt to the tip of his finger.

"so wet, so early in the morning," mark giggles, mirroring your earlier action as he prods at your mouth with those fingers. you taste yourself on him, suckling and licking around them like you just did to his length. "i'll fit right in, won't i?"

you make a noise of approval before grabbing his dick, inching it into you gently and gradually. mark bottoms out and you mewl, shivering at how deep he's in you without any effort before grinding down on him. the little tufts of hair on his skin brush against your sensitive spots near your folds that make the pleasure all the better, and you have to brace yourself with both hands on his chest.

"feel good, honey?" mark's found clarity in his voice now, voice dripping exactly like the pet name while you continued to get used to the seemingly growing erection in you. with eyes closed from both the pleasure and the increasing brightness of a new day, your hips move on their own accord, moving up and down his dick at a slow pace.

"'s good, mark," you babble, instantly speeding up your ministrations. his cock splits you open so good even if you aren't going at your usual pace, choking out mixes of moans and whimpers along with the sounds of your ass descending on his dick.

"you're so d-deep, mark! ooh, hhnn..." your arms are ready to give out, opting instead to lay on his chest with a small pound me leaving your lips. your arms go around him to clutch at the headboard, the sudden snap of mark's hips elicits a dramatic gasp from you. he's filling you up to the brim, and the groan in your ear shows the similar feeling that mark's experiencing.

mark takes your order to heart, the force of his hips continuing their assault on your poor, poor pussy so early in the morning. "babe, you're so- fucking- t-tight, holy shit!" a breathless laugh, a hand to your ass, butterfly kisses along your collarbone, everything else is forgotten except for those few things that dance around in your mind.

"faster, deeper, please...!"

his chuckle is interrupted by a groan, "i'm at my fastest, baby. i did go all out for our last concert yesterday."

the squelching sounds coming from between your legs make you cry out, drool dripping down the sides at your mouth as mark takes up more of your mind. mark, mark, mark falls from your lips repeatedly as he rocks in and out,

"you-" a soft, delirious giggle escapes you at mark's reference to the concert yesterday.

"no words, huh? maybe i should fuck you till you're babbling nonsense," the lack of response makes mark smile against your skin, mouth latching onto your neck.

with the little tap of his finger against your ass and the falter of his thrusts, you know he's close to reaching his peak. his sloppy movements still bring out the worst in you, either way, moans increasing tenfold as his cock continues to impale you. you hold onto his bicep for life, body rocking deliciously against his.

you're so warm, both inside and out, forehead already producing beads of sweat as your hot cavern clenches around his shaft repeatedly. mark pounds into your pussy relentlessly, brushing up against that spot that makes your body convulse before you're gushing and cumming around him, juices leaking non-stop onto the sheets while the knot continues to be undone.

"ahnn- mark! maaark..." the drawl of his name makes the other's eyes roll back in pleasure, not giving you the chance to recover as he pulls his cock out of you. there's an endless trail of profanities leaving his mouth while he pumps out the last bit of restraint out of him, finally letting go on his stomach when he looks at your spasming body, pussy dripping with both your juices.

his cock spurts out hot, white cum, staining his stomach before he lets out a satisfying whine and other breathless words that you can't catch on to. you swipe up his seed with your finger, dipping it into your mouth like dessert that you hum around it.

"i guess i won't need breakfast for a while," you joke, clenching your thighs together to prevent the further dirtying of your sheets. you did change it a week ago...

"ah. no no, don't close 'em," mark beckons you closer with his finger, "i won't need breakfast, either."

you know what's in store for you when the other licks his lips, a sick grin appearing on his face. and when you finally take your rightful place on his face, you find that you'll never get tired of mark's tongue laid flat against your soaking cunt, lapping all that you can offer that mark describes tastes like honey, like nectar. you tell him he's lying, but who are you to judge the words of someone who eats you out so good?

one day, you'll be convinced, but for now, you're fine with accepting the embarrassing compliments from mark, since he's the only one that makes your pussy flutter like a little slut.

(it's irl porn, please please don't click unless you're comfortable) how i imagine mark would fuck you <3

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pleasantanathema · 4 years ago

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Pretty Please | Porco Galliard

Paring: Porco Gallaird x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Overstimulation, begging, face sitting, ~sixty-nine~

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Thank you @present-mel and @whats-her-quirk for these yummy requests. 🥵 I just want to be so filthy with our sexy, whiny boy. My requests are closed, but I’m still working on ones still sitting in my inbox 💕

You could always get whatever you wanted from Porco Galliard. All it took was honey-sweet praise and perhaps a well-placed hand on his chest, in his hair, just little things to fluff him up, to have his ego simmering under his skin. And the most satisfying thing was taking that pride of his and turning it into little, desperate, panting whines.

He was already losing control, pink blush dusting across his cheeks and the bridge of his cute, up-turned nose.

“You like that, Pock?”

His fingers curled in your hair, the strands tightening around his knuckles.

“Don’t,” he groaned, thick neck tilting back against the pillow, “I told you not to call me that.”

But when did you ever listen to him anyways?

You smirked, flattening your tongue as you swept quick, tempting kitten licks along the pretty, swollen head of his cock. God, he was already so hard, twitching up towards his stomach as your mouth gathered what was already leaking from him. Your hand was pumping slowly around his thick shaft, a heavy vein throbbing beneath your thumb.

“Fuck, you’re always s-such a tease.”

It was true, you always reveled in being able to make him fall apart, to build him up throughout the day to only keep the tension rising once you got him alone.

He was your dirty little secret to do with as you please, though you were sure you had him convinced he was the one in control. Porco was tugging you closer, urging your hot tongue to glide farther down his cock. You indulged him, even using your cum and spit stained lips to slip along silken skin, sucking ever so gently as you leisurely played with him.

His hips bucked when you placed a soft suck at the base of his cock, so close to taking one of his plump balls into your mouth, but still not close enough.

Another guttural moan spilled from his throat, pitch turning a little higher when you finally slid the head of his cock with your mouth, cheeks hollowing for only a moment before you released him with a wet pop from your lips.

“D-don’t,” it sounded like he was out of breath, “don’t stop.”

Your grin was tugging at your cheeks, even as your tongue swirled teasing circles around his flushed tip.

“Don’t stop or what?”

“Or I’ll make it to where you can’t walk tomorrow.”

It always impressed you how long he could hang on to his pride, even when his cock was begging, weeping for your mouth.

“Sounds more like a promise than a threat,” you mumbled before sinking a few inches of him into your wet mouth.

You moaned when you heard him whimper, cock so sensitive that your tight sucking had him so, so close to that edge of euphoria that he wanted to experience. You knew it was cruel, to toy with him for so long, but nothing was more delightful than hearing Porco let out unruly whines. You couldn’t even remember how long you’d been between his legs now, long enough to make your knees ache against the mattress and your lips to be a little numb.

He pushed your head down farther, hips thrusting upward so his cock could brush the back of your throat. You sunk your fingernails into the corded muscle of his thigh, attempting to settle him back down so you could keep edging him farther.

“Mhm, you feel so good baby, take my cock so fucking well.”

Your ears burned from the praise, head bobbing up and down, fat cock pressed snugly into your cheeks. But you were still slow, deliberate, dragging your tongue and your lips at just the right pace to keep him on just the brink of orgasm.

Saliva was spilling from your lips, coating his length and making it easier and easier to slip your mouth around him, to go down just a little farther each time.

His sounds were incessant, a mixture of heavy pants and trembling, high-pitched sobs. The sweet noises resonated directly between your legs; you felt slick drooling from your pussy, felt the muscles in your lower stomach clench.

He fisted your hair angrily when you slipped his cock back out of your mouth.

“No, no, no I’m so clo—”

“The walls are thin, Pock, you need to be quiet.”

His brows were furrowed over golden eyes as he watched you shift below him, back of your hand wiping away the mess from your mouth. He unwound his fingers from your hair as you climbed over his outstretched legs to stand next to his bed.

You gripped his chin, pressing your lips against his in a quick, greedy kiss that had him groaning at the taste of his cock lingering in your mouth. Fuck, his lips felt so good, plump and hot and so comfortably melding into the movements of your kiss, slanting and sucking and whimpering.

But you quickly replaced your lips with a thigh, letting his lips ghost along your skin as you settled your hips above his face. He locked his brawny arms around your legs, eager to bring your wet cunt to his mouth.

“Can’t have you waking up everyone in the barracks with your fucking whining,” but it was you who let out a soft mewl when his tongue lapped at your clit. Fuck, his face felt too good against the flesh of your thighs, lips and tongue hungry within your folds. Strong hands were bruising against your skin, pulling your weight farther down onto his face.

If only you could tell Marley that the true power of the jaw titan was that he could eat pussy until a girl went blind with pleasure.

You smoothed your hands over his broad chest, fingers sinking into the dips of hard muscle. Your head hung low as jolts of white-hot heat spread from where his mouth was working at you, playing with you, tongue painting long, broad strokes up and down your pussy. You always knew his smart mouth would be talented.

Your vision was blurring from all the bliss, but you still couldn’t take your eyes off his dripping cock, red and angry and still begging for release against the blonde, downy hair of his stomach. Sticky pre-cum was still leaking from his flushed head, pooling into his skin as his cock bobbed and twitched at the sounds of your moans. You were so tempted to touch him, to pull and tug and tease, but you knew it would drive him wild if you left him aching.

Your hips jerked and rolled from his ministrations, bursts of pleasure spreading over your nerves like hot, rippling webs beneath your skin. Then his tongue was pressing against your tight hole, gathering all your slick onto his tongue and drinking like a man parched.

“Oh, oh fuck,” you pressed your lips together, legs starting to tremble as his tongue thrusted up inside of you, “fuck, fuck, fuck that’s so good,” it was all a messy whisper, just hot air into the dimly lit room.

But then his tongue was back to soothing over your wet hole, lapping slowly and pulling you away from the churning coil within your belly.

“Please,” his voice was muffled by your cunt, lips moving against your folds, “p-please, suck my cock.”

His cock was twitching with every plea.

You doubled over in pleasure just from his words, the shock of him actually begging into your pussy making your mouth fall open with a satisfied moan.

Your fingers skimmed over his still spit-slick cock, body leaning forward so you could trace your tongue across the throbbing veins. He was still whining, whimpering from between your thighs, so fucking ready for the release you’d been denying him. And you were getting closer with every curl of his tongue, the tip of it fast and hurried as he licked against your clit. You felt like you were on fire and drowning all at the same time, lungs struggling to take in enough air before you plunged your mouth around his cock.

You didn’t hold back this time, cheeks hollowing as you sucked him in hard and fast, head bobbing and your palm wrapping around his base. You always loved how he tasted against your tongue, salty and sweet, even though his thickness led to a sore mouth in the morning.

The noises he was making were suppressed, being soaked up by your cunt. The vibrations from his mouth only added to your building delight, made your hips become more desperate. Continuous moans of your own spilled over his cock that was now stuffed deep into your throat.

Tears were pricking at your lashes, ready to dribble down the apples of your cheeks. Your hands were grasping onto his thighs for leverage and stability, trying to keep your mind focused on pleasing him even though his mouth was driving you mad.Your nose was buried in the blonde, wiry curls at the base of his cock, bumping against his skin, filling your senses with him, with Porco. A tumble of curses were soaked into your pussy, the hands on your thighs gripping meaner as you pulled back and repeatedly sucked him deep into your throat.

You were sure that all the slurping, wet sounds were even louder than his earlier whining.

You knew he was cumming by the weak cry against your pussy, his mouth pausing for a moment as euphoria washed over his body in curt waves.

“Ah-ah, fucking...finally...”

You let his cum slide down your throat, struggling to gulp the stringy substance down in its entirety to avoid a mess. Your mouth was full of the bittersweet taste of him, his cock pulsing and throbbing against your cheeks.

The moment his spent cock fell from your mouth, strands of drool still dripping from your lips, Porco was pulling you back, pulling your weight fully onto his face as he resumed devouring you.

Fuck, you felt like you were sinking, each purposeful lick against your pussy sending you deeper and deeper into a pleasant abyss. His tongue was far too skilled; he knew exactly how to lap and kiss at you to keep your body shaking and wanting, all his attention centered around the tight bundle of nerves that had your belly tightening.

“Porco, Porco, fuck I-I’m gonna—”

You felt your orgasm spill onto his cheeks as you found your own release, ecstasy blooming from where his mouth was still relentlessly licking between your folds. Your walls were clenching and unclenching, looking for the fat cock that should be filling your needy cunt. You felt your sanity momentarily slip away, mind and body overwhelmed with the feeling of him, the taste of him still present in your mouth. Then, you were falling, you chest pressing into his stomach and your nails scraping against his thighs.

A few moments passed as you caught your breath, sore thighs still trembling on either side of his face. Finally, you rolled next to him on the bed, one hand pressed between your breasts like you were trying to catch your racing heart.

“And here I thought we were supposed to be quiet,” he chuckled, grinning as he licked your slick from his lips.

“Oh shut up.”

He leaned forward, shoulders rolling as he maneuvered himself on top of you, mouth pressing against yours with a sloppy kiss.

“Didn’t hear you complaining when my tongue was in your cunt.”

“But I did hear you begging, Pock.”

Because you always got whatever you wanted from him, and the memory of Porco whining into your pussy was something that was sure to keep you awake a little longer at night.

#porco galliard #snk porco #porco #porco x reader #porco galliard x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #AoT #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #snk #aot porco #snk porco galliard

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years ago

Text

Dorne Part 2 - Boxer!Din AU

A/N: A cheeky birthday gift for my darling CiCi @astroboots I hope you have the most wonderful day, filled with laughter, love, lots of Riley cuddles and gifts galore! Thank you for being one of the most precious friends I've been lucky enough to meet and spend every day annoying, being a menace to, chatting with you and getting a glimpse into that beautiful brain of yours. Hope you enjoy it my love! I’m sorry it’s a bit of a mess asdfghj.

Word Count: 2.7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! MFF oral sex (female receiving).

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist | Dorne Part 1

“I wanna see if she’s as greedy for pussy too, baby—”

“Mm, you’re just full of good ideas today, sweetheart.”

You preened under his praise, ass pressing back in a feline arch where he bunched your dress up. Your guest was still busy on her knees—dutifully lapping at his cock while he pressed an indulgent kiss beneath your jaw, inhaling the perfume you favored and the musky—primal scent of arousal that clung to your flushed skin. He nosed along the line of your jaw, your fingers carding through his hair, completely lost in each other as he found your mouth again—a low groan lost along your tongue when the woman hollowed her cheeks around his sensitive head.

“First… I wanna see how greedy you are for pussy.”

The low lights cast shadows across your features, but the way your eyes darkened—pupils dilated and ringed with kohl and mascara—ritual paint for a sacrifice to a heathen god—had him snarling at the worship you and your companion lay against his body. He swallowed thickly at the striking smirk that morphed on painted lips, grazing his mouth but avoiding a kiss as you dragged them down the exposed length of his torso.

The length of your dress shifted like water—deceived his lust addled eyes to appear like the wily, tempting swish of a fox’s tail as you slinked down his body to stroke your fingers through the other woman’s hair.

You purred something into her ear – secret and alluring – a siren call that darkened her gaze as she turned away from his cock, fist slowly stroking him as you tempted her to stand with your mouth on hers, tongue stroking into her mouth as you rose. She was helpless to resist – fuck how could she – the way your eyes indulged in her bountiful curves and striking silhouette highlighted by a silver dress that ended up in a pool on the floor when you pulled the straps down and let gravity do the rest.

“No underwear?” you hummed as you circled the woman gracefully, and while your guest was naked and breath-taking, his eyes were just as easily pulled to your form as your legs extended with each step in an effortless prowl, without the bolstered force of a male—but softer, deadlier. A lioness—a hunter. His.

Fuck—

You made him sit—made him wait. And fuck, he indulged your little power play—it was enticing, for now. That’s what he told himself as he watched the scene unfurl before his eyes.

The noises you were able to drag out of your guest were filthy as she lay sprawled like a decadent buffet on the oversized ottoman – the quilted velvet easily the size of a king sized bed where it sat under the dark light in the center of the room – and was his sponsors ingenious way of getting around the ‘no bed’ situation in Dorne. Din couldn’t count the number of times he had to stop himself from gripping his cock to stroke some relief as your tongue delved expertly between her folds.

His fingers curled into his thigh, one hand massaging his balls distractedly as his lips twisted into a snarl.

The raven haired beauty – curls chaotic and wild fanning around her head – arched with a graceful bend in her spine. A dancer. Din mused as a licorice black melted into whiskey orbs—filling them with need as rich as his appetite for sex. They dropped to your hand pressing into the supple, toned flesh of her thigh to spread her legs wider. All part of the show… giving him a perfect view of the glistening slick gathering between puffy lips you were holding open with your other hand to flick your tongue over her hooded clit and curl up to gather that arousal on it.

“Mm… baby—she tastes so good…”

You were on your knees on the ottoman—down on your elbows with your ass in the air for him to watch the barely-there strip of fabric you called underwear darken with your own desire, gorgeous thighs accentuated by the suspenders that made up that fucking sinful lingerie set he had bought for you.

Fuck you were gorgeous… pink tongue that had lapped at his cock earlier now dripping saliva onto the pretty pussy of your guest, fingers smearing it into her slick with quick rubs over her clit and slit—making her cry with the pleasure as wetness leaked from her cunt and into your mouth. He could feel his muscles hum, a tense film of pressure running along his nerves and making him need to move. To stalk over there and take what as his. Waiting only made his neck strain with the growl he directed at the ceiling and your mischievous giggle incite a feral snarl in return.

“Come taste,” you looked over your shoulder, lips shiny and swollen from where he had ravaged your mouth—eyes weaving a spell over him, and he was helpless to resist you. He shot up, a bullet—a bull towards the cape as you refused to break eye contact when you kissed her navel, beckoning him over.

He was parched.

And your mouth was the first thing he needed. Hand moulding over the curve of your ass to dip along that strip of fabric between your cheeks, he pressed his fingers against your slick pussy lips from over your underwear and devoured your mouth. Groaning at the combined taste of your natural essence and the sweet tang of your guest, an accented aroma that brought you both to a frenzied high as his tongue greedily pillaged every drop.

The dancer – he decided she must have been – keened as he lost himself in your mouth, pulling his attention down to her naked form. He moaned with a feral lace of pride as he saw your fingers disappearing into her cunt with long, teasing strokes—your mouth finding his neck as he watched. Eyes only falling shut when you bit him. Bit him so hard his cock twitched violently—a silent claim in this hedonistic indulgence.

Mine.

The mark said.

Fuck, you were perfect. He gripped your jaw from where you were worrying a trail of marks into his flesh to kiss you hard,

“Back to work,” he growled.

And just like that, the dynamic shifted—an easy dominance he knew you weren’t strong enough to resist. Not when it was him. You might dominate your guest, but you would submit to him.

Challenge flared in those orbs, the woman on the ottoman gasping your name when your disobedience, your defiance showed itself in a third finger inside her dripping cunt—a hard swipe across her clit. Retaliating. He led your head down, back between her legs, and you followed—caught off guard when his free hand tugged your panties to the side to give your pussy a series of quick slaps.

You were drenched.

Slap slap slapslapslap—you mewled into her pussy, sucking her clit into your mouth as you fingered her—his own fingers grazing your neglected clit and making you push your ass back against him. He dropped to his elbow beside the dancer – Ally? Abby? Still no clue – and dropped his mouth to one of the peaked tips of her breasts. They were begging for attention, crowned in the glisten of his saliva as his tongue circled one, then the other—graveled growls soft and honey sweet against her skin while he stroked your hair.

“Talented, isn’t she? That tongue is a sin—”

“So greedy for my girl’s tongue…”

“Why don’t you beg for mine?”

And she did.

She begged. Begged for your tongue—begged for his, begged for you both. You glanced up her body, a landscape of willowy curves and heaving breasts as warbled pleas spilled from those pretty lips. You withdrew your fingers – she sobbed – to paint that body as you moved up it and Din took your place. Streaks of sticky slick stained her skin in the journey your fingers took up her toned stomach and between her breasts. You caught her whimpers with your mouth when Din’s tongue dragged a long swipe along her cunt, his facial hair sanding against soft skin and making her spasm under his tongue at the mixture of sensations. So different to the softness of your body.

He growled into her wet heat when she managed to pull your breasts from over the top of your bra, a pert nipple swallowed into her mouth when you leaned up enough to let her play. Giving him a sinners view of your wet cunt and rapturous expression when your head fell back between your shoulders as you leaned over her face, letting her ravish your tits and make moans spill wantonly from your lips.

It drove him wild, and he channeled it all into devouring her pussy with rapt dedication.

“Open,” he snarled when her legs tried to close around his head—her gasp of pleasure muffled around your breast when he forced even more juices from her as two thick digits speared her entrance. You keened, arching your back as you held her head to your breast, grinding your hips back in some desperate attempt to find relief. Relief your guest gave you with her fingers between your legs, rubbing over your clit in frantic swipes over your underwear.

“Din,” you panted, and he was delirious.

Drunk on the taste of you both, drunk on the fact that even receiving pleasure from another—it was his name you moaned. He wanted to take you right then and there, but fair was fair.

Your guest sobbed when he pulled away—cunt clenching where his fingers once were and the orgasm that had been cresting ebbed with a rock of her hips as she chased it. You dropped a kiss to her cheek, soothing her cries for release as you cupped her jaw to swallow them.

Din watched your hand slither down to her cunt once more, fingers splitting around her clit lazily while he shed the open shirt he still had on, kicking his pants off while he was at it.

“Up here, sweetheart—” he commanded once he was free, heavy cock in hand when he settled down on the ottoman. He smirked at the cogs turning in your head—shown in the glint of curiosity in those gorgeous eyes before you crawled into his lap to cup his cheeks. You cleaned his face of the other woman’s essence with kitten licks and languid kisses, and he almost lost himself in you—almost. He turned you with a guiding hand to your shoulders, your back to his chest while he nudged your temple with a growl, “gorgeous… so fucking gorgeous—”

You wriggled slightly – poor thing… untouched, desperate for relief – and he hooked your legs over his, spreading your thighs wide for the dancer to see how wet you were—her dark eyes turning obsidian as she crawled on all fours between your legs, kissing you indulgently and then him.

“Make my girl feel good, then you can cum,” he purred against her mouth, turning to press a kiss into your temple when you whimpered, your hand having dropped to stroke over your clothed clit.

He pulled it away – behave, baby – and you whined into his mouth as you turned your face up to kiss him, whispering against his mouth in nonsensical strings of babble—asking for more, please please please Din.

The woman watched you in awe, the control you had over her melting to willing submission as you kissed his scruffy jaw with wet licks.

The temptation to just fuck you right there and then—to turn you over and mount you roared in his mind with a territorial claim. Your pleas whispered so softly into his skin, he ached to fill you—to turn those pleas into cries of bliss as he sank his cock into you. Not yet. He wanted to see you come undone on another’s tongue as he directed them. The indirect pleasure he would give you—it was impossible to resist.

He pulled your panties to the side again as the woman kissed up your thighs, across your navel – that’s it… tease her – and the air on your cunt – soaked with desire – made you bite your lip, eyes fluttering closed when her wet breath fell onto it.

“Spead her open for me—” Din hummed, revelling in the wet squelch of them against her fingers as she opened you wide, her eyes full of hunger and her tongue flicking out across her lips. They lifted to him, her thighs rubbing together from where her own naked cunt was exposed and wanting as she waited, nuzzling her nose into the seam of your thigh—the trembling clench of your pussy finally making him show you some mercy.

The image of another woman’s face buried in your cunt when he finally allowed her to slake her hunger for your arousal made him feel more powerful than any victory in the ring, any bowed submission by bolstered masculinity from unworthy adversaries. It was an incomparable lust—to see you pleasured this way—framed by his body, the tongue between your folds under his command, and the both of you eager to please him—to please each other. Masculine pride that didn’t need overbearing territoriality, but a guiding hand and the trust you both put in him. That is what made his cock leak and twitch against your back.

“Avoid her clit—”

You whimpered.

“Two fingers in that needy cunt… listen to how soaked you are baby—”

She fingered you diligently, slender digits echoing the patterns he knew would have you crying—have you squirming had he not kept you prisoner against his chest—patterns he dictated. A swipe to your clit by her thumb, a mercy on her part—and he snarled a warning down at her.

“Slower, slower—she likes to be edged, don’t you, sweetheart?”

His arms kept you at his mercy, your body open and wanting as the siren between your legs slurped and sucked and spread your wetness—had you quivering under her tongue. He could hear it. The wet drags—you always got so wet, and the velvet soaked beneath you only proved the fact. Her tongue circled your clit, dropped down to prod your entrance on his command. You knew it—that was why your pleas were directed to him, your nose buried into his cheek as you babbled incoherently – touch me, touch me please – your fingers clawing at the back of his neck.

“I am touching you—” he muttered as he ghosted his lips across the arch of your neck that lay in vulnerable deference against his shoulder—hands tweaking pebbled nipples after he had unhooked the front of your bra, rolling them in coarse fingers before he gave one of them a quick slap, “what do you want, baby?”

You rutted your hips down to push your cunt further into the dancer’s mouth, her moans of approval making you sob at the vibrations, the dual clash of soft wet tongue and rough dry hands on your breasts. He snarled a command to suck your clit—the woman’s fathomless gaze meeting his as her ruby lips wrapped around that pretty little bundle of nerves to make you bow up out of his lap, your hands gripping her curls to claw her closer with a litany of curses and fuck fuck yes—yes more more more—

“Stop.”

Your sob was heartbroken as your orgasm slipped from your grasp – wind through the pampas grass – and you turned, his hand tangled in your guest’s hair to yank her back, and you dropped to engulf his cock in your mouth. It made him choke—made him forget for just a moment as his head fell back and a guttural moan dropped from his mouth in encouragement.

Din dragged the woman up as you sucked him off—kissing your essence right off her with long licks and plundering swipes into her mouth, his hips lifting to push himself deeper down your throat as it convulsed around his girth with a gag.

“I make you both cum, understand?” he growled—smirking when you both nodded deliriously—you with a messy mouth and stroking the length of his cock as it rested against your cheek, and her pussy drunk delirium fogging her gaze.

“Good girls…”

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Some moots who might enjoy: @highsviolets @krissology @charnelhouse @thepoisonofgod @uncle-kenobi

#happy birthday cici!#boxer!din #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #mando #the mandalorian smut #din djain fanfic #star wars #the mandalorian fanfic #pedro pascal

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

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Better Than Imagination

Pairing: Aoba Johsai x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, PWP, Gangbang, This is just pure filth and self-indulgent, Also maybe kind of fluff and smut? Well, as fluffy as a gangbang could possibly be.

Summary: The Seijoh boys find out at a team reunion that their ex-manager has never done anything physical before and they plan on changing that.

Requested by Anon

You’re all sitting around Iwaizumi’s living room, catching up since it’s one of the few times that the whole team is around and honestly, if it weren’t for how much older everyone looks, it really feels like old times. You’re sandwiched on the couch between Oikawa and Hanamaki and both the social butterflies are talking your ears off, but you don’t mind. It’s nice to see Oikawa happy and if you’re being honest, you missed him. Now that he’s officially a citizen of Argentina, it’s very rare to see the charismatic brunette in person. You take a quick look around and you chuckle when you see Iwaizumi and Kyoutani in the middle of their seventh arm wrestling match with Matsukawa acting as referee, Watari and Kindaichi cheering them on, and Yahaba and Kunimi lazily sitting back and watching.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Startled, you turn to look at Hanamaki. “Where’s this question coming from all of a sudden? But no, I don’t.” Oikawa blinks rapidly at you. “Eh??? You still don’t have a boyfriend? Have you ever dated since high school? You weren’t dating anyone back then either.” You flush as they interrogate you and you shyly confirm that you’ve never dated anyone yet. It never felt like the right time to start dating and you just hadn’t ever found anyone who interested you enough to even try. You miss the exchanging of looks above your head, but suddenly Matsukawa is seated on the floor right in front of you and innocently asks, “So, have you at least kissed or hooked up?”. You screech as you try to kick the tall male, but he just laughs as he catches your ankle before you can make contact. “Mattsun, you don’t just ask a girl a question like that! Especially not in front of other people!”

Your face bright red, you turn to look at the rest of the room and your face heats up even more when you see all your juniors and Iwaizumi blushing and staring at you. “Well? Well? Well?” You groan as Oikawa and Hanamaki insistently pester you, intent on getting an answer out of you. Might as well put an end to this before it gets drawn out any longer. “No! No. I haven’t done anything. Forget hookups. I haven’t even kissed or held hands with anyone yet. Now can we all please just move on from this topic?” You’re ready to spit out a random sentence to get another conversation rolling when hands grip your shoulders and suddenly something softly presses against your lips. You stiffen at the foreign feeling, but Oikawa’s lips are so smooth and so gentle and your eyelids flutter close as you sink into your first kiss. Your body unconsciously moves to get closer to the delicious source and before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re completely in his lap as the two of you continue locking lips. You finally pull away to gasp for breath, but when your actions finally register in your mind, you bury your head in Oikawa’s neck in embarrassment.

You feel Oikawa’s head get smacked and hear Iwaizumi scolding him for kissing you without your permission before a gentle grip on your chin forces you to look up from your hiding space. “But Iwa-chan, she liked it! You liked it, right?” You lightly smack his chest, but you nod. “Not bad for a first kiss,” you tease. Chocolate brown eyes darken at your words, but suddenly Hanamaki shoves his face in your line of vision and with his trademark smile he says, “We can be all your firsts right now if you want”. Your mind short circuits at the implication behind his words and you sit there in silence with your mouth gaping at him, but you gasp as you feel a mouth kiss and suck along your neck and collarbone. Would it be so bad to have this group of men who’ve you known for so long and stood besides for so long be your many firsts? Maybe it’s the genuine affection you see in Hanamaki’s eyes, maybe it’s the intoxicating feeling of Oikawa marking your neck, or maybe it’s the soothing stroke of Matsukawa’s hand in your hair, but you let out a shaky “okay” and they all smile at you.

Oikawa wastes no time in removing your shirt and bra and you moan as his fingers playfully tug and twist your nipples. Matsukawa makes a move towards you, but Iwaizumi nudges him away from you. “You’re going last. It’s her first time. You’re going to fucking kill her with your horse dick if you go first.” Matsukawa grumbles something about Iwaizumi just being jealous, but he begrudgingly listens and sits back down, palming himself through his pants. Hanamaki whispers praises into your ear about how beautiful you sound and how gorgeous you look as he removes your pants and underwear. Oikawa and him rearrange yourselves until Hanamaki is lying on the couch, your thighs on either side of his head and Oikawa is seated on the couch in front of you, still lavishing his attention on your sensitive neck and hardening nipples. Your hands clutch tightly to Oikawa’s shoulders as Hanamaki firmly grabs your thighs and pulls you down until his nose brushes against your clit. You moan as his mouth earnestly sucks your outer lips and his tongue dives deep inside of you while his nose continuously grazes your clit. You’ve played with yourself before, but nothing’s felt like this and your eyes roll back as he twists his tongue within you while Oikawa sucks on your nipples. It’s too much and you can feel yourself about to cum, so you try to move away from Hanamaki’s mouth, but he holds you fast and Oikawa roughly kisses you, shoving his tongue deep inside you as Hanamaki sucks on your clit. Your body tenses and you wail as your body convulses, but Oikawa swallows your cries with his mouth and you fall limp in his arms.

Oikawa gently lays your torso on the couch as Hanamaki slips out from beneath you and you flush when you turn around and see his face slick with your juices. Your hips are still in the air from your previous position and Hanamaki uses that to his advantage as he strips out of his clothes and places one hand on your hip, while the other slowly begins guiding his cock into your glistening cunt. The stretch is uncomfortable, but you’re grateful for how wet you are from your orgasm and with Hanamaki’s patience and Oikawa’s encouragement, he finally bottoms out within you and you both groan as you adjust. He slowly thrusts in and out of you and you wince at first, unused to the feeling of something so big moving in and out of you, but Oikawa holds your hand and gently kisses you until the strange feeling turns into pleasure and you begin moaning as Hanamaki’s thrusts become deeper and stronger. You watch with hazy eyes as Oikawa removes his pants and you drool at the sight of his cock, so pretty and dripping with pre-cum.

Oikawa feels his cock twitch at the sight of you licking your lips at the sight of his length and he moves until his tip is brushing against your lips and his head rolls back when you start peppering his shaft with kitten licks and kisses. He gently nudges your mouth open and you obediently begin sucking as much as you can fit in your tight mouth and Oikawa assists you by fisting the parts you can’t reach. It feels so overwhelming in the best way to be filled on both ends and you moan as Hanamaki digs his hands even harder into your hips as he thrusts balls deep inside of you. The vibrations from your mouth and the sight of your face lost in pleasure tip Oikawa over the edge first and he can’t help himself from pulling out and painting your innocent face white. Hanamaki reaches a hand down to furiously rub your clit as he feels his own release coming and when you reach your peak a second time and your pussy clenches around him, he pulls out and leaves sticky white strands all over your lower back.

Exhausted, you let your entire body slump flat on the couch, but a firm hand gently lifts your head up and you stare into Oikawa’s gleaming eyes. “Now, now, we aren’t done yet. It wouldn’t be fair to leave the rest of the team high and dry now would it? Doesn’t a good manager take care of everyone?” You hazily blink before turning your head and your mouth goes dry as you see the rest of your old team all stripped down and stroking or palming their erect cocks. You nervously gulp and sensing your hesitation, Iwaizumi steps forward and crouches down until he’s eye to eye with you before softly smiling and assuring you that you don’t need to do anything, but a mix of pride and lust has you determinedly staring at the remaining boys and urging them forward.

Kyoutani lunges forward and you scream as he fully sheathes himself inside in one swift motion. It hurts, but he’s filling you so well that you don’t know if your cries are from pain or pleasure as he continues his brutal pace. He doesn’t even bother to lift your hips, instead laying his entire body over yours as he ruts into your prone figure sprawled on the couch. You squeal as he harshly bites you in the junction of your neck and shoulder, but the pain of his teeth almost tearing through your skin fuels the burning desire within you and you can already feel another peak coming. You wail as his brutal pace gets even rougher and you almost sob in relief when Yahaba steps in to yell at him to ease up a bit. Kyoutani grunts in annoyance, but he removes his teeth from you and slows his pace a bit and you gratefully look up at Yahaba who now sits in front of you. You eagerly take his cock in your mouth, intoxicated by the feeling of being double stuffed, and the three of you continue until Yahaba is filling your throat with his seed. A depraved pride rises within you as he opens your mouth and calls you such a good girl for swallowing everything he gave you before cheekily ruffling your hair. He moves down to where Kyoutani is still plowing into you and he circles your clit as Kyoutani’s hips begin to stutter and you feel your pussy walls spasm as you orgasm again, Kyoutani following soon after and releasing deep inside of you.

You think you might just pass out. Your body aches and pleasure and exhaustion make your limbs feel like bricks. But you manage to open your eyes when you hear footsteps right beside you. Kindaichi’s face is as red as a tomato and Watari isn’t faring much better. Kunimi trails a little behind the two, but if how red and swollen his cock is is any indication, he’s also not immune to the heady lust filling the room. Watari at least has the decency to look worriedly down at you and ask you if you’re really okay to keep on going and you almost take the easy way out, but your heart warms at the sight of Kindaichi and Kunimi looking at you with so much concern (and let’s be honest, you’d always had a soft spot in your heart for your youngest kouhais) that you smile at them and tell them it’s fine. You try to get up, but you instantly collapse back down, your arms and legs feeling like jelly.

Matsukawa hums thoughtfully. “She’s not going to last much longer. Think you can try taking all three of them at the same time?” Confused about how that would even work, you look at the curly haired man who just smiles wickedly back at you. Suddenly you feel a finger begin to tenderly circle an area that makes you squeal. “Mattsun, stop it! That’s so dirty!” He just hushes at you as something slippery is poured all over your puckered hole. “We said we’d be all your firsts didn’t we?” Watari cradles your head in his lap and holds your hand as you wince at the discomfort and pain of Mattsun slowly stretching your ass, but thankfully the pain dissipates and it doesn’t necessarily feel good, but you feel comfortably full as he works three fingers in and out of you. Deeming you sufficiently prepped, he ushers for Kindaichi to sit on the couch before picking up your body like it weighs nothing and gingerly holding your lubed hole over Kindaichi’s dick. With Kindaichi’s help, he slowly lowers you down inch by inch until you’re finally all the way down and sitting in Kindaichi’s lap. You pant heavily as your body adjusts to being stretched in an area you’ve never even touched yourself and you’re thankful to be able to just lay back and lean on Kindaichi.

Kunimi hesitantly stands in front of you and you feel him slowly work himself into your aching cunt. You're thankful for his slow pace and self-control as he carefully watches you to make sure you aren’t in pain and it takes some time, but finally the three of you stay still as they let you get used to being stretched so much farther than you ever thought was possible. Kunimi starts slowly moving first and you moan at how you can feel every inch of him sliding in and out of you now that your pussy is even tighter than before and you lose yourself so much in the feelings that you begin to rock your hips which makes Kindaichi groan and start jutting his hips to match your pace. Matsukawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Oikawa stare at you, so turned on by the image of their innocent ex-manager being so lewd as you shake your hips and wantonly moan. Watari finally joins in and he stands with his foot planted on either side of Kindaichi as he pushes his cock into your drooling mouth and the four oldest boys think they could cum from just the sight of you with all your holes stuffed. Kunimi finishes first and he pulls out and releases all over your stomach before kneeling down and sucking your clit. You wail at the stimulation and soon you’re clenching around Kindaichi as you climax yet again, although there’s now pain laced with the pleasure as overstimulation begins to set in. Kindaichi groans at the feeling of your already tight hole further squeezing him and with a grunt he spills his seed inside you and lies back as Watari chases his end. You moan as bitter warm fluid fills your mouth and you try to swallow, but you’re so tired and sticky white liquid seeps out of your mouth, mixing with the drool trickling down both sides of your mouth and pooling in a sloppy mess on your chest. Kindaichi carefully lifts you off of him and you whimper at the feeling of his cum sliding out of you as he gingerly lays you on your back.

Your eyes close and you think you could fall asleep right there and then, but a gentle hand cradles your cheek and you hear Matsukawa’s low voice in your ear. “Stay awake a little longer, baby girl. Don’t worry. Iwaizumi and I will do all the work for you. You just let us make you feel good, okay? Be a good girl for us.” His words send a jolt of arousal through you. A good girl? Yeah, you could be a good girl for them. You want to be a good girl for them. You forcefully blink the drowsiness from your eyes as Matsukawa and Iwaizumi lift your body between them, Matsukawa’s arms laced underneath your thighs and Iwaizumi’s hands firmly holding your waist. You feel so warm, so safe squeezed between the two of them and you let your arms go limp by your sides as you lay your head back on Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Matsukawa begins to push in and at first it’s fine. After being fucked so many times, you’re not worried, but you whimper as his girth stretches you far further than anyone else and it’s only Iwaizumi’s voice in your ear urging you to relax and breathe that stops you from panicking. You close your eyes and escape in Iwaizumi’s calming voice as Matsukawa continues pushing and pushing and you wonder if it’s ever going to end. How big was he? But finally, just when you’re about to beg him to stop, feeling so stuffed you’re sure his tip is pressing into your cervix, you feel him bottom out. The boys hold you there for a bit and Iwaizumi murmurs sweet comforting words in your ear while Matsukawa gently kisses you and only when your body fully relaxes does Iwaizumi carefully enter your loosened ass. They stay true to their words and you just lay there as they both begin to thrust into you. You barely recognize the needy voice filling the room as yours and you let your eyes close as you drown in the shattering pleasure that overtakes you. You sob in pained pleasure as Iwaizumi reaches from behind you to rub your sensitive clit and it takes an embarrassingly short time for you to fall apart in their arms, your body twitching and tightening as you reach another peak. You let out broken cry after cry as the two continue to ravage your body, but soon enough you feel the stuttering of hips and uneven strokes and they hold you tight as they both release inside you.

Thoroughly spent, you let them lay you back down on the couch and you don’t even have the energy to feel embarrassed as the nine men who’d just filled every hole and covered your body with cum stand and sit around you, all of them unabashedly staring at the mess they made of you. Heat does flare in your face when Oikawa spreads your legs apart and examines the white liquid seeping out of both your holes and you whine at him to stop when his long fingers attempt to push the sticky fluids back into you. You glare at Hanamaki and Matsukawa who wolf whistle at you, but they just laugh when you tell them to go fuck off. Mortified, you cover your face with your hands as Oikawa goes on a whole excited rant about how dirty and corrupted they made their cute manager-chan and you almost punch Matsukawa in the face when he says they probably ruined you for anyone else, so you should just become the team’s cum bucket. But you smile when Iwaizumi knocks them both on the head until they shut up and you cuddle into Hanamaki’s embrace as he wipes down your body with a wet cloth one of the younger boys had fetched. This wasn’t how you imagined any of your sexual firsts from happening, but as you close your eyes and let yourself finally succumb to exhaustion, you can’t help but think this was better than anything you could have imagined.

#haikyuu smut #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsukawa x reader #kyoutani x reader #yahaba x reader #watari x reader #kindaichi x reader #kunimi x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #haikyuu writing #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

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littlefreya · 4 years ago

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Penny Dreadful

Summary: Sherlock is cold, troubled and upset, his mind is fixed on cracking an unsolved murder. It’s the worst time to disturb him. But his hot-blooded little succubus wants to drag him into sin.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (First-person POV)

Word count: 2.5K

Warning: 18+, smut, teasing, bratty behaviour, ass-smacking with a cane, slight cane play, primal play, unprotected rough sex, biting, slight size kink, MaleDom, drug use. Lots of curly hair descriptions.

A/N: Not canon to books Sherlock, obviously, but seeing the photos and teaser Henry as Sherlock just sets up the vibe. So I had to. Many thanks to my beta @agniavateira !! Sorry for the ugly cover art :D.

Title: Penny Dreadful

Sherlock’s study was a bleak, musky chamber deprived of heat, notwithstanding the many candles that burnt at every corner. Perhaps it was the pristine heaps of snow that piled on the ledge of the window, or maybe it was his sullen mood that gave the room a sense of icy wilderness.

Fumes rose from his mouth, vaping into the air. The tawny light kissed his thick mane of luscious, chocolate curls while he stood at the fore of his desk and leered at some parchments that troubled his brilliant mind for whatever reason.

Fist seizing the golden tip of his cane, his thumb stroked the engravings that embellished the metal. Cases that he couldn’t crack often left him frustrated to the point of madness. Those wicked, sly obsessions made him even more irresistible.

My nails bit into the wooden doorframe. Consumed by yearning, a blaze licked up my soul with its monstrous tongue. I often wondered how something so pure as love could be dangerous, to which Sherlock would reply,

“Love is the greatest villain of them all.”

Unlike him, I didn’t care for evil.

The detective unclipped the small chain he kept fastened to his vest and opened the silver locket, gathering a wisp of white powder on the tip of his pinky finger and pressed it to his nostrils. A small grunt escaped him, his eyes turning glassy. The “fairy dust” tended to sharpen his perception and elevate his stamina.

I dropped to my knees at his sight, crawling on the floor. The black silks of my dress made a brushing noise as it dragged on the Persian carpet; my breasts peeked as my corset shifted with every move. Sherlock often said we must imagine ourselves as animals once we let desire play our strings.

Accepting my inner wildness, tonight I was a cougar stalking her prey.

By nature, his senses were sharp as blades, though the substance that streamed through his veins made a more heightened grip of the reality that surrounded him. He noticed and yet ignored me, letting his hot-blooded harlot crave for his attention.

If I was to be the feline predator, Sherlock was the hunter who pursued me for sport. An unfair game, yet nevertheless my favourite.

Bathing in my own little fountain of mischief, I allowed my fingers to sneak toward his cane, brushing up and down the mahogany in slow, languid motion. My slender digits licked along the shaft and my bosom followed, pressing against the hardwood. I dragged myself up slightly to glimpse at my master from below: my Sherlock, always a sight for a famished girl; a colossus, intimidating, and breathtaking. Like a moth to a flame, I inched closer dazed by the light, wanting to bask in its radiance.

The muscle in his cheek tensed, thick brows furrowing. A little squared wrinkle appeared above the bridge of his nose as he brushed through his dark locks with agitation.

“What ills that glorious mind of yours?” I hummed, playful fingertips climbing further up at the length of his cane.

“Something I can’t grasp,” he spat, not giving me the time of day. But I knew he noticed every detail of my wanton behaviour, it was evident by the way his breath swiftly became heavier. Sherlock might have solved crimes by profession, but all women were natural detectives; evolution granted us with a definite survival instinct, learning to read men between the shadows.

“You can possess me,” I offered, fingers scraping over his thumb as it pressed onto the cane’s golden tip. My voice dropped to a whisper while my hand left the cane in favour of his thigh. The muscle flexed and twitched under my sinful touch, the fabric of his breeches stretched as his cock grew with its natural need to fulfil the wet, convulsing void in me.

“You’re distracting me,” he warned, voice low and stern. His lashes hardly even fluttered to my direction.

Every delicate little hair stood up at the sound of alarm yet instead, I inhaled the soot of peril, allowing my hand to travel further and meet his hungry girth. It rose to my touch with gratitude, flinching even harder at the clutch of my claws. The flavour of desire was honey and salt on the tip of my tongue.

The low animalistic vibration of his voice wavered through his solid form. I felt it shudder all the way down to his swelling cock. A cautious man, Sherlock was measured and forbearing to a point that made me wonder if he even liked women at all before we fell into the vicious pit of decadence and violent delights.

It was the contrary that was true: Sherlock loved women very much, his desires were simply… of a certain quality.

His groin was warm and firm against my cheek. The crystalline-blue glare finally graced me with a sight so brooding my bones clattered.

“Later, I need to work.” By the drop of his voice, I knew there won’t be a third warning.

“Later, Later…” I taunted, rolling my chin over his aching need. “All work and no play…”

The gasp that pushed out of my lungs nearly whisked the candles off as Sherlock hauled me up by his hand and bent me over the desk.

“Should I teach you how to respect my time?” He snarled, throwing the skirts of my dress over my head like a cape of the midnight sky. Stars collapsed under my skin at the sensation of his touch exploring the curve of my bare ass. Talons ruptured the tiny blood vessels, squeezing with the affirmation of his ownership.

“No undergarments?” Sherlock growled dangerously while his thumb brushed over my silken entrance, toying with the rich elixir and smearing it further down my anticipating petals. I answered with a deep moan, stretching on this desk with a succumbing plea.

“You came here aimed at disturbing me while I work.”

Settling onto the surface of the desk, I reached forth one arm lazily and chuckled. “You are a great detective, I… oh!”

Something cold and solid caressed my dripping lips, driving between them in slow, calculated strokes. Throwing my head over my shoulder, I noticed Sherlock holding his cane against my sacred cove, staring at it as if I was yet another piece of evidence to be explored. The golden arched-tip pushed-slightly between my petals and entered just enough to make me hiss. For a mere second I wondered if he was going to fuck me using nothing but his cane.

“Look away; this is going to hurt.”

I hardly had time to protest when the first smack hit the pillow of my cheek. A wheeze of disgrace shot from my throat, husky and embarrassing, but not as degrading as the sting the metal left at my burning backside.

“Bad girl,” Sherlock ticked his tongue and lifted the cane midway in the air, a flare of noxious desire bursting in his pale-blue orbs. This time I turned away and shut my eyes, gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned dead-white. If only it did anything to dull the pain, the sting was even more prominent, shooting all the way up to my spine where it coiled and forced a strident yip from my clamped lips.

Yet the throb in my cunt was unmissable.

Sherlock knew very well that the hurt allied with pleasure, enhancing it even, like his powdery magic dust.

Another smack and my nails scratched at the wood. Like a sinner nun indulging her own beating, I rode the waves of pain as they broke onto shores abundant with pleasure. There were hidden cracks in our public figure, the place where I burnt and Sherlock ascended as we pried our claws into mortal deadly sins. My senses rose to conflict with every smack and Sherlock took joy in every involuntary squirm of my body.

Tongue pressed between his lips, he hummed as he admired his handiwork, painting my ass in obscene hues of violence. “Had enough? Or want to see which will break first, the rod or your arrogance?” Sherlock chided and pinched my sore cheek to further increase the pain.

Embers whispered beneath my flesh, my legs jolted from the intense beating and by god, the trickle of my juices rolling down the back of my thighs made even a sultry woman such as myself drown in white shame.

Sherlock’s breath was a heavy guttural waft. His cane dropped to the floor and I heard the sound of metal clicking as he fumbled with his belt. I would be damned if I let him fuck me from behind. To have those eyes look away as he entered me was a vice I wouldn’t stand.

“No!” I yelled, bracing on my wobbly elbows as much as I could and turned to face him.

Sherlock’s glare widened, a chill of ice blew through his eyes and his pupils dilated like a crazed feline. “You’re saying no to me?”

“Yes!” I heaved and reached my hands to cradle his skull, pushing myself against the hardness of his body and forcing my lips on his. My kiss was feral, bruising the plush skin on and around his mouth, nibbling and biting until we tasted iron on our tongues. It was not long before I was shoved against the wall, our mouths still united, sharing one breath.

Or rather stealing it from one another.

We were pleasingly unequal. Sherlock was all iron and stone; a bulky, tall man who could tear me apart with his bare hands. I was a little lush thing, so tender, so easily bruised. Despite his power, the desire to claim the tiny wet hole between my legs was unquenchable, reducing him to a savage thing that spoke in raw inarticulate sounds.

He tore his mouth from mine and swept me up from the ground, hiking the skirts of my dress urgently to expose what he coveted the most. I felt the supple velvety texture of his hardness grind against my thigh, smearing the pearly drops of his arousal onto my skin. We both moaned at the sensation and moved to the rhythm dictated by our most primal instincts.

“You want my cock?” He growled and gnawed his teeth at my neck, biting deep enough to break through the skin. I whined in pain, my voice rising a pitch as I writhed against him to ignite the smallest of frictions and serve the demon of desire in me.

“Fuck me!” I begged, sliding my fingers through the mass of soft curls and tugging them with need.

Answering my plea, Sherlock speared into my unruly cunt, brutally spreading me open like he would tear the petals from a flower. I yipped into his luscious hair, my nails tearing into his nape as his intrusion claimed everything my body had to offer. I always found it odd how my flesh would resist and beg for him at the same time, my succulent canal fighting to push him by instinct yet he only further rutted into me. He reached his hands to my sore ass to squeeze my cheeks apart.

“Such a tight little harlot,” he groaned, engulfed by my garden of mysteries. Moaning so loudly, our duet reverberated through the corridors of the house. His lashes fluttered with ecstasy as he pulled back only to force me down on his imposing cock, attempting to rip through my denial. Or it was to tame me as I clenched around his girth, accepting and resisting him at the same time. I was nothing but a vessel for him to fill, and he did so with a fiery passion, glaring straight to my eyes while thrusting deep and hard into me.

Books fell from the shelves nearby as we battled against the wall, my legs sliding up and down his waist, spreading helplessly in the air until my boots pressed into his arse. One of his hands reached for my corset, tugging on the ludicrous outfit to expose my breast. Ravenous, he licked his bloodstained lips, giving me a stare that made my cunt clutch him harder before he sank his fangs to pierce cavities in my tit.

“No!!!” I cried out and gasped as he thrust deeper to punish me for my protest. His heavy cock hit a spot so deep inside me that tears instantly emerged and fell down my cheeks, the pang bringing through a spasm of odd relief.

Blood and saliva smeared along my cleavage as he dragged his lips further, licking and then kissing every patch he bruised. I moaned breathlessly, throwing my head back against the wall as his nimble fingers surveyed my neck, laying small threats to show me how easy he could simply suspend my very basic need.

But my survival instincts already flew out the window the moment he penetrated me.

His lips hovered above mine as he fucked deep into my body, our cries creating an obscure symphony as he continuously slammed into my hilt, harder and more urgent with every plunge. The tears that fell down my cheeks were tainted with the conflicting aphrodisiac that pain brought through. In that instant I was whole, gratified by the friction created of the collision of our wet organs.

“Do it!” I gasped and nodded through glossy stares, swallowing hard to gesture what he already knew. With a swift snap of his hands, his fingers were bruising on my neck and he slammed into me at a furious pace, giving no care for my broken screams.

Euphoria tore through my soul, crashing like hot waves of eternal fire. I came apart around his thick rod crying for God and Satan at once. Sherlock never slowed down, not even as he felt the tightening of my ring around him. It only made him fuck me harder, burying his face at my collarbone, chasing his own rapture at a punishing speed, grunting like a beast. Finally, he shuddered and pumped me full of his thick, silky milk. The muscles of his behind flexed and he ground his hot load into my warm cavern, making sure I received every drop. My hands reached to squeeze his taut ass as my legs clutched him still, wanting to keep him inside me.

As if he had any intentions of leaving as he moaned and spasmed inside me.

Smoke filled the room as few of the candles died; the scent of ash and the musk of our sex seeped through our noses while we remained entwined, shaking in each other’s grasp. Breathless and damp with sweat, Sherlock lifted his face from my neck and glanced at me looking so vulnerable, almost appearing lost. I moved my trembling hands back to his face, my thumbs caressing his sharp cheeks.

“I know I am harsh…” he murmured, his eyes digging into my heart with nothing but a gaze of despair, “but please don’t ever leave me.”

My face fell at the sound of his words, my lips parting with awe. My detective could solve the most outrageous crimes, and yet he couldn’t realise I was shackled to him for all eternity.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x ofc #henry holmes #sherlock holmes

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sunflowerdarlingx · 4 years ago

Text

Draco Malfoy (18+)

Hi everyone, I hope you’re all okay!

“To be continued”

This is part two of my previous Draco smut. Part one . Any feedback is aprreciated like always, also, please let me know who you would like me to write about next.

Female reader

Warnings: Oral (female recieving), fingering

Minors DNI

----------------------------------------

The next morning both Draco and Y/N woke up with the biggest smiles on their faces, the pair of them shooting out of bed to get ready, in hopes of seeing each other at breakfast.

As Y/N made her way to the great hall she was pulled behind one of the pillars, a hand covered her mouth as she thrashed about, “calm down trouble, it’s only me” Draco chuckles as he sets her down. “Damn it Draco! You scared me half to death” Y/N’s hand smacks his chest.

Draco's hands find her waist and he pulls her closer to him “sorry darling, just wanted your attention”, Y/N laughs at this “you had my attention last night” she places a soft kiss to his lips. His right hand travels up her back as he holds the back of her neck pulling her in closer, their kiss is soft but hungry, calm but demanding.

Draco pulls away and runs his hand across Y/N’s cheek, “would you like to have breakfast with me trouble?” his voice is soft, he’s scared she will reject him. Maybe last night was a onetime thing...maybe she’s not interested in me like that...what if she regrets last night...fuck.

“I’d love to”, Y/N places her lips to his once more before taking his hand and dragging him from behind the pillar. “How’d ya sleep” she asks as Draco wraps an arm around her waist pulling her in close, “didn’t really sleep if I'm honest, was a bit..distracted” , Y/N smirks and looks up to Draco, “oh I was the same...thoughts kept wandering somewhere else”.

“Oh yeah? What were you thinking about?” Draco asks as they enter the great hall, walking over to the Slytherin table. As Draco sits down, Y/N leans into his ear, “I was distracted by the fact I didn’t get to cum”, Draco swallowed thickly and looked at the girl beside him. “I...oh...I um...I’m sorry” Draco stutters, feeling guilty for leaving her last night - the look on his face was priceless.

“It’s okay, not your fault” she grabs a slice of toast and looks up at Draco, he can’t take his eyes off her, fear consumes him. Shes mad at me...how did I fuck up so quick...I should have made her come back with me...she thinks I’m useless...”I didn’t even think, I’m really sorry babe” he says, pouring her a glass of juice. “Draco, it’s fine, I sorted myself out when I got back to my dorm” she says casually.

“You what?” Draco asks, mouth open, shock taking over her features, “morning Malfoy, Y/L/N” Blaise is now sat in front of the pair, along with Crabbe and Goyle. He sends Draco a wink and looks Y/N up and down. “What you doing her Y/L/N, don’t think the rest of Hufflepuff will enjoy their golden girl sitting with the school's troublemakers” Blaise’s voice sounds almost flirtatious, but the wink he sends her way confirms it.

Draco’s fist clenches around his fork, the action alone has Y/N soaking at his jealousy. Placing her hand in his lap she looks up to Blaise, “Draco and I have some business that needs to be continued”. Blaise nods and starts to eat his breakfast. Y/N turns her body slightly leaning into Draco, “are you jealous?” she whispers in his ear, he looks at her through the corner of his eye “maybe” he replies coolly as he takes a sip of his drink.

Hooking her finger at his chin, she turns him to look at her, just like how she did last night. “Do you want me to be yours Draco?” she whispers softly and he nods “well show him what’s yours”. Her words alone go straight to his cock and to top it all off she pulls him towards him, lips barely touching. He wraps a hand around her throat and pulls her closer to him, kissing her deeply. A few cheers are heard around them – not that either of them is paying attention. Y/N pulls away blushing slightly as Draco smirks to himself, going back to his breakfast as if nothing out of the ordinary happened.

“Didn’t realise you two were together Draco” Crabbe says with a mouth full of food, “only happened recently Crabbe, gonna need you lads to stay out of the room today, if that’s alright”. Y/N whacks Draco’s chest, glaring at him, the boys all laugh at her reaction. “No problem mate, planned to go to the three broomsticks anyway so it’s all yours” Blaise replies with a wink. Y/N can't help the blush that paints her skin or the smile that takes over previous stern glare when Draco turns to wink at her, placing a few kisses over her face before setting his lips on hers.

Draco pulls her into the room, laying back on his bed, an arm outstretched to pull Y/N into his side. “Didn’t think Draco Malfoy would be a cuddler” she giggles as he buries his head in her neck, placing soft kisses on her skin. “I didn’t think the school's golden girl would love a mouthful of my cock as much as she did, guess we are both surprised” he says with a laugh that turns into a groan as Y/N whacks his shoulder...again.

Y/N pouts and Draco kisses her, once, twice, three times and Y/N can’t help but smile. “So Draco...what does to be continued mean?” she raises her eyebrows playfully as Draco pulls her in closer. “Well...” he pauses to kiss her again “What do you want it to mean love?”, Y/N smirks and places her hand on Draco’s chest, slowly tracing down to the waistband of his joggers.

“I hope it means you’re gonna repay me for last night”, Draco’s eyes get darker as he pulls Y/N in for another kiss, he pulls her closer, turning so she straddles his waist. The kiss is heated, sloppy, teeth clattering, and the sound of Draco’s groans mix sweetly with Y/N’s moans as she grinds down on him

“Tell me what you want baby” he barely gets out as Y/N starts to trail kisses down his neck. Y/N sits up, pulling her shirt above her head, Draco leaning up with her, “I want you to fuck me Draco”. His hands go straight to her chest, his lips trailing down her neck before capturing her nipple between his lips. She tugs at his hair, grinding her hips down on his. Draco pulls away lifting his top over his head, before standing up with Y/N, they make quick work of getting their clothes off.

Draco pulls Y/N into his lap again, his hands gripping her waist as he kisses her “I did all the work last night Draco” she whines. Draco chuckles against her neck “I thought taking the lead was your thing” she rolls her eyes, a shocked squeal leaving her lips as Draco flips them over. He runs his hands up and down her thighs, kissing down her chest, “tell me what you want baby...do you want my fingers?” his hand traces along the bottom of her stomach and around her upper things, “or maybe my tongue?” he kisses along the same path his hands travelled, “or...do you want my cock deep inside your tight little cunt?”.

Y/N moans at his words, her wetness dripping down her legs “please Draco”, “I asked you what you want baby, you better tell me or you’ll get nothing” his lips trail down her thighs, sucking softly, leaving his mark. “I...I want it all” she moans, her hips bucking slightly.

Draco smirks against her thigh, his hand gripping her knees, pulling them apart, “are you sure baby?” Y/N groans at his teasing, “yes Draco...ple” her sentence was cut short as Draco slowly runs his tongue up her pussy, sucking her clit softly. “Fuck...Draco....feels so good” her hands tug at his hair as his fingers slowly tease her entrance. Draco slowly starts to finger her, adding a second digit, he feels Y/N buck her hips. His other hand comes up and settles over her stomach, rubbing soft circles across it.

“Taste so good baby...” he curls his digits hitting that sweet spot inside her “uhh..ohh...just like that Draco” he brings his mouth back down to her pussy, the feeling of his fingers and tongue bringing her closer to the edge. “Draco...feels so good...fuck right there...just like that” her needy whimpers and moans are driving Draco wild.

“Thats it pretty girl, cum on my fingers and then you can cum around my cock? That sound good?” Y/N can only nod in response, the familiar knot in her stomach getting tighter, “that's in baby” Draco can feel her tighten around his fingers, her moans getting higher, her breathing ragged, “cum for me”.

Y/N’s climax washes over her, she’s a shaking mess below Draco, whimpering his name over and over. Draco laps up her juices, standing over her after she comes down from her high. Wiping his chin, he leans in to kiss her, “such a good girl aren’t you”. Y/N looks up at him, barely able to form a sentence, “fuck me” she moans into the kiss “please”

“How can I say no when you're so polite” he chuckles and goes over to his bedside table grabbing a condom. He leans over Y/N again, “are you sure this is what you want baby? We can stop if you want to, I don’t mind” he kisses her softly, “I think I might scream if you stop now” she giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him softly.

Draco lines himself up, one hand on her waist and the other gripping the base of his cock. He pushes in slowly, a whimper leaving Y/N’s lips and a soft groan leaving his “so tight for me baby”, Y/N lifts her hips to his after a moment and Draco slowly starts to thrust his hips forward. Each and every thrust is deep, not to hard and not too fast, its slow and sensual. His lips find their way to Y/N’s, he pulls back and places a kiss to her forehead, “you’ve got no idea how long I’ve waited for this baby...god you feel so good around my cock...” he feels Y/N tighten around him.

“Fuck Draco...you're so big...fill me up so good” she moans as he hits that spot inside her over and over, he buries his head in her neck, both of his arms are set on the bed, resting on his elbows. “So...so tight” he mumbles, his lips on her skin cause goosebumps to decorate her neck.

His thrusts start to get sloppy, his hand reaching down to rub circles on her clit, “D..Draco...feels so good...please don’t stop” she moans, back arching in pleasure “wasn’t planning on it baby” Draco whispers in her ear. “’m so close” her moans are quiet, Draco lifts his head so he can look at her, her eyes are screwed shut and her mouth is in an o shape, “open your eyes baby, look at me when you cum”. She opens her eyes, her lids heavy, “gonna cum” she moans loudly as Draco thrusts his hips a little harder “me to” he kisses her once more before she comes undone beneath him.

She cums moaning his name over and over again. Her cunt clenching around his cock and her beautiful eyes looking up at him sends Draco over the edge and he cums, filling up the condom.

He rides out both of their orgasms and pulls out, throwing the condom in the bin. He wraps a blanket around Y/N and cuddles in next to her. “That was amazing” he says and kisses her cheek, “it was indeed” she smiles over at him, a slight dazed look on her face.

They sit in silence for a few moments before Y/N speaks up, “so..so what are we Draco?” she whispers softly, turning to run her hand through his hair. His eyes are shut and he opens one, “I thought we agreed in the great hall you were mine”, Y/N can't help but smile ear to ear and nod eagerly. Draco smiles back and pulls her in for a kiss, “well girlfriend, will we get cleaned up and head to dinner?”. Draco stands up, grabbing some clothes for himself and some for Y/N, “hold these gorgeous”, Y/N takes them in her lap and Draco lifts her bridal style, carrying her into the bathroom.

“you know...” he sets her down turning on the shower “we could continue in here...”

#draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader

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