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#lave talks
lavellyne · 4 months
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happy new year
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lavellynblr · 10 months
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i wish people would change their avatars right after joining tumblr because right now, i can't tell if the five new ones are actually a bot or real people, and i'm a step away from blocking them all
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laveliest · 1 year
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happy new year!!!
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chikaras-garden · 8 months
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Batboys as your sugar daddy
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What’s the point of all this money if you don’t have someone to spend it on?
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Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x fem!reader
Contains: Sugar daddies. Possessive, controlling men. Power imbalances. They’re all a little toxic. These relationships are not aspirational babes. Oral sex (f!receiving) in Dick’s.
Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked.
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BRUCE WAYNE 💋
“Wear the diamonds,” Bruce rumbles from behind you, lips right next to the shell of your ear. Before you can answer, his warm hands are already on your throat, and cool platinum touches your skin. A hundred diamonds arranged in three dainty layers sparkle in the low light of Bruce’s bedroom, clinging tightly to your neck.
With the choker clasped in place, one of Bruce’s hands traces up and down your neck while the other rests heavily on your hip, holding you flush against his chest. His touch is hypnotic, pulling you in like a planet pulls a moon into orbit. Your whole world revolves around him—and that’s exactly how he likes it.
But like the moon, the subtle gravitational pull you have on him keeps him in place, keeps him stable, calms his most wicked of storms.
He bows his head. The way he looks at you through his eyelashes is almost reverent while he kisses your bare shoulder, skin interrupted only by your dress’s hair-thin silk strap.
“Beautiful,” he says, and you know he’s not talking about the necklace, the dress, or any of the other jewels and silks he’s drowned you in over the last year.
When your eyes meet in the mirror, one corner of his lips quirks up into a smirk, which he buries under a kiss to your jaw. 
There, with a quick, sharp nip of his teeth, he lays his claim. “And all mine.”
DICK GRAYSON 💋
Dick’s on his knees, head buried between your legs when you hear—feel—him say, “I need you to take a week off work.”
Well. What he really needs is for you to just quit your job already, but you got upset the last time he suggested it. Baby steps. For now.
“Why?” you gasp, blinking hard as you try to focus on the fact that he’s starting a conversation now when his tongue is making you smart and shake with pleasure.
“I want to go to the Maldives,” he says as if it’s the most inconsequential thing in the world, as if he’s saying he wants to go across town, not across the world.
His tongue flattens out and dips into your weeping hole, and your thighs tighten around his head in response. He groans, and you choke out, “A week for the Maldives?”
You feel his lips twist and curve around you, paired with a little graze of teeth; he’s smiling, and the sensation makes you dizzy. There it is, he wants to say. You want more. Finally, your expectations are starting to match his bank account.
But he decides to play the dumb, pretty boyfriend he likes to make people think he is. “You don’t think it’s enough time? Wanna take two weeks?”
“I don’t have the—” He kisses up to your clit and gives it a tentative little suck, which makes you fist his hair. “—vacation days.”
“Why don’t you just take them without pay?” he proposes as his tongue laves up your swollen sex. “It’ll be okay, just this once. You’ll feel so much better after some time off; I promise.”
JASON TODD 💋
Jason is currently scrutinizing the contents of your pantry, a box of macaroni and cheese in his hand. After seeing the scowl on his face, you’re not surprised when he starts to lecture you. “You eat this crap?”
You raise a brow because he’s one to judge. “I’ve seen you eat an entire party box of tacos.”
“I’m not you,” he fires back. His voice is still low, still calm, but you can sense an edge in his tone; this conversation is about a lot more than boxed macaroni and cheese.
In the beat of silence that follows, his heated gaze dulls to a smolder. “You don’t know how precious you are.”
You open your mouth to reply, but whatever retort you were going to argue back with is silenced when Jason’s big hands cup your face, tilting your head up so he can kiss your forehead. He lingers there, and you feel him tremble. His breath is ragged, rough—as if he’s afraid.
“I’m not you,” he repeats in a whisper. It’s like he’s talking to a child, like he knows you don’t know any better. Poor little you—you need him. “Just let me take care of you like always, okay? How about I sign you up for one of those meal prep kits? No more processed food; it’s not good for you.”
When he pulls you against his chest and strokes your hair, you feel yourself nod, unable to disagree. You know he’s right, after all; and isn’t it sweet that he treats you like a delicate angel even though he’s seen the worst of the world? That nothing without his stamp of approval is good enough for you?
TIM DRAKE 💋
“Oh, you’re all set,” your manicurist smiles at you as soon as you take out your wallet, nails freshly done. 
Caught off guard, all you can reply with is, “Huh?”
She just smiles a little brighter, and there’s a sparkle of something in her eyes. It looks a little wistful, but also a little vapid—is that jealousy? “Your boyfriend paid already,” she explains as her eyes not-so-subtly look around, trying to catch a glimpse of said boyfriend, but you’re just as surprised as she is.
“For the next year,” she adds in a dry tone. Slowly, you drop your wallet back into your purse. There’s only one man alive who could figure out where you get your nails done, what day and time you like your appointments, and call ahead to pay off your manicures for the next year without you ever finding out about it.
So when you get back to your car, you call him.
“Do anything fun today?” he asks over the phone, pretending to be way more innocent than he actually is.
“Tim—”
“Actually,” he cuts in, and you hear a bashful tremor in his voice. That tremor makes your stomach do flips, which beckons you to give in to whatever he wants. “I was just thinking about you. You’ve got the prettiest hands.”
“Tim—”
“Let’s go shopping later,” he rambles on, completely ignoring you. “I think you need some new jewelry. You’d like a new set of rings, wouldn’t you?”
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🔖: @mrs-kurooo; @lovely-loren05
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yanderenightmare · 2 months
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TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omega verse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, double-pen, gangbang kinda, tag-team
fem reader
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It’s been a month since your new owner brought you home, and despite expectations, you’ve yet to be eaten by the predators you share your den with. On the contrary, the six hybrids seem to have accepted you as their seventh pack member despite you being at the very bottom of the food chain.
You’ve come to trust that, despite the look of hunger in their eyes… food isn’t exactly what they have in mind. 
The hyena seems to be the only one your age. But he’s also a bit of a bully. Always goading you with ticklish poking until you stomp your feet and whine at him to stop. 
He never listens to you, though – he just cocks his head, finding it funny how you try giving him orders – only grinning as he pins you instead, chewing some on the lops of your ears while squeezing your cottontail – smirking and giggling at your pouty face getting all frustrated.
Your weak kicking is so cute, and so is how you try clawing at him despite having but blunt nails – he can’t help but laugh at the way it tickles him. 
It’s so painstakingly clear you’re not made to fight back, and it’s so adorable how you don’t even realize you already surrendered the moment you rolled over on your back with your belly up. 
It makes him go absolutely feral when you pull on his ears and mane, begging him to stop as he laves at your slit and clit, delving his long tongue deep within your walls until the tip prods your womb. It’s course against your skin and harsh on your insides and scratches your poor clit until it’s all swollen and throbbing for him – making you sob as his feral smile teases your chubby mound with a bite – only satisfied when you cum in his mouth.
But while the hyena enjoys play-fighting with you, the rest are more prone to fight each other…
The panther and leopard are good friends, whilst the fox and wolf seem to tolerate each other – and you don’t know whether it’s unfortunate or a blessing in disguise that both pairs only want you for themselves and often end up fighting over you.
You’d say the four are the most trigger-happy of the pack – always hissing and barking at each other. But everyone knows that cats and dogs don’t get along.
The canines are a little scarier, you think. They’re rougher with you.
The wolf especially. He’s older than you, a big heap of hulking muscles that bear down over you with the daunting superiority of a seasoned hunter. 
He doesn’t take lightly to you talking back to him – acting as though he’s actually offended when you so much as open your mouth if it’s not to swallow his tongue. Even if all you ask is for him to go a little slower, he’ll just growl at you – threatening your neck with fangs while chewing your collar – and otherwise ignore your cry completely. Calling you his bitch while telling you to quit your whimpering even though he’s been breeding you sore for the past hour, ramming your poor cunt so hard your muscles have all given out and left you to lie on the floor with only his paws keeping your hips upright.
He's always extra rough when you reek of cat – as though it’s your fault. Huffing and puffing as he now has to spend so much effort scenting you again.
It’s a never-ending war between them all. You go from camp to camp, getting marked again and again like territory, only for your owner to clean you up at the end of the day.
But the wolf is the worst. One time he’d gone so far as to piss on you… 
But he was later scolded by the owner – bonking his head with a rolled-up newspaper, telling him he had to learn to share or else he’d have to go sleep out in the doghouse. He’d also been told he had to stop breaking skin when biting you unless he wanted to be muzzled.
It only made him all the more grumpier. Growling in your ear that the one who ought to be muzzled is you and your snitch-mouth always crying wolf like some bitch who never learns her place – that next time you go talking to the owner, he’s going to eat you like the piece of meat you are.
You come to learn that he’s more bark than bite after a while. 
When you get used to him and his stamina, you stop crying and start holding onto him instead. And it’s when you’re burying your face in his neck and begging for his seed that he softens up for you.
He stops biting and starts sucking instead – laying hickeys all over your neck and chest, blushing with closed eyes when suckling your tits like a pup. You learn he’s a sucker for being called good boy and will wag his tail when you sit on his face. 
He’s also the one with the most owner-sickness of the pack, always clinging to you, growling when others get close, and never ever sharing when his turn.
He only begrudgingly allows the fox to eat his scraps afterward. 
You can only mew as he mounts you next. 
His tempo is always a bit of a shock – a bit juvenile, but who can blame him when he’s had to wait for so long? He’s a little younger than you – eager and desperate for it every single time.
Pounding you sharply – hard and fast with howls and heavy panting – even whimpering as you hold you tighter and tighter, squeezing you free of air as he savors the feel of your wet pussy clamping down around him.
He doesn’t growl too much when you whine. Instead, he laughs – elated and frenzied – eyes manic as he sticks his tongue as far down your throat as he can – drooling uncontrollably as he sinks his knot inside you and spills his worth inside your womb.
It’s a relief he doesn’t last as long as his bigger partner.
He’ll suck love-bites on the chubs of your cheeks as he unswells – lick all the sweat from your skin and come down by the sweet taste. Laying sloppy kisses all over your body and lapping over all bruises and soreness in gratitude – looking at you somewhat sheepishly with big puppy-dog eyes as though suddenly embarrassed that he’d been so feral.
The felines are less spastic. 
But they also like to lick you – with sand-textured tongues scraping at your fur and skin until they’ve made sure you’re coated with their scent. They seem to enjoy grooming more than anything, always snuggling with you.
But they get flirty, too… you’ll know when they start kneading your softer parts – blinking at you slow and expectantly until you return the favor.
They’re the same age and have known each other all their life, practically brothers, and do everything together as though they were a pair of Siamese – including when they mate with you. 
They’ll lay you down on one lean chest while the other is poised above you. Purring as they take turns with you – both so gently.
The panther always has a sly smile on his face when looking down at you – his claws retracted while he sticks his slender fingers inside your mouth to play with your tongue. He says it’s one of his favorite things about you – so soft and so silky, so different from theirs when you lick his skin.
It makes the leopard pout behind you, nuzzling you tight, his cheek to your cheek, asking the other if he doesn’t like it when he grooms him. 
The panther only smiles down at both of you, promising that he likes both your tongues until he proceeds to swap between which one of you he kisses.
When the leopard kisses you, he also admits he likes your tongue – whispering all depraved things that come to mind – loves how smooth it feels in his mouth and on his lips and neck and nipples and cock and balls.
Eventually, the heat gets to their heads, and their pointy ears start to droop, looking at you with such dark glossy eyes, opium-blown with pleasure and lust for more – kissing each side of your face, asking whether you won’t allow them both inside you at the same time – their pretty pleas making your head go silly, panting while nodding your head for them, bucking your hips stuck between the two while begging for both of them.
You feel their slim tails coil around each of your thighs as they sink inside your drooling heat together – their breaths deep and shuddering while they feel your tightness squeeze around them. 
They coo at you – telling you how perfect you look trapped between them like that – as their pretty little double-stuffed toy. And you’re too cock-drunk to do anything but agree.
After flooding you with cum, they go back to cuddling – sleeping – the both of them purring with lanky limbs all tangled on top of each other and you in the middle.
The bear is also a lazy fellow – a gentle giant. Something you’re grateful for – you don’t think you’d survive if he ever tried mounting and pounding you like the other boys.
He’s the eldest of the pack. Twice your age. You feel the seniority in his movements – all unhurried, savoring every second with a warm smile.
He’s satisfied with having you on his lap – cock-warmed by your tight bunny-cunt while you hand-feed him berries. You feel a little safer with him knowing you have the same appetite and that he isn’t thinking about eating you. 
He hums, a rusty sound that comes from his gut – telling you he likes seeing you eat – that it’s cute how you take such small bites – and the way your nose scrunches and your cheeks fill.
Sometimes he’ll tell you to hop on his lap – his massive warm paws placed on your haunches with large black claws gently denting the plush flesh found there, encouraging you as you ease up and down the great length that bulges from your belly. 
The size of it makes you pant.
You’re glad he’s happy having you at the end of the day – after you’ve been loosened up by the others. You fear he’d split you in two if otherwise.
The owner collects you before bedtime after everyone’s had their share – clips a leash onto your collar, and leads you to the bathroom – crawling on all four like an actual animal. You’ll often collapse halfway there, but he doesn’t mind scooping you up to carry you instead – always with a few patronizing words leaving him while mollycoddling you, almost speaking baby to you, telling you how proud he is of how domesticated you’ve become.
There’s always a bath waiting for you – a gift for being such a good little pet, he says. 
It reminds you of when you were first brought here, as he washes you with his own hands – rubbing the filth of spit, cum, and sweat from your sore limbs, messaging your flesh into nice limber softness again.
He’s always mumbling about human matters under his breath – money, business, estate – ruffling your hair when you give him a blank stare. Apologizing while saying he won’t trouble your pretty head with such complicated topics.
All you have to worry about is being his stress-relief – something clueless and dumb and dependent on him. You realize that without him needing to say it. It’s communicated through all the other things he says anyway.
He’s always whispering in your ear before bed – sweet nothings about what a good bunny you are – how you’re the cutest, softest, sweetest little thing in the entire world – telling you how much he loves you and how happy he is that you’re finally settling in – how you’ve become the most precious little housebroken pet for him.
It feels different when he touches you. The other hybrids make you feel small, but there’s a familiarity with them – something about being hunted fairly and squarely, like out in the wild. 
With the owner, you’re reminded you’re a pet eating out of his palm – something tame warming his bed at night with your leash tied to the bed frame.
He doesn’t fuck you with the same intent as the others do – there’s no rut behind his cold movements. It’s not mating or breeding. It’s something else you can’t put your finger on. Something human. Something alien to you.
Something in the way he has his hand fisting your leash as he sinks inside your heat – something in how he babies you, calls you cute when you shake and cum around his cock like you can’t control yourself.
It all makes you feel like some mindless animal.
Impulsive and primitive in comparison to him and his calculated thrusts and how he only cums inside you after you’ve all but begged him to breed you.
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part 1
Owner: BNHA - Aizawa, AFO JJK - Nanami, Kenjaku HQ - Ukai
Hyena: BNHA - Shigaraki JJK - Mahito HQ - Tendou
Wolf: BNHA - Bakugou, Dabi JJK - Sukuna, Noaya HQ - Sakusa
Fox: BNHA - Kirishima, Denki, Deku, Amajiki JJK - Yuji, Yuuta, Choso HQ - Hinata, Nishinoya
Leopard & Panther: BNHA - Denki & Shinso, Hawks & Dabi JJK - Gojo & Geto HQ - Miya twins, Oikawa & Kageyama, Kuro & Kenma
Bear: BNHA - Enji, Aizawa, All Might, Mirio JJK - Toji, Nanami, Higuruma HQ - Daichi, Ushijima
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futureman · 8 months
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give in
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pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: joel shows you how to love yourself the way you deserve
warnings: 18+ MDNI, jackson era, soft!joel, age gap, comfort, smut, size kink, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, fingering, exploring sexual trauma, mentions of guilt & shame, intrusive thoughts
word count: 2.8k
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“Doin’ real good, baby. That’s it, nice and slow. No need to rush it.”
Joel needs you to believe it. 
He can feel your discomfort and sense the intrusive thoughts threatening to overtake you, but he needs you to know that everything you're doing right now is okay. 
It’s normal and natural, and, under his roof, highly encouraged. All he's ever wanted is for you to feel good. For you to allow yourself the grace and gratification of coming undone at your own, perfect hand.
But you live by an unspoken rule, one that doesn't apply to anyone else but you. There's nothing you love more than watching Joel touch himself, whether it's quick and dirty, or drawn-out and meticulous, his body teetering on the edge of all-consuming release for hours. Yet, when it comes to your personal pleasure, there’s only shame.
He's beginning to realize that your aversion goes beyond a lack of education. You were young when the outbreak hit, and while FEDRA schools aren’t exactly known for their top-tier sex ed classes, that isn't what's holding you back.
There's something else there, too, buried beneath the surface. A lifetime's worth of guilt and doubt that he alone gets the privilege of unraveling. So, whenever you come to him for help, he leads you to his bed and gently coaxes you to self-completion.
He takes it slow and keeps his hands to himself unless you tell him otherwise—and you always tell him otherwise. But those are your boundaries to set. New, spoken rules to replace the old ones. 
Pressed firmly into your side, he whispers soft reassurances in your ear, his lips brushing the wispy baby hairs framing your forehead with every word. He swallows every gasp and moan, and cherishes the sharp sting of your nails biting into his skin as you reach your peak.
And when you come down from the clouds and turn to him with hazy eyes and a blissful smile, he knows it's all worth it. Even if it takes years more, he’ll continue to talk you through it, banishing the cruel thoughts that plague you and replacing them with the promise of relief.
Just like he is right now.
--
"Tell me what you're feelin'. I wanna know what's goin' on in that pretty head of yours."
You shake your head, exhaling a long, frustrated breath. Your body never responds to you the way it does to Joel, and, on the rare occasion it does, it just isn't the same. It takes too long, and there's none of the gradual build-up that allows you to lose yourself in it. Not in the pleasure of it, anyway.
"S'a little...dry," you mumble, slowing to a stop. It'll start to burn if you keep going like this, but you're not sure what else you can do. Joel presses a gentle kiss to the shell of your ear before pulling back.
"Lemme see your hand, sugar," he says, gesturing for yours with his own. Confused, you remove your fingers from between your legs to hold up in front of his face. 
You're waiting for him to inspect them, or come up with a valid reason why they're not working, when he abruptly sucks them into his mouth. His tongue feels hot, searingly so, as he laves over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, then dips between them to caress your knuckles down to where they meet. 
A wave of heat almost identical to the one enveloping your hand begins to pool at the base of your spine, and you feel a sudden, heady whoosh at the apex of your thighs. If he could just keep doing that, exactly that, but further down your body—
But, to your disappointment, he stops as suddenly as he started and slides your fingers from his mouth with a lewd pop before guiding them back to your core.
"How 'bout now?" he asks earnestly, and Christ. He's so good at that. He always knows how to work your body, even by proxy. 
You're wet. You don't even need the added moisture of Joel's saliva, anymore. Just the action itself has you breathing heavier, enticing a craving you never knew you had. Your fingers slip clumsily through the slick leaking out of you, and your eyelids flutter at the fleeting sensation of your fingertips catching your entrance. 
"B-better...feels better," you stumble over your words. Your fingers continue to explore your folds without your permission, stoking the fire in your belly. And also your doubt. "But I'm—J-Joel it's..."
That telltale embarrassment is starting to creep in again, reminding you that you're doing something wrong. It feels too good, and you really don't want to stop, but what does that say about you? Sinner, slut. The intrusive thoughts are louder than Joel's gentle panting in your ear, now.
As if he can hear them, he snakes a hand past your stomach to grip the soft plush of your thigh. He spreads you open for him, exposing your cunt to the open air as he massages soothing shapes into your skin, silencing the ugly words with his kind touch.
"S'alright, sugar, you can keep goin'. You liked that, right? That's good. You're treatin' your body the way she deserves," he says encouragingly. His hand inches closer to where you're dribbling onto the sheets, but stops the moment his thumb reaches your coarse curls. 
You ache to wrap your soaked fingers around his to tug him closer, but you know you can't. And that feels surprisingly okay. For the first time in a long time, you're actually keeping yourself sated enough without his help.
Now that your legs are parted, it all feels...different. Heightened, almost. It's because you're hyperaware of every movement you're making, you realize, and it turns you on way more than it should. Or, no. No. Exactly as much as it should. 
Joel isn't immune to it, either. 
As your bedroom fills with the sounds of crisp, rustling sheets and the slick motions of your fingers roaming your folds, you can feel Joel fighting harder not to rut into your side. His body is tense beside you, and the bicep pillowing your head flexes intermittently every time your hips swivel to meet your hand. His praise is also starting to take on an edge, now tinged with something a little...filthier.
"Y'hear that? You're gettin' so loud, sugar. So wet," he grits out, his expression pained. "Just look at'cha. Needy, perfect girl. Doin' everythin' right."
His eyes dart up to your face, observing the delicate scrunch of your nose and your parted lips. He's watching you a little too intently, likely to avoid the image of your glistening palm and fingertips working to bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. You're making a huge mess.
And it's making Joel hard as a rock. Twitching and leaking, and temptingly bare against the sweet friction of your hip bone. You know he's doing everything he can to focus on you, but he can't even begin to imagine how much his reaction is spurring you on. 
More. You want to give yourself so much more.
"Joel, I don't think I'm doing it right," you twist to whine into his tousled, graying hair. You breathe him in, and the familiar scent of pine and suede makes your head spin and your fingers stutter. "S'not enough. I-I need more, I keep losing it."
He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth, wrenching his gaze away from you to glance down the bed. Christ, he can't even hide how badly he wants to touch you. His cock jerks the moment he catches sight of you again, smearing precum across your skin, and you involuntarily mimic him, your hips bucking up into your unpracticed touch.
Blunt nails dig into your thigh before his hand trails back up to your stomach. It trembles as he guides you, languidly and with a hint of desperation. 
"S'okay, just follow me," he instructs you, swirling his middle and ring fingers in a tight circle around your belly button. You shiver at the raspiness of his voice. "Right around your clit. Remember where that is?" 
But before you can shake your head, his arm slides out from under you and he shifts further down your body to lean over you, propping himself on his elbow. His fingers continue their ministrations on your stomach while he moves lower to gently tug up the hood of your clit, revealing your swollen nub. 
"Fuckin' hell," he swears quietly under his breath, his stomach visibly tensing. He's careful to steer clear of everything else, giving you enough space to heed his lesson. 
"Alright, c'mere, sugar. There ya go. See? You remember," he releases you, shifting a hand to your thigh and wrapping the other tightly around the base of his cock. He keens, his back nearly bowing with the pent-up tension in his body. "That's it. Nice, tight circles. Just like when I make you cum with my mouth."
You choke on your next moan, squeezing your eyes shut as you're suddenly inundated with memories of Joel between your legs, fucking you with his tongue until you gush into his mouth. You press down harder, swirl faster. No guilt, no disgust. It all still feels so good. 
He notices the change in your breathing immediately and begins to stroke himself in time with the rapid rise and fall of your breasts. The hazel of his eyes sharpens to pitch black. A warning, preparing you for the ecstasy to come.
"Oh, you like that, huh? S'good, you're doin' so good. Can ya give yourself two fingers? Wanna show ya all the ways I make you squeeze mine," he croons, teasing just below the ridge of his head with his thumb while he waits for your response. 
"I...yeah, y-yes," you whimper, your brows furrowing as you slip your fingers lower to circle your entrance. But as you start to press into yourself, you hesitate. "W-wait, it feels like too much. I don't want it to hurt."
At that, he all but winces like he's in physical pain, and his hand shoots to the base of his cock again, squeezing hard. 
"Christ," he grits through his teeth, but it sounds more akin to a growl. It wasn't your intention to make him fight his own body like this, but you won't lie and say you're not devouring every second of it. He exhales sharply through his nose to ground himself. "Does it feel good when ya take my cock?"
Those dark eyes are on yours, now, but somehow they're still so gentle. He's not saying any of this for himself. You can tell, it's all for you. Reminders that you can do this if you want it, and that he'd never ask you to do anything that could harm you.
You nod quickly because it does feel good. You need him to know that having his cock inside you feels so, so good. 
"Look at those pretty, little fingers of yours. They bigger than I am?"
Your eyes drop to where his hand is still wrapped tightly around himself. He's leaking all over his fingers, thick and tinged an angry shade of red.
"No, Joel. You're bigger," you whisper, your pleasure intensifying the longer you watch him. His lips quirk into the beginnings of a smirk.
"Now, ya don't have to. You can get yourself there just like that. S'just as good," his drawl commands your attention. "But I think you'd like knowin' how it feels like to cum around 'em—"
The tips of your fingers begin to sink into your heat before he finishes his sentence. The sensation is...everything. Too much to keep your eyes from rolling back or your jaw from dropping. It's so different. As you bottom out, you wonder how this is even possible for Joel. How he ever manages to fit.
"S'hard to move," you pump your fingers in and out experimentally, moaning quietly at the addictive way they drag against your sensitive walls.
You're not too naive to realize your body stretches to accommodate him, but you're too caught up in the sight of his hand resuming its previous pace to recall that knowledge. He looks a little desperate now and sounds even more so.
"Fuck me. S'it tight? Tell me, sugar. Tell me how tight ya are," he pants heavily, unable to stop himself from fucking into his fist. You unknowingly match his pace, clenching around yourself every time your palm slaps into your clit.
"M'so tight, Joel. And wet and warm," your eyes flutter closed as you lose yourself in the beauty of your own body. 
Letting the slick sound of his hand slamming into his pelvic bone be your guide, you bring yourself closer and closer to your own, distinctive state of nirvana. The same explosive release Joel gives you all the time that you're finally allowing your body to experience with itself.
"Joel, I'm...I...," you sob around your words, barely able to force them out as your entire being quakes with your impending orgasm. "...I can't—m'gonna cum, Joel, I can't."
Without warning, he throws a leg over your body to straddle your hips and crashes his lips into yours. He continues to work himself as he coaxes your mouth open, his tongue brushing yours fleetingly before he pulls back. 
"Ya can. Let go, sugar. Give in to it, s'okay. I got ya, I'm right here," he breathes against your lips, and you tilt your head to meet his again. When your head drops back onto the bed, your eyes are pleading. You need his help. 
And he understands. That's what he's here for.
"Cum with me," he murmurs, dropping his forehead to yours. "C'mon, perfect girl, you deserve it."
You believe him. The shame and never-ending guilt that twists and snags like barbed wire in your chest is nowhere to be found right now. There's only silence, save for you and Joel teetering on the cusp, and his tender reassurances in your ear. He's right. You can have this. 
"Ngh—Joel, it's...cumming. Fuck, fuck, m'cumming."
It creeps up on you, a gentle crescendo that abruptly peaks, then slams into you like a freight train. His name leaves your lips in a sharp exhale of sheer relief, repeated like a prayer while you ride it out. 
You're vaguely aware of a ragged, drawn-out groan above you as you soak the sheets beneath you, your cunt squeezing your fingers hard with every spasm, just like he said it would. You feel it all. 
Then, you feel him, splattering across your stomach and breasts in thick, white streaks, his release as messy and prolonged as yours. Gasping, you continue through your aftershocks together until sensitivity sets in.
Joel collapses on the bed next to you and immediately pulls you into his arms, uncaring of the sticky, drying residue smearing between you. He cups your cheek and kisses you, firmly but chastely, before reluctantly pulling away.
His eyes search yours carefully like he's looking for something. Peace, maybe? A sense of calm, an absence of the cloudiness he so often sees there and fights to keep at bay. Whatever it is, he must've found it because, then, his lips are on yours again, a longer, deeper kiss that you melt into with loose limbs and a light heart.
"How we doin', sugar?" he asks tentatively as he parts from you. 
You take a moment to respond, appraising your body and everything it can sense right now. The wetness between your legs and on your chest, your aching wrist and thighs, and that sweet, pleasant buzz settling at the top of your spine. 
"Good," you tell him honestly. You gaze up at him with a blissful smile, preening at the affectionate one he gives you in return, before burying your face in the crook of his neck. 
"Thanks...for this," you continue, mumbling carefully into the warmth of his skin. "And for putting up with me. I know all of this is shitty and weird, and not fun. Just...thank you—for never giving up on me."
He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer and enveloping you in his strong, soothing embrace. It feels safe here. In Joel's bed, surrounded by his scent and heat, and unwavering patience, you start to feel hopeful. He lifts your hand to his lips and softly kisses the pads of each finger, then the center of your palm.
"Ya don't have to thank me for any of that. We'll keep doin' this, s'long as it takes," he murmurs, urging you out of your hiding spot to meet his eyes. "Not a damn thing wrong with ya. Ya hear me? You're perfect."
Maybe one day, you'll be able to believe him outside of this bedroom. But, for right now, you just feel lucky to be loved by a man like Joel. One who accepts your trauma and your past, and will always be there to save you, even from yourself.
thanks for reading!
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rinneverse · 30 days
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pspspsp,,, do you perhaps have a spare boothill thought or two ,, sfw or nsfw,,,
i most certainly do have a few spare boothill thoughts! mostly nsfw ( ¬‿¬) walk with me nonnie… heheheh this got a wee bit too out of hand and i dropped WAY more than a few thoughts (and i am also tipsy, so i apologize in advance if something doesn't make sense) regardless, i hope u rlly like this :3
cw. assorted boothill x f!reader thoughts, manhandling, biting, improper use of a lasso (bondage!), mentions of overstim, lack of stamina is a foreign concept to boothill, talk of cyborg dick and artificial cum, creampies. not proofread in the slightest if there are typos no there's not
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𓆩♡𓆪 the thing about boothill is how unafraid he is of manhandling you. while he's aware that humans are much more fragile than he, he knows your limits like the back of his hand and he knows what you can handle. you can take him like a big girl, can't you?
𓆩♡𓆪 he'll fold you in half, put you in all sorts of positions, toss you over his shoulder and pat your plush ass with a smug laugh. if you decide you want to ride him and get all tuckered out, thighs burning, the moment you're whining and babbling for his help he's already on it. big hands envelop your waist as he moves you to his whims.
𓆩♡𓆪 boothill likes to see you pleasure-drunk, entirely fucked out by the time he's done with you. he can go for as long as you need, baby; you just have to say the word. he can eat you out for hours, fuck you for double that, and still have enough energy to take care of you afterwards.
𓆩♡𓆪 cyborg sex has the potential to really get freaky tbh... he's definitely had chats with you about different 'attachments...' whatever you're into. he's definitely figured out which size makes you cum the most, and will indulge your every whim—especially when you shyly ask him "baby... can we go bigger?" (if he still had a human body, his dick would be rock fucking hard right now.) he's definitely looked into vibrating attachments. great heavens.
𓆩♡𓆪 SPEAKING OF attachments he's looked into: boothill has definitely found a way to creampie you. the tipping point for him deep diving into this was when you were just whinin' so pretty for him, begging for more, and you had let it slip that you wished so bad for him to be able to cum into you. lo and behold, he finds a solution and he surprises you by cumming deep in your aching cunt one night. the two of you definitely make a mess of your bedsheets by the end of the day (and you probably had the most earth-shattering orgasms you've ever had in your life).
𓆩♡𓆪 the day you finally asked him what his teeth would feel like, boothill's grinning like a maniac. he won't bite so hard that it hurts too much, but he knows how much you like the power he holds over you. sharp teeth sink into flesh, followed by a hot tongue that laves over the mark adoringly.
𓆩♡𓆪 another day he indulged you... there was one time he noticed you eyeing the lasso that hangs at his hips. he smiles wolfishly at you and asks, "like what you see, darlin'?" he's surprised when you shyly nod your head and look up at him with sweet doe eyes and asks if maybe... he'd consider using it in the bedroom?
𓆩♡𓆪 and oh, he did. he considered it maybe a little too hard (he jerked himself off far too many times that day). when the time came for him to use it on you, he was fiending. he ties your wrists to the bedposts and just goes to town, treating your cute body like a pretty little cum dump. he's definitely a big fan. especially when you can't run away from all the pleasure he wants to give you <3
𓆩♡𓆪 he doesn't look it, but i think he provides good aftercare. he knows how fragile the human body is firsthand: that's why he's a cyborg now. he'll take care of you. without fail, every time he's done with you, you're practically a puddle, exhausted and jelly-boned, and boothill is scooping you up into his metal arms. and yet despite the cool metal pressing against your flesh, you feel warm. maybe it's just the love pouring out of his every action, the way he treats your body with absolute reverence and adoration as he cleans you up and gets you ready for some rest.
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please don't repost on other platforms. rbs and comments are super appreciated ♡ !!
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vote2 · 1 year
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Ohhh martin doyle has another book exclusively abt the economy systems revolving around ecosystem recover etc etc he talked abt that a few times throughout the source esp at the end ^_^
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anantaru · 4 months
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cw. enemies to lovers, rough fucking, mean wriothesley, mentions of "good girl" and "fucktoy", fem! reader
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you shouldn't adore wriothesley— nor look at him with those glowy eyes which occasionally manifest into a dazed glimmer when he finds himself in between your thighs after making your life a living hell— the arrogance of his person prickling through his entire facial expression that it made you sick to your stomach.
but those parted lips of yours, they made him go insane, and they're quite delicious if he was being honest.
wriothesley wonders how they'd feel tightly wrapped around his dripping cock— are you a soft sucker and get wet when his musky scent invades your nostrils? do you take your time like a good girl? or do you want him to sob hysterically as you harshly hollow your cheeks and swallow his cock until the tip of your nose tickles his base and your chin repeatedly hit his sore balls?
your mouth was hot against his skin and left him fully exposed— his lips quirking up against your face when he grinds his hips desperately with a rumbling hum, his expression sickly sweet with barely hidden amusement when your pussy instantly clenches down on him. the friction was near unbearable that your cunt made squelching noises that echoed through the animated hotness in the room.
"oh, wow," wriothesley whispers softly, his fingers clasping at the flesh of your thighs, keeping you steady and open, tongue laving wet into your mouth as he drags your arousal-slick walls back around to his own desperate erection twitching in you.
"you're already dripping wet," he pauses, his breathing uneven as his hands catch on either side of your sore body, thrusting into you as your back bends with a feline arch tilted upwards,
"i'm so flattered," he adds, "but you're so dirty, so fucking dirty,"
wriothesley points out the obvious, carefully pushing his cock through your walls rather than slamming it as he had intended, in fact— you cannot wait to make him pay for practically humiliating you with his choice of dirty talk.
considering that it even came to this point was unbelievably embarrassing if the duke wasn't this handsome.
although whenever he opens his mouth to speak, you could take back everything you said instantly.
"don't play dumb with me," he watches how you struggle, how you writhe beneath his large body and glance questionably up through lowered eyelashes.
but instead of answering, you continue to moan softly into his shoulder as he practically punches the air from your lungs while warming the deepest parts in your pussy, rolling his hips faster into your cunt and watching with pride how you're slowly turning into his little fucktoy.
"ahh.. shut it," you pant out, though it hardly distracts him from fucking the broad daylight out of you.
"come on," wriothesley demands, "don't you know when to quit denying that you do like all of this?"
he retorts and instantly manhandles your body and thrusts you back and forth like you're practically made out of nothing.
"yeah..." you whine, "won't give you— ah! fuck,"
your hands slip beneath his shoulders to hold him closer to soften the impact of the fast, teasing shoves on your cunt before you tease faint scratches on his back, your nails like searing daggers on his skin, setting him aflame.
he captures those swollen lips of yours in a filthy-wet kiss, slower and less violent than before that it made you flinch a little, tongues sliding hot and slick with near-pornographic promise, sweet tides of your melting liquids slicking around your thighs and the base of his cock, drying on your flesh and looking filthy.
denying yourself off this pleasure was no longer an option— because you enjoyed this, as much as he did, the air shifting between your bodies with rapid, shallow thrusts that the tension pulls so taut that you wonder how long your limbs would allow him to fuck through you.
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©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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lavellyne · 10 months
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just wanted to say, this is a safe space for any asexual and aromantic folks and anyone under these umbrella terms.
if you don't support aces/aros, demis or graysexuals please unfollow and leave me alone
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lavellynblr · 2 months
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how can you be a writer and use ai "art" that i will never comprehend...
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gildedkrone · 6 months
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KINKTOBER 2023 🔞
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Simon “Ghost” Riley sits with his back into the large lounge chair made specifically for his stature and size. The cushion cradles his worn body now christened with more bruises and scars from a recent mission as a lowly sigh slips past chapped lips.
Simon “Ghost” Riley gently spreads his thighs further apart when you come to a stop beside him. Your eyes search for permission and it’s written in his tired eyes to continue. He gets cold feet—so unlike him—when you sink to your knees and rest your hands on his thighs flanking you.
Simon “Ghost” Riley wonders how he has gotten into this situation. A few weeks ago when Soap badgered him about his sex life and preferences. He almost throttled the sergeant when he mentioned you are a good candidate for his giant dick. It’s true that he is well endowed; if the makers had a favourite, he is one of them.
Simon “Ghost” Riley has had his fair share of unpleasant sexual encounters where his partner would balk at the size of his dick. More than once, he feels objectified when his previous partners would reduce him down to nothing but the organ between his legs and on some occasions, they turned him down after seeing it. The resulting shame burns his face and the ensuing cigarette smoke works in a bid to calm his agitated nerves.
Simon “Ghost” Riley knows it’s been close to a month since his last encounter with his right hand under the spray of warm water in his private toilet and bath. His sex drive is a swarm of bees forming a nest in his consciousness and growing louder by the day until his control over his urges are waned sufficiently for them to take over.
Simon “Ghost” Riley nearly balks when you casually mention you are available—he knows you must’ve heard Soap’s talk. He considers turning it down, that is before you suggest something simple. No penetration; just your mouth and his dick. A kiss ending in pleasure and release for him between two men. He’s worked with you before and trusted you with his life on the battlefield.
Simon “Ghost” Riley takes a few weeks to accept and now, you’ve been summoned to his private quarters on the base. It’s sparsely decorated and he goes to unbuckle his belt if your hand hadn’t stopped him. Let me do it, you eyes say and he relinquishes the act. The belt clicks open and the zipper is drawn down before the whole garment is pulled down to his knees.
Simon “Ghost” Riley wears a simple pair of white cotton boxers for the occasion and he stiffens slightly when a hand gently cups his clothed package. When he’s feeling ready, he grunts at the feeling of wet warmth laving up his boxer briefs. He sees your head resting against his thigh and under the single tableside light, it paints your face something orange and warm.
Simon “Ghost” Riley sucks in a deep breath when he is sufficiently chubbed up from the ministrations of your mouth and the garment feels too tight for comfort; the obscene tent is proof enough. Your hands come to grasp the elastic waistband to pull down his boxers and he prepares himself for what always comes next.
“You’re beautiful, Simon.”
Simon “Ghost” Riley feels it’s a joke when his dick is exposed to the air. There’s no feelings of shame or disgust; there’s only a soft wonder in your eyes reserved for him. He grunts a little louder when fingers come to wrap around the shaft. All the time, your eyes remain in contact with his when he melts at the tentative strokes and squeezes of his engorged dick. Asking if he’s ready to continue.
Simon “Ghost” Riley nods and your response is wordless. A few more strokes has him standing proudly erect and a moan escapes without his permission when your mouth descends on his dick. The previous feeling of damp warmth is replaced with the wet, velvety heat gently making its way down from the head to the base of his dick.
Simon “Ghost” Riley wrestles the urge to slam your head into his pelvis to speed up the process. It feels blindingly good and his hand comes nowhere close to what he is feeling. He exhales roughly when you nose brushes against his groin—he dimly registers your lack of a gag reflex. Never before has anyone taken him fully and his dick agrees as well when it throbs with the unsatiated lust pooling in his groin in something shimmery.
Simon “Ghost” Riley moans when your head pulls upwards to stop at the tip and he groans when a tongue slips past delectable lips to lick at his slit. Nothing is overly sexual in nature, and you blow him a penile kiss as a shiver runs up his spine. The sensation of his balls being caressed gently only serves to make him even harder and his hips jump forward as he leans back further into the chair.
Simon “Ghost” Riley feels some sort of way when you take him again, this time, however, not fully with a hand at the base of his dick. His thoughts flee with his rationality when your mouth combines with the pleasurable message of his balls chockful of his month-old cum. He fights demons, fights gods, and himself to not mistreat your mouth as it brings him waves of pleasure in ever greater crests.
Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t a vocal man, but the ever growing grunts and groans are his way of showing how much he is enjoying this experience. The pace of the intimate act speeds up and his grip on the chair is leaving deep imprints into the material. It feels divine, the way his dick is encased in a cocoon of sinful sensations his hands and previous partners could never deliver.
Simon “Ghost” Riley rests a hand against your face as he feels the knot of pleasure building in his pelvis. Unlike his previous rough and hard experiences, this slowly growing knot ignites something fuzzy in him. It’s edges are soft and he can’t pinpoint exactly how it feels, just that it feels different in the best way possible and leaves him a lustful man seeking more of where it came from.
Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t used to the sensual and slower pace of sex you are taking him on and he feels his peak arriving far too quickly. He prides himself on having a stamina rivalling bulls and a self-control rigid as iron clasps. Under the assault of your mouth, however, he finds his defences failing him one by one as his body twitches and flexes with the sheer visceral pleasure thrumming through his core. All from that lascivious mouth also producing the obscene noises of the coupling he’s in.
Simon “Ghost” Riley’s lips aren’t his anymore as he bites out praises and words. "Y-yes, fuck, right there, baby" and "Y-yer doin' so, so fuckin' good" are several of your favourites as you work dutifully to bring the man the euphoria he so deserved. A “good f-fuckin’ boy” is motivation to get you to redouble your efforts and work to give him the best blowjob he will ever have in his life.
Simon “Ghost” Riley grits his teeth harshly when you hollow your cheeks to apply maximum contact against the angry and very ready organ in your mouth. The dance of pleasure nears its grand finale and he seeks permission to dirty your mouth. You squeeze his thigh gently with your free hand and he hips surge when the tongue brushes under the frenulum of the already sensitive head jamming into the back of your throat. Everything, from the air to the coarse feeling of the fabric on the seat serves to inflame the sensations he’s experiencing and further edge him.
Simon “Ghost” Riley is a man standing at the precipice of control and mid suck, you feel it; the telltale shudder of his dick and his sudden choked gasp of “close!” ends in a loud grunt when you sink fully down his dick and warmth floods your orifice. His orgasm hits him like a runaway freight train and he just sinks into the chair to ride out the sexual gratification mending into relief and euphoria at the edges of his perception.
Simon “Ghost” Riley gently strokes your hair and temple as he cums hard and unleashes a month’s worth of pent up ball batter into your throat greedily sucking and milking him for all he’s worth. The world narrows down into this instance of time where nothing matters. Nothing but his feelings catching up to blindside him in a mirage where his fingers intertwine with yours and the dam of emotions fully crumble under a release cathartic as divinity is all encompassing; he finds the waves of satiation lapping at his parched lips.
Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t a religious man by any means; his childhood is proof god has abandoned him. But this, this might have been his reward for overcoming his demons. Written by the deities of the stars and for him. Only him in the intimacy of his home with someone he trusted to experience the nirvana promised to him and every other man.
Simon “Ghost” Riley basks in the afterglow propping up his consciousness as his wrung out body is content to remain where it is while your mouth keeps his spent dick comfortable and warm. No stamina can ever compete with a release as monumental and with the kind of finality that robbed him of strength and left him strutless and fully relaxed.
Simon “Ghost” Riley wants to repay your act with pleasure when he spots the tightness of your combat pants. You shake your head and tell him tonight has been all about him and making him feel as good as he possibly can. He frowns when you insist but drops the topic when he feels warmth envelope his softening dick. There’s no urgency to do anything; he doesn’t feel capable of another round.
Simon “Ghost” Riley cups your cheek with rough, calloused fingers and lifts the balaclava up to his nose. He mouths, thank you.
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Do not edit, reupload or translate my works without prior consent || masterlist || kinktober masterlist
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xazse · 5 months
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AFAB!SUGURU GETO X OLDERMALE!READER
Notes: I wanted to hop on the Afab!Geto because I love it!
Tags: Deepthroating, manhandling, blowjobs, NASTY SMUTTT, mentions of Afab!Gojo (little surprise near the end
Pairings: Afab!Suguru Geto x OlderMale!Reader
Suguru doesn’t know how to feel about his next door neighbor: you, you’re very nice, maybe even more than nice: you insist on bringing him and satoru your cooked food if you’ve made too much some days, but hell he isn’t one to complain about free, warm food. You’re an older gentleman, late 30’s, a very nice hefty build on you, Suguru won’t lie and say he isn’t attracted to your prominent features; anyone would be.
He makes eyes at you sometimes, coming out to talk to you when you’re doing yardwork offering you a sweet concoction he made. You’re so polite with your speech, the way you carry yourself, everything about you screams maturity.
But he also loves your mean side, the side where your gripping his hair so tightly he knows he’ll have a headache later: but it’s so worth it when you shove his face towards your crotch, inhaling your scent, your cock isn’t even out and suguru’s head already feels like he’s on cloud nine.
His tongue weighs his mouth down as he waits for permission, permission to have your cock in all its glory.
“Fuck.. ple” he pleads with you, when you finally grant him the privilege, he hurriedly pulls your pants along with your underwear around your knees. You waste no time in shoving his face into your crotch again, his tongue laves all around your cock, seemingly having no control or care to give you specific pleasure. Licking up all traces of your precum has him so distracted that he doesn’t even hear you telling him to suck you properly until a heavy hand pulls him back: and forcing him to take you until the hilt.
He’s sputtering while you use his mouth as you please: pulling him all the way off just to fuck his throat all over again, it’s a repeated motion you do multiple times, before you pull him off of your cock and have him give your heavy balls some attention, he alternates between then but always making sure to give some attention to your tip in the process.
Suguru doesn’t even have to look down to know his panties are sopping wet, he wants so badly to reach down and play with his clit but you won’t allow that, that’s for you and you only to do. But finally, finally after a few more moments of Suguru pleasuring you do you have him face down, ass up. You pull his thin panties to the side, His cunt really was dripping wet, it embarrasses him when you point it out over and over calling him a dirty slut, smacking his ass to emphasize just how dirty he is and of course he groans.
You line your weeping tip up with his hole, making sure to use your tip to press on his clit a few times just for good measure youll tell him. The stretch of you pushing past him is too good, better than those lonely nights where he’d have to use his fingers to get a half assed orgasm if he can even call it that.
You give him a few moments to breathe, allowing him to have calmness before you wreck him and that you do, after a few of experiment strokes do you really give it to him.
Hammering into his cunt has him howling into the couch, his naughty pussy keeps sucking you back in everytime you pull out: suguru feels like he has a lack of air from the strong thrust of your hips, he whines and whines, you feel his pussy clench around you. You take a hold of his hips holding him in place while his cunt contracts around you and he’s cumming around you, he yelps and pleads while you help him ride it out slowly.
You both go still before your cock starts fucking into him again, suguru knows this will be a long night of you wringing orgasm after orgasm out of him.
Satoru really can’t sleep, he’s wide awake and painfully throbbing in his shorts, hearing the hard grunting from you paired with sugurus loud whining has him breathing hard. He doesn’t bother with underwear most nights so it’s rather easy for him to slide his fingers inbetween his slippery cunt,
he knows he shouldn’t indulge, knows he shouldn’t be touching himself like this especially to someone he’s so close with.
But he can’t help but rub his clit, a circle motion done over and over, he should really really stop, it’s gross, but his lust outweighs everything. Satoru has felt a little attraction towards you but compared to the way suguru looks at you: he’s got nothing on the table, but he’d also never get involved with sugurus relations. He keeps up with the circle motions but feels empty: so empty, trying to finger himself just isn’t doing it: satoru wants more, something bigger, he can’t do anything but pathetically try to get off: already feeling tears decorate his eyeline from frustration.
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angel-of-the-moons · 6 months
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Need Steven with a freak. Let’s say he’s been dating this girl for a while and he’s ready to take it to the next step. He’s super worried he’ll make you all uncomfortable and stuff when he asks but the next thing he know he’s being ridden till the break of dawn
(I’m ovulating I am so sorry-)
OMG SAMESIES AND I. AM. ✨FERAL✨ RN
Please
Steven Grant x Fem!Reader
TW/CW: Smut, just smut af, protected sex (implant), oral sex (m!receiving) creampie, overstimulation
MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME
A/N: This lil dress here is what I had in mind for the outfit in the start. (I'm a sucker for sunflower patterns)
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🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒
It had to be tonight. He just couldn't take it anymore. None of them could.
But Steven was the worst about his urges. He felt awkward and worried it would chase you away, the first girlfriend he ever got to finally have; all the others didn't understand his... Problems.
Problems he later learned were triggered by Marc (and in some cases, Jake), but you? You took them in stride, like a duck to water.
The moment he first saw you, his breath had been sucked right out of him. Marc and Jake went dead silent, too.
It was a gloomy, dreary day; the rain coming down in heavy droplets, casting a grim light down on the London streets.
But there you were, walking around the museum, looking at exhibits and scribbling notes in your tiny notebook with oh, so many post-its sticking out, fattening the tiny book until it looked close to bursting.
You were the only ray of sunshine on that day, your yellow dress that hugged your body just right, little sunflowers covering the fabric. Your hair done just the right way to accentuate your face as your eyes studied each artifact and bauble you saw.
To say the boys were instantly smitten was an understatement.
It took weeks of bumping into you to work up the courage to talk to you, and it was only when you came in to buy a rather dinky looking scarab plushie in the gift shop. It's this conversation where he finds out you're in school, trying to become an archaeologist and historian.
Steven's dream girl, and he had hearts in his eyes at every word you spoke.
He couldn't help but blubber out a request for a date, and you agreed.
The rest... History in the making.
You'd been dating for two months, but already he could feel the pull of urges he didn't necessarily indulge in often.
Sure, he, Marc and Jake could indulge in it themselves, trying to take the edge off. But sometimes it felt like the more he indulged in it, the more intense his fantasies got.
He simply couldn't keep tugging his cock for momentary relief anymore, imagining it was your soft hand, your mouth, your tits or something else wrapped around his cock that had him practically drooling: your sweet cunt.
But tonight? Tonight was the night. He was afraid to bring it up because he didn't want you to feel like he was moving too fast; and he could barely function when you admitted you were a little surprised he waited so long. (And teased him a little for how sometimes he just wasn't stealthy when trying to conceal a surprise boner.)
You'd told him that you thought about him too, and that you were more than willing to let him indulge.
But it was from there that you found out that Steven had never actually been intimate with anyone. Jake and Marc had, yes. But poor Steven has just never had the luck.
And that's how Steven found himself in this precarious situation, you on your knees, your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock as you bobbed your head so sweetly, tongue laving around his length, hollowing and sucking your cheeks with every drag, tracing the vein that ran up the side of him.
He couldn't stop with the babbling praises, the sweet petting in your hair.
Honestly, if you knew he was this weak? You'd have jumped his bones a lot sooner. Probably after the fourth or fifth date. It was rare you found someone who was intellectually a joy to talk to (not excluding Marc and Jake) who was so handsome and sweet to you.
One hand was thrust down into your panties, playing with yourself, dress hiked up so you could have better access as you continue sucking him off, the lewd sounds coming from both of you more suited to a pornography than the quiet air of his flat.
You could feel your orgasm cresting already, but you knew that you didn't want to just cum on your fingers like you had so many times before, you wanted to feel Steven inside of you and god did you want to drain him for everything he had.
Steven made a whine, babbling your name again.
"L-luv, I'm--I'm gonna--ugh--"
He couldn't even get the sentence out before you felt him spill down your throat, his hips bucking suddenly you gagged, carefully adjusting so you didn't choke as he pumped his load into your greedy mouth.
Well... you weren't surprised he didn't last very long...
He immediately started rattling off apologies that had you giggling.
God damn, you were going to enjoy draining him. Maybe Marc and Jake, too.
The blush that spread up to his ears made him look absolutely adorable.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" He stammered out, covering his face. "In--in your mouth, I--"
With the fluid grace of a cat you climb into his lap, straddling him.
You cup his cheeks and kiss him softly, before pulling away.
"You're alright." You assure him, peppering his adorable face with kisses.
It's when he squeezes your thighs and ruts up into you, his face buried in your neck that you realize he's still hard.
You bite your lip and kiss his ear.
"Steven, do you want me to ride you?"
"Ohgodsyesplease." He breathes out on a whimper.
You hastily line his cock up with your hole and sink down, taking him in inch by delicious inch until you're stretched beautifully around him.
You tip your head back with a groan. He certainly had girth for days, that was for sure.
"I'm... Already close. Can you help me?" You say, giving him a sweet pout that makes his heart jump up into his throat.
"Y-yes, I can--"
The way he keeps cutting himself off makes you want to cuddle him and cover him with kisses, but at the same time fuck him until his legs go numb.
Maybe you'd do the former later.
You pull his fingers into your mouth and he makes a soft moan when you suck his fingers, swirling your tongue around his calloused digits until you deemed them wet enough.
Then, you guide his hand down your body to your throbbing clit, and show him the rhythm that'd work for you best.
"Try to keep it in time with me, m'kay?" You groan, grinding down on him in one slow, languid movement.
His eyes roll back, but he nods and keeps his fingers over your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves in time with each downward stroke of your hips.
Every bit of him had you aching, from his electric touches to his fat cock spearing you open and fucking your weeping pussy in the best way possible, you kicked yourself mentally again for not bringing up sex sooner.
Steven's cock felt far better inside of you than your fingers or your toys at home. He felt hot, he felt real. And real is what you'd been lacking lately.
Whatever Steven would give you, you planned on taking happily. You would--
Your eyes flutter open when Steven suddenly arches his back and hits you deeper than you expected him to; opening your mouth in a quiet cry, no sound escapes as your orgasm hits you and Steven continues swiping at your clit, fucking you from below as you shudder and collapse on top of him as he continues breathing on the hot embers of your orgasm to keep it going for as long as possible.
"Please." He whines in your ear.
"Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease."
"In-inside--" You whimper, biting down on his shoulder, earning a toe-curling moan from him.
"You can do it inside."
He grits his teeth and let's out a hissing cry, veins popping in his neck and forehead as he fucks his spend up into you, his orgasm burning and flaying his nerves raw as he pumps you full.
He drops back onto the cushions of the couch and sofa, breathing hard, desperately trying to drag oxygen back into his lungs.
Reality however, is a cruel mistress and he looks down at where you two were connected.
"Oh, b-bloody hell. I--I didn't--"
"Relax, hon." You giggle, leaning back with one hand braced on one of his knees for support, your other hand trailing lazily down to where his cock still split you open, his cum leaking out around his length. The sight of you sent a dizzying spiral through him.
"I'm safe, promise. I have an implant. Still good for another three years."
The thought that he could keep doing this for three years--
His mind went blank when you grind down on his lap, feeling his cock stir to life despite the fact he was now exhausted.
"L-luv, I... I don't think I can..." He panted desperately.
Your brace your hands on his chest and start bouncing on his lap, grinning wickedly the whole time.
"I'm gonna keep going until I drain you dry, sweetheart. Get comfortable."
The gulp he made was audible in the space you shared, as was the sinful slap of skin on skin.
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sluttywonwoo · 3 days
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imagine tying joshua’s hands to the headboard of the bed and riding him i think he’d be a mess, or if you’re having a threesome with him and jeonghan and he’s tied to the headboard and has to watch jeonghan eat u out right in front of him
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“she tastes so good, shua…”
your boyfriend groans and mumbles something that sounds a lot like fuck you into the makeshift gag (your panties) that’s stuffed in his mouth.
his best friend just smirks and continues to tease you with his tongue like he didn’t hear him. jeonghan seems intent on torturing you both tonight— even though joshua is the one tied up.
your boyfriend’s best friend has his head between your legs, his mouth on your pussy, but he isn’t in any rush to make you cum. it’s evident in the way he avoids your clit almost entirely, only languidly laving his tongue over it like he’s bored when he does give it any attention.
still, you’re half convinced you could cum like this just from watching your boyfriend’s cock twitch and leak precum onto his stomach. hell, you could probably cum completely untouched if you listened to his whimpers and concentrated on the lustful resentment in his eyes.
you can tell he’s just as torn as you are. you know he wants to be the one eating you out, the one who’s going to fuck you tonight. but it’s also clear that he’s getting off on not being able to do just that, on having to watch his best friend take his place.
“don’t look at him, look at me,” jeonghan orders, forcing you to turn your chin to face him with a hand on your jaw. you hadn’t even realized he had stopped giving you head until he started talking again. you pout and he scoffs. “you’ll be able to look at him when i flip you over and fuck you from behind. but for now, you’re mine.”
instead of his mouth this time, jeonghan uses his hands. he grins wickedly as your lips part and your back arches off the mattress while he slips two long fingers inside of you.
“so wet… she always this wet?”
joshua mutters an answer that neither of you understand, tugging at the cuffs around his wrists in frustration.
jeonghan brushes him off. “tell me, baby, do you always get this wet?”
“y-yes,” you choke out.
he tsks. “aw, and here i thought i was special. guess i’ll just have to try harder, won’t i?” then he leans down over you, whispering loud enough for only you to hear. “you might be able to lie but your pussy can’t, baby. so when i’m done with you, i’ll know who you think is better. don’t worry.”
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crimsonbubble · 7 months
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cw. nsfw, afab!reader, strength kink, manhandling, mask kink, slight gear kink, nipple play *not proofread, just pure horny
[I don’t want to talk about the inspo for this fic]
kinktober masterlist
MINORS DNI!!
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The sudden thumps of his boots ricochet off the hardwood floors. He towers over you as you lay on the couch, staring up at him all doe-eyed and pretty. Ghost grabs your face. his fingers smoothing your cheeks together and making your lips pucker. "Not a word out of you. All I want is to hear you scream for me, understood?" You meekly nod in his grip.
Ghost forces your thighs open, slotting himself between them. He pays no mind to the ripping of your clothes, simply watching how you tremble. He can only push his military-issued pants so far before he's blocked by his thigh holsters. Though it's still enough to let his aching cock out, cum pearling on his tip. His gloved hands are rough on your skin, bound to leave you bruised from how hard he's gripping you.
Without a formal warning, Ghost hooks your legs over his elbows before pushing into you. The stretch burns, hot and ready as he sinks deeper under your skin. As much as you wished for just a second of reprieve, you knew that he wouldn't give it to you. You're clawing at his holsters so hard, you think they might rip. Ghost lands a quick smack to your cheeks, grabbing your face to look up at him. "Eyes on me, pet." His voice is hoarse, a deep baritone that touches the depth of your soul. Much like how his dick is reaching the depth of your soul too.
His touch was as rough as his voice, moulding and shaping you to be whatever he wanted, whatever he needed. And what he needed was a toy, an outlet. You were his favourite outlet, soft sand warm in all the right places. The tears streaming down your cheeks only fuel Ghost to push harder, pressing you into the couch and staking his claim as he paints your swollen cunt with his seed.
He doesn't stop after the first. His current need is to see your pretty clit twitching and covered in your mixed fluids. He wants to see the way your thighs quivered after the orgasms he's given you. Ghost watches your pretty tits bounce under the loose fabric of your shirt for a moment. Not a second later, the shirt is thrown somewhere else and it taters. He gropes your chest tightly, pinching and playing with your stiff nipples.
Ghost pulls his mask up his nose roughly, letting his warm tongue lave over your buds. Arching your back painfully he tugs at it with his teeth. The pleasure feels like an overdose, coursing through your veins with each pivoting thrust. Ghost's mind is hazy, all too busy thinking about how well you're taking him, how warm you feel and how much more he wants to do.
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