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#like i probably would barely touch the top hair i just don't know if i want to go to the trouble of buzzing the undercut
envy-of-the-apple · 2 months
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Dark!Naga!Gojo Satoru x reader x Dark!Naga!Geto Suguru
Top of the Food Chain
I've always wanted to continue my naga!mha fic but considering i dont write for deku+co anymore, i decided to move my au a couple fandoms over:D 1.8k wc
Part two
(Warnings: animal deaths, blood, obsession, dark content, slight gun threat but not rlly, polyamory, gender ambigious!reader) 
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Despite being here for nearly a week, you still don't think Satoru understood how delicate you are. 
He's overbearing, in that sense. Constantly poking and prodding and squeezing until your lungs give and you're forced to squeak. You can't blame him for not understanding. He's an animal, after all. Inhuman. Despite his skin and hair, the scales coating his tail give away just how different he is. He was probably born fighting, kicking, and screeching his way through the foliage, hunting, chewing, and biting. 
He's not like you when all you knew when you were younger was coddling and softness. You can see it in his scars, and bruises, and marks. 
Luckily, for you, Suguru had an inkling that you weren't made for sharp claws. 
It's not a fight, you can tell when they're fighting, it's more like a warning? A minor disagreement. Suguru hisses at the other naga, scrunching up his face, showing his teeth. Satoru is quick to respond, but a little more playful. Fortunately for you, the black-haired male seems to win the argument. Satoru's coils loosen around you. Air stops fighting its way to get into your lungs. 
You finally go lax in his hold. Satoru seems to enjoy that, dipping his head to bury his face into the base of his neck. The first few times he did that, you were afraid he was trying to bite off your jugular. Now, you think it's just another way he can soak up your body heat. 
Maybe you've been here for longer than a week. At this point, you couldn't really tell. Hope that you'd be found was starting to slowly fizzle away. The explosion had been massive. The ship had sunk in a matter of minutes. With a disaster that huge, you doubt anyone would still be looking for survivors. Especially on an uncharted island, where myth had turned into reality. 
 Satoru had been the one you'd woken up to. Washed ashore, barely conscious. You were half-certain he was planning on eating you with the way he held your leg, watching your muscles bend and turn. In his defense, he must have thought you were dead. Your shrill scream quickly convinced him otherwise. 
It was barely a fight. More or less, a pathetic kidnapping as he grabbed your body, slinging it over his shoulder. You've never remembered screaming and crying so loudly before, convinced you were about to be eaten. Suguru probably heard you before he saw you. 
Satoru's mate was a little less impressed with you. Back then, they didn't bother learning your tongue, speaking in hisses and snarls, unaware of your misery. Suguru's frown was glued on his face, but the naga never let you run away, always keeping a hand or a tail on you at all times. It was a rough first day; you didn't know they weren't interested in eating you until they tried to feed you. 
Things were much different back then Nowadays, they are a lot more considerate of yourself and your soft body. You think you've come to an understanding with these strange creatures. 
Suguru was the nicest out of the two. In that, you mean the least rough. Compared to his counterpart, he's a bit smaller, but that's not saying there's any real difference. If it comes down to it, you are more than certain he'd be able to kill you off as quickly as his mate. You thought he hated you, at first. Now, you think he has a hard time showing blatant affection. His touches typically come in the dead of night, when you're barely conscious. A clawed finger gently raking over your soft skin. Large hands sculpting your face. 
Satoru's eyes were the first thing you noticed about him. Glittering like blue sapphires. You had a feeling they weren't just for show. Time and time again he's proven that he can see better than Suguru could. He smiles a lot more, but you're starting to wonder if that expression translates across species. He can speak your tongue slightly better than Suguru could. It most likely has to do with his insistence on staying with you. The more time you spend with him, the more you have to say 'No' 'Don't touch there' 'Stop'. 
In the rare times you manage to escape their hold, you like watching them interact with each other. They often sunbathe for hours, lazing around hot rocks to soak in the heat. They like touching each other. Sometimes it's aggressive, like when Satoru chomps on Suguru's neck and you're suddenly much more aware of how careful he is with you. Other times it's: soft, unintentional, meaningless. Languid cuddling when you are finally able to braid Suguru's hair. 
At this point, you've surmised they won't eat you. At least, not for the moment. You don't exactly know what they think of you. Do they have the concept of pets in their worldview? Maybe that's the closest thing you can place yourself as, at least in their eyes. They must think you're helpless. To them, you have no claws, no fangs, no venom. They probably don't know you come from a species that's hunted others to extinction and currently burning down the planet. You must be the first time they've ever seen your kind, stripped away from your weapons, when you're the least dangerous. 
"You should be more scared of me, you know," you once whispered to Suguru in the dead of night.
He was dozing off, blearily keeping his eyes open to stare at your moving lips. There was a grunt behind you, and Satoru tightened his arms across your waist. Greedy for affection, even in his sleep.
"Humans are terrifying," you said, reaching out to touch, "top of the food chain."
Suguru had smiled at that. You found yourself smiling back.
"You're lucky I didn't have a gun on me. You probably don't even know what that is." It's dark humor to press two fingers into his forehead. Your way of coping maybe.
Or perhaps your actions prove that humans will always desire to be violent, no matter how perilous their fight may be.
"Bang." He leans into your touch, unafraid. Oblivious to the threat that you are.
You're guessing Satoru only let you go because of the food Suguru brought.
You're able to feel the ground again as he glides over to Suguru having just come back from a successful hunt. The carcass of the largest deer you've ever seen is slung across his back. The smell of blood already makes you nauseous. 
You think Suguru had been the most panicked when you refused to eat, clicking and cooing while he tried to force-feed you the bloody leg of a bear. Back then, your communication was even worse than it was now. You were smeared in crimson by the time he relented. Practically dripping in it. 
Now, Suguru knows you have different tastes than them. You're not a big fan of raw. The fish and the handful of berries are more than enough to sate you as you gather the items he's given in your hands. 
"Thank you," you say. You reach out, touching his face with warm fingers. He purrs into your touch. You smile. It's the least gratitude you can give him. After all, he's not asking for much. If they hadn't found you, you would have been dead long ago, or at least, significantly less weaker. It's the least you can do. 
For a moment, you delude yourself into thinking they were your pets. It'd certainly be easy too. They have little to no regard for personal boundaries, much like dogs. They're more animalistic than they are human. 
It's funny to think of these monsters as lovable pets.
"Thank you," Suguru repeats. You giggle. It's not like they actually understand you. It's simple mimicry. Like talking to a parrot. 
"Thank you!" Satoru chirps, never one to be left out. He pushes his mate out of the way, eager for your pets as well. Suguru hisses, but doesn't argue. You've learned they like to be scratched right there on the bottoms of their chins. 
Suguru's less obvious, but Satoru has no desire to pretend. He melts into you, practically slumping his weight into your weak hold. It's a little adorable actually. You give a little laugh. He seems even more pleased at that. 
They're fun to be around, but this can't last. You belong with other humans, far far away from this island. So far, you hadn't seen any boats in the horizon, but you hope one would come by soon. A plane would be even better. Close enough to give you hope. Maybe if you built a big enough fire, it'd reach someone eye. 
Hopefully, in just a few weeks, these creatures will be a very cherished memory. 
You frown when Satoru reaches over to grasp at your food, the meat specifically. You glare, moving away from his hold. He titters in clear disappointment. You hate seeing him sad but you already have so few food sources. It's best to conserve whatever you get. 
"No," you pointedly tell him, "It's mine. Mine." 
His frown deepens, and he opens his jaws to let his fangs pop out. 
"Mine," you repeat. 
He leans back, huffing. You laugh because you know his expression is more out of frustration than any actual anger. Again, animals. You pet his head in apology, before turning away. You'd have to start a tiny fire to start cooking. Raw fish is edible, but it's hardly desirable. 
A hand grabs yours, clawed, the grip is tight around your frail skin. When you look back, Satoru is staring at you. Eyes wide. Eager. 
"Mine," he says, but it's more like he's testing the word. Tasting it on his lips. 
You scoff, unamused. "That's my arm. Not yours." 
Satoru smiles. Sharp teeth. You suddenly remember he's a carnivore. 
He's slow when he draws you in, practically dragging you into his arms. You're used to his spontaneous hugs, tight and suffocating. You can't fight him off, so you typically wait until Suguru has enough of his behavior and drags him off you. 
"Mine," Satoru repeats. Alarm bells ring in your head but it's easy to brush them off. It's mimicry. They can't understand. It's like talking to a parrot. 
You feel the weight of the other naga at your back. His arms wrap around your waist, pushing you against Satoru's chest. You stiffen when Suguru's fangs lightly graze up your neck. Never quite punctures, but is terrifyingly close.
"Mine," Suguru says into your skin. 
You laugh again, but it comes out less hesitant. More airy. Amid their hold, a sudden thought comes to you.
If you weren't at the top of the food chain anymore, then who was?
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devilmademewriteit · 7 months
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If You Lie Down With Me
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pairing: (pre-ellie) dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader
summary: there’s only one guy in all of boston that can get you a morning after pill. unfortunately, on top of being a huge asshole, Joel Miller also happens to be your dad’s closest peer.
warnings: rough sex / smut (masturbation, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; unprotected sex; light choking & restraint; light dom/sub dynamic; fem afab reader; reader has long-ish hair (that gets touched); plot-typical violence (guns, death); plot deviations (no Tess); medication ingestion; pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel); dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, no explicit consent).
word count: 6.5k+
no use of y/n in this fic
alright y’all I’m baaaaAAAaack! so this is basically the other version of Dark But Just a Game that I started back when I was writing it & figured I’d finish it to get out of my hiatus. like any devilmademewriteit fic, it’s dark and nasty and deprived like meeeeeee <3 hope u enjoy !
don’t forget to reblog, check out my masterlist, sign up for the taglist, & leave any comments / feedback / & suggestions!
(ps: new part of Salvatore up next !)
“three times the guy I ever thought I would meet, so don't say you're over me when we both know that you lie”
— lana del rey, ‘If You Lie Down With Me’
Fuck.
Waking up to a racing heart, a pounding head, and a stomach swimming with nausea was never ideal, although it was always a better experience alone — when you could squint and hiss at the light slicing through the weaknesses in the drapes without hearing your groans echoed by a lower, louder, and annoyingly more pitiful voice.
Right. What was his name?
Jared? Jordan? Jermaine?
Ah, who cares.
If he’d wanted a safe place to nurse his hangover, he shouldn’t have fallen asleep in your bed. Sure, the odds of dad being conscious at this hour (especially the odds after a party like last night’s) were Kate Moss — no, Rolling Stones — slim, but the man would get up at some point, meaning that this poor J-whatever was likely sleeping through his only window of escape from certain homicide.
You whisper. You shake him gently. You gingerly tap the roundness of his bicep.
Huh — Not bad.
You congratulate last-night-you for reeling in this morning’s good-looking catch.
Still… nothing. Not a twitch. Nary a croaked ‘lemmesleep’ graces your ears.
After loosing an exasperated sigh and running through your options, you decide to take the most effective (and least girl-next-door) route. The corner of your elbow collides with his ribs, and the boy jumps up, his loose, blonde curls as wild as his eyes, searching the room for his attacker.
You want to smile at the scene, but the motion hurts your head.
“Y’gotta go,” you croak out, thumbs rubbing circles against your aching temples.
He collapses onto his back, copying your movement with his own fingers to his brow. “God. I feel like shit.”
Despite muttering your agreement, you let your eyelashes flutter closed and your weight turn you away from last night’s paramour: no use figuring out who he is after the (f)act — that just makes it personal.
After a few breaths, the boy moves back up to a shakey sitting position.
Probably sourcing for his clothes.
He reeks of booze and sex — but then again, so do you. His roughened, unfamiliar tenor climbs to barely above a whisper, “Z’something stuck on my leg… blood, or something…”
His interrupting your suffering comes as a deeply unwelcome annoyance, so you try to sort him out to clear him out: “Prolly just the condom,” you mumble, rolling back onto your shoulders, reluctantly supervising his movements.
He lifts up fully, sitting criss-cross and pulling his calf towards him.
“No,” he tries to laugh but succumbs to the nausea, settling for a low breath instead, “S’blood, dude, from beer darts — and I didn’t use a condom.”
Your eyes immediately dart over, settling on his naked, wretched, shivering form. He notices your ire and the hitching of your throat, immediately defensive.
“I asked if you wanted to.”
Unfortunately, he had. The memories of your drunken entanglement start to resurface inside your mind. “It just feels better without one.” This time, you curse last-night-you for being such a careless, inconsiderate, horny bastard.
You’re making problems for me, girl.
“J’s get out.”
J-whatever spares no time complying, collecting his few strewn belongings and staggering out the front door. Once it slides shut, so too do your poor, weary eyes.
Shit.
There goes the afternoon.
Getting your hands on condoms in the QZ was at least fifteen times easier than snatching a morning after pill. Those were a hot commodity, especially among the younger, less responsible crowds.
Luckily for you, as a member of aforementioned younger, less responsible crowds, you knew where your best chances lay in finding whatever it was you needed (if what you needed was deeply immoral or wholly illegal). Unluckily for you, that ‘best chance’ happened to be your dad’s closest and longest-running business partner: temperamental, judgemental, frustratingly competent, Joel ‘Local Asshole’ Miller.
But that could all be dealt with after another eight hours of sleep.
Opportunity strikes sooner than expected.
Miller’s in your living room by the time you wake up, the low rumble of his southern baritone recognizable even through the closed door. After scrambling to throw on some clothes, you press an ear to the chipping paint, hoping to determine the number of bodies gathered in your home.
Not many. Just Miller (and the old man, of course).
The latter’s presence bodes ill for you. This would all have to be done in secret, which was not an uncommon strategy where ever the former was involved. No one dealt with Joel Miller to conduct clean-cut, wholesome activities. No one was calling him up for a spare copy of the holy book.
No, getting him alone was essential.
A drink slams down on the counter. After a good, patient ten minutes, you hear your father (‘s rather crude way of) excusing himself to the washroom and heavy-set footsteps decrescendoing down the hall.
This is it.
You slip through the door.
At first, your company takes no notice of you, his eyes still glued to the maps and papers littering the counter before him.
Then, a low grumble: “fun night?”
His voice makes you weak in the knees — an involuntary, near ritual-like response you’d noticed around your mid teens and hadn’t managed to kick yet.
You swallow before responding. “Yes.”
It’s all you manage to muster. Miller finally looks up, wincing slightly as his back straightens. He looks tired, at least more than usual, with his wild, grey-streaked hair tousled and the lines by his mouth cutting deep into his skin.
You’re sure you don’t look much better, a suspicion proven by the man’s slowly spreading, barely-noticeable smirk. That gaze makes you self conscious, mute; your right hand snakes up, absent-mindedly dragging a fallen bra strap back to its proper position.
“So, what was his name?”
He’s teasing, sure, but Miller was there last night. He’d always had sharper perceptions than your father did, especially — and ironically — when it came to you. That skill tended to squander your confidence as the daughter of a modern-day mafia-boss and the owner of a hard, violent heart.
Rushed by the sound of your father’s footsteps, you default to honesty.
“I don’t remember.”
“Try.”
“Josh.”
Amusement flits across his stern expression. “Again.”
“Jamie.”
“Warmer.”
“J-J-something—”
“Gettin’ colder, sweetheart—”
“I need the pill.”
It just tumbles out, an exasperated, desperate plea. Miller, a bit taken aback by your candor, drains of his previous playfulness. You almost notice the split second those dark eyes glaze over. For a second, you’re almost convinced he’s distracted by his imagination’s recreations of the act that had you making such a request.
You almost notice the tingling between your thighs.
He stares. You stare back.
Fuck.
It was moments like this that made you wish Tess was still around. Oh, she wouldn’t be any kinder — no, not at all — but she’d certainly be more professional. Tess was all work, no play. Joel was…
You’re enjoying this, you bastard. You’re enjoying that I’m cornered like this, aren’t you?
The bathroom handle clicks when it turns, and your heart drops into your toes.
Maybe Miller really wasn’t going to help you. Maybe he didn’t have the pill and you’d just embarrassed yourself for nothing. Or, maybe he did, but preferred outing you to your dad at the very first opportunity — letting him deal with you the only way he knew how.
Your fears seem confirmed: his eyes leave the grace of your own, trailing back to his big, splayed hands on the countertop. Unwelcome tears burn the corners of your eyes as the panic begins to set in, as footsteps begin to fall…
“Mine. Tonight.”
It’s low and rushed, but it’s clear, cutting off to the sound of your father lumbering in. A man who saw, thought, and lived through transactions, he’s (thankfully) blissfully ignorant of the tension collapsing around him.
“Morning,” he throws your way.
A taunt, of course — it was well past noon.
You nod in acknowledgement, slowly backing into the doorway of your sacred, beckoning room. They resume their conversation from before, letting you sink into irrelevance.
Before shutting yourself in, you catch a few of Miller’s hushed words. They’re spoken casually to your father but, you later decide, surely meant for you:
“Not that one kid — Jeremy — don’t trust him.”
The door seals (well, not seals… it creaks on its rusty hinges and squeezes into its shrinking frame), and relief courses through you, reaching the very tips of your fingers.
That only lasts a minute.
Soon, you’re negotiating with the rising anxiety of being at Miller’s place alone, asking for his help with a problem that could’ve been avoided if you’d only kept your legs shut.
Alone with Miller, the both of you knowing that you hadn’t.
Crawling back under your covers, you begrudgingly make a vow of celibacy. If this was the cost of attention and a (potential) mid-range orgasm, you were about to become very frugal.
Dreams come easy, but they don’t come sweet.
Flashes of last night’s sins overlay Joel Miller’s unintelligible speech, his voice from the next room over lulling you into a rather confusing, disturbed sleep.
At nighttime, it’s a short walk to his building.
Down this alley, past this street, up this back stairwell. Part of being in with Boston’s seedy underbelly gained you access to the best and most up-to-date intel; by the age of twelve, you could run the safest — well, least policed — post-curfew routes from memory.
(Which had come in handy in situations a lot more dire than this.)
Sneaking in was easy, although you cursed him for being so preoccupied during the day. Coming in at this hour required some delicate maneuvers through a half-shattered window, and a less-than-graceful leap down left you with a nick on your cheekbone and a shallow cut along the side of your hand.
Thankfully, the blood mostly dries on your walk up the six or eight or ten flights of stairs. You don’t resent the exercise; it feels good to move, putting the jitters building in every still moment in abeyance.
Still moments like the kind that passes after a barely-audible, coded knock delivered by a girl sucking on the side of her hand, almost wishing for the door not to open.
It does.
He’s in jeans — dirty jeans, dusty — and a simple flannel. It’s Miller — it’s Miller at his most Joel-Miller-like-ness.
So why am I so fucking nervous?
He holds the door open, brows knitting at the sight of your hand in your mouth.
“Window,” You offer.
He mouthes a silent ‘ah,’ before leaning forward to duck his head out the door and, in the process, somewhat sandwiching you against his chest.
Maybe it’s because he smells like forest-fires, but your skin burns red-hot.
Miller looks both ways, checking the status of the hall (empty), then nudges you into the dim light of his place with the weight of his hand against your lower back.
The door shuts behind you.
You’d been here at least a million times before, but the thoughts rising now feel so… new. The jacket strewn on the side of the sagging sofa is his — Joel Miller has sat at this table and showered, slept, fucked inside these walls.
Cut it out. It’s just ‘cause you’re alone. And older.
But what about it, now that you were alone and older?
Old enough to know what goes on between a man and a woman and a little bit of desperation at just the right amounts… and there sure was a lot of him, and some desperation, too…
“Nervous?”
Your feet hit the floor, all thoughts evaporating at the sound of his word. Blushing, you try to de-code his taunt, spoken with playfulness and too much condescension.
“Wh — what’d you — nervous for what? No.”
He’s already across the room, sifting through a box of miscellaneous items. A yellowed lamp shade catches his side-profile, illuminates the smirk spreading across his face. Then, a low command:
“Relax,” and your spine settles, acceding to his wish. “Some girls get nervous, y’know, takin’ it the first time.”
Oh.
You clear your throat, daring to take a step into his place, incensed enough to trace the indents and stab-marks decorating his kitchen table.
“No.”
You’re taken aback by the accuracy and the strength underpinning your answer. It’s true, you aren’t afraid, and hadn’t been afraid of much in a very long while.
What’s a Joel Miller to your best friend’s public hanging? What’s he to a dozen rows of semi automatics raining down on your zigzagging toes? What’s he to a period cramp?
Like a bolt of lightning hitting you in the chest, that cocky, gauche and indelicate rebel you’d grown into reappears.
“I’ve been told I take things pretty well my first time.” The tension rises — this time, at your command — just as Joel does, carrying a leather pouch in his right hand. “And it’s not, anyways,” you add for good measure.
The leather drops onto the marked-up table. Joel crosses his arms.
“Not sellin’ me on givin’ you one of these, sweetheart.”
He gestures to the bag.
A mock-frown as you draw closer to him. His eyes, although severe, reflect the playfulness dancing in your own.
“Why not?” You ask, voice dripping with false innocence.
Joel’s gaze doesn’t stray as it hardens, focused on your own. “They’re for accidents, mistakes, attacks,” he explains, deep and dangerous, “Not girls who can’t keep their pretty lil’ legs together.”
Oof.
On one hand, it sounds like he’s genuinely chastising you for your careless behaviour. But, on the other, he sounds jealous, taunting, hungry.
I’ll play that hand.
Sleeping all day had left you wide awake, and that long-time, school-girl crush on the man before you was dying for content to fantasize about. Even if he pushed you off, you’d get to feel the weight of his hands on your body, right?
So, you return with a taunt of your own: “You think my legs are pretty?”
He shakes his head, his signature scowl spreading as he mostly ignores you. “I think you should at least use condoms,” a breath, “N’ know their first names.”
Ouch.
“I usually do.” you murmur, “and it broke last night.”
“Bullshit.”
“What do you mean, bullshit?”
Joel sighs and lowers himself into one of the four old, rickety chairs lining the table. His hand comes up to his temples and you notice how his legs, exhausted, part.
The man doesn’t deign to respond.
Irritation begins to well in your core, sneaking through your arms and up into your throat. The muscle in your jaw must be twitching like crazy.
How does he know? How the fuck does he always know?
Across the QZ, as a skilled liar and born and bred bandit, people tended to hold whatever image of you that you’d crafted for them.
Not Joel. Never Joel.
He saw through you in a way that had always felt… intimate. It was one of the reasons, you guessed, he didn’t dare spend too much time alone with you and why you’d always been curious about him (as a man, of course). Now, there was no avoiding your obvious vulnerability from either of you — you were stripped bare, your dressings in his hand.
It makes you want to flee as much as it makes you want to leap into his arms.
You snatch up the pouch, opening it up to find a mass of differently coloured and shaped pills. Rifling through, you ignore Joel’s stare boring into your hands’ erratic search.
“Yellow ones,” he says.
“I know what they look like,” you retort.
“‘Course you do.”
He moves faster than he should be able to.
One moment, your palm is slicing through the air, headed straight for the highest point of his cheek. The next, you’re facedown on the table. Your attacking hand is caged in by a much larger, much stronger one, pinned to the decaying wood; the other, he pins behind your back. Pills litter the floor — Joel’s boot crunches into a wayward one as he adjusts himself behind you, leaning over your struggling, smaller frame, immobilizing you with his weight.
“Let go of me—” you hiss, words smothered by the wooden surface pressed to your profile.
“—Shut up ‘n listen,” he commands, leaning over to tower over his trapped victim. “Try that again n’I’ll do worse’n kill you. Understand?”
Despite the authenticity of his threat, a strangled laugh wracks your lungs.
“Gonna turn me in for contraband, Miller? Watch them gun me down in the square?”
You smile through your heavy breaths. There, behind your hips, is a growing movement indicative of some other kind of punishment he’s got in mind.
“Or,” you continue on coyly, “Give me another reason to need that pill?”
Joel pauses, untangling your meaning.
Then, an exasperated scoff. His hold tightens on your wrist and you wince. “You always thinkin’ of the fastest way to get a man to fuck you?”
“Only when his cock’s pressed against my ass.”
He goes quiet — only for a moment. Somewhere outside, rounds echo through the night.
“Z’that what you want?” His voice is deep and threatening, promising of the kind of hard, mind-numbing fuck you’d been craving for weeks.
After a hard swallow, you nod, catching the raise of his eyebrows in your periphery.
A moment passes as he mulls over your answer. Only your shallow, anticipatory breaths populate the quiet space.
“Alright.”
And he lets go.
Heart racing, wrists aching, you flip around to his neutral, impenetrable expression.
“Get down on your knees.”
Without taking a moment to decide whether you’re living anything more than just a really fucked up dream, you sink to your knees, folding your hands in your lap (to stop them from shaking). Before you, Joel’s bulge twitches while he watches you yielding to submission, and you try to ignore the excitement building between your own two legs.
His eyes burn into yours: black, starved, weighty. He tells you to shut your own and you do, unable to resist the tone of his command. Within the self-imposed darkness, Joel’s following order — ‘open your mouth,’ — parts your lips as if they were under his spell. You wonder what you must look like to him, needy and ready to receive whatever you’re given.
He speaks again.
“Show me your tongue, angel.”
The gruffness punctuating his arousal doesn’t let you stand a chance. You let your mouth fall open wider.
Next, there’s rustling. You try to remember whether or not he’d had on a belt, listening and failing to hear the soft clinks of a buckle coming undone.
Too soon, something wraps around your chin — thick, calloused fingers — and the pressure of a thumb running down the middle of your tongue sends a rush of electricity down every stacked vertebrae. It’s slow, tantalizingly slow, as if the man were trying to memorize the feel of every groove, ridge, and bud on his leisurely way out.
When Joel drops his hand, a small weight remains at the back of your throat.
“Close.”
You do, opening your eyes to meet his own: severe and wanting — or wanting for severity?
It’s a pill. That much is obvious once the taste begins to spread, bitter and chemical and totally gag-worthy. He follows up with ‘swallow’ for his own sick enjoyment; by the time he says it, it’s clear that you already have.
What kind of game is this, Miller?
Your cheeks burn when your company kneels down. He places his big, broad hand partly on your neck, partly to the side of your jaw, and you’re still too taken aback to tear it off. The feel of his rough palm against your racing pulse silences every urge to enact revenge. Words don’t come — too quickly forgotten on one’s knees.
“You’re way too easy for your own good, sweetheart,” he near-whispers, shooting to kill in a blow packed tight with condescension. “Don’t let me see you here again.”
And that’s it: your cue to get lost.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Miller pulls away from your reddening skin, straightening to stand. You follow suit soon after, heart pumping lead, tongue bruised by the memory of his touch (more overwhelming than the metallic residue dripping down your throat).
He turns, running a few fingers through his hair. It’s the last look you get before resigning yourself to the journey back home.
Still, before turning the rusted handle, in a brief moment of respite, of clarity, you seize the final word:
“I’m only ‘easy’ when I’m drunk. Or interested.”
Silence courses through the room as Joel registers the meaning behind your confession.
“Goodnight, Miller.”
With that, you see yourself into the hallway, checking its status before tearing into the stairwell.
You barely breathe.
He wanted me — he had to have wanted me.
Miller was a pragmatic player; surely, he’d only bother to play with toys he liked like that… right?
Right?
Unable to clear your head or cool the heat radiating through your core, you take the long way home, the distant sounds of a war between rivals soothing the cacophony of noise swimming between your ears.
For the next two weeks, all you’re able to think about is him.
You think about him when he’s gone and when he’s in the room, grumbling in hushed tones to your father. You think about him when you’re unable to fall asleep, letting your hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, imagining your own fingers as thick, tan ones running through the warmth between your legs.
He takes no notice of you — a fact you deeply resent. Even in your skimpiest clothing, he’s like a damn horse with blinders on. You decide, in the past weeks, he’d either acquired the patience of Job or purged every sinful craving from his system when he’d stuck his fingers down your throat.
Naturally, you’re more than happy when, at breakfast (two in the afternoon), your father gives you the heads up about tonight’s gathering at the Bar (which was really just an asbestos-ridden basement equipped with enough prohibition-style gadgets and architecture to host a good ‘strategic meeting’ every other month).
“Everyone’s gonna be there,” he mumbles. “Need you to keep your ears open. Had to take a couple rats out last week…”
Everyone’s gonna be there.
Smiling to yourself, your thoughts start to spin out. Business, distractions, booze. Tonight would host a million opportunities for you to get him alone.
Hope blooms through your chest.
Do your worst, Miller.
“Man, I wish we could’ve experienced cocktails. Straight hooch is ass.”
A peer named Mel, just a year older than yourself, cringes as she sips on whatever murky liquor’s found its way into her cup.
You don’t mind the taste so much, having grown mostly immune to its taste and burn. In fact, you’d come to welcome the subsequent lapse in breath and judgement.
There was little else in this world that made you feel alive.
“Mhm,” you respond absent-mindedly, looking for a familiar scowl among the mass of scowls peppering the crowd.
A sigh to your right. “Always awesome, having your attention.”
The criticism snaps you back into your body. You smile sheepishly at your friend, apologizing through a wince.
She shrugs, her raggedy, pin-decorated jacket jingling with the movement. “S’okay. Known you long enough to know that look.”
For that, she receives a quizzical glance.
Mel comes back with a scoff. “No victims tonight?”
“Oh god,” you shoot her a look of disgust. “Do you mind not using such weird vocabulary? Make me sound like a predator.”
As the words tumble out, you zero in on the object of your search. There he is: eyebrows knit together in concentration, drink in hand, unsurprisingly (and annoyingly) in conversation with your father. A few other stragglers are in the mix, too, but they’re easily overlooked. Time slows to a full stop in his wake —only for the briefest of seconds —
“Well since the last guy actually wound up dead a week later, I think it’s fitting.”
Once again, Mel’s managed to wrangle your interest.
You stare blankly into her onyx eyes, ringlets falling through molasses around her face. “Jeremy?”
And she’s bewildered. “You didn’t hear?”
This time, both of your heads turn in the same direction.
“Ratted to FEDRA about the storehouse off tenth,” she explains, gesturing towards Miller and your father with a tilt of her head. Famous for her bravery, she stoops into your shoulder, averting his gaze and speaking under her breath, “Judging by the way they found him, my guess is it was mostly Miller’s stuff.”
It’s as if she’d screamed it.
The subject of your conversation turns to face you right as your company’s words drift off. Despite the level of noise, the amount of people, and the cloudiness of the air, you’re trapped in the corridor of your mutual stare, cornered.
The challenge, the knowing marking his expression.
“I need some air.”
You twist into the body standing behind you, shoving row after row of criminal scum out of the way. Mel doesn’t follow — she’d never hung around to comfort you, only to inform you. A mutual, typical relationship for the age, and just how things worked in the QZ.
You slam into the door, stomping into a deserted, silent alley, empty save for a few drunk strays. Your lips begin to tingle and a scream builds inside your lungs. Stalking blindly into the night, unsure of your direction, alone in half a top and a plain, ass-length skirt, shivering despite the warmth of the air…
You’re practically begging for trouble.
Just as your eyes catch the numbers on the old, rusted street sign above, just as you realize you’re on a monitored street tonight, only safe after curfew every other Monday and Wednesday, you’re grabbed by the waist, pulled into the space between two buildings, and shoved into a sheltered nook.
A dim, yellow light clicks on automatically. There’s a door (chained closed) leading into the building to your left and darkness to your right.
And there’s Joel Miller above you, his expression indeterminable.
“You asshole,” you barely hear yourself breathe over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears before lunging forward in a useless attempt to, once again, strike his profile.
He catches your wrist, no doubt having anticipated the attack. It’s written on your face, in your eyes, in your shallow, uneven inhalations. He takes your other hand before you’ve even thought to use it, lifting it above your head and slamming it against the old stucco behind you.
“You’re violent,” he says flatly.
He tightens his hold when you struggle against it. “Proud of yourself, yeah? You’re a killer.”
That inspires a slight smirk. You half expect him to return with an ‘as if you didn’t already know that.’
Instead, he says, “Sweetheart, you didn’t even know his name.”
“You should’ve told me.”
And that’s the real source of this anger: it’s rage at being the last to know.
And for what? To protect your feelings? Since when had anyone in your life bothered to do that?
“And don’t call me ‘sweetheart’,” you add for good measure.
You’d wanted him to touch you so badly for weeks now, but here, scorned at being left in the dark and confused at the death of a paramour, you only want to get free.
“And what’d he call you?” He spits, leaning down and in, inadvertently pressing his thigh between your legs — when his breath grazes the skin of your ear, it causes them to part (against your better judgement). “Got lots of names, right?” He continues to tease, “Heard your boyfriend’s pretty one for you before I shut him up — ‘that fuckin’ slut,’ f’I’m rememberin’ right.”
Despite your rage-shakes, you’re warming at the core, Joel’s pressure against it dizzying your already-addled head. It confuses you, makes the scorn easier to access.
“How did I come up, Miller?” You exhale, jutting your chin towards him. “Couldn’t help asking for all the dirty little details, could you?”
He smiles, and the act lacks any sort of kindness. “‘Lot easier gettin’ him alone once he thought he was meetin’ you.” Joel slams your wrist harder into the wall when you try to wriggle away. “Not sure you wanna keep making that kind of impression, angel.”
It’s hard to rationalize with him so close, as his pet-names echoe inside your head. He’d used your name to enact gang-law violence on a boy who’d been inside you, and yet, all you can think, all you can hear, is the way ‘sweetheart’ sounds tumbling off his lips.
“Fucking let me go, Miller,” you manage to exasperate, resenting the begging edge to every word. “I don’t need another abstinence lecture from you.”
Kicking one ankle off balance, Joel turns you around, pressing your stomach to the wall, your back into his chest. Ignoring your whines and pitiful struggle, he wraps a free hand around your neck, pushing your head against his collarbone. Your stomach erupts with butterflies as the rough pad of his thumb traces the front of your throat.
Yes — no — yes, he wants me — no, no, this is wrong, this is so wrong —
“‘Be wasted on you, anyways,” he says, rough and earnest, like his hand sliding down your chest, your breasts, your stomach, “Startin’ to realize if I can’t fix your dad’s mistakes…” and he’s finding the hem of your skirt and yanking it up, bunching the fabric around your hips —
“Might as well take advantage of them.”
He moves hungrily. He’s everywhere, sliding into your underwear and across your breasts, his big arms and suffocating biceps enveloping your entire frame.
“Joel—”
But he claps a hand over your mouth, silencing any hope of your pleas being effective.
“Think I haven’t seen you? Your lil’ looks…” a low laugh, “n’ those fuckin’ clothes?” God, the rumble, the sheer want in his voice hammers at your initial resistance, and you feel yourself welcoming the feel of his thick, long fingers, sliding between your wet folds. You’re clay, melting against the curved, firm wall of his chest.
You mewl pathetically into his palm.
Another low laugh wracks his lungs, dances at the top of your ear.
“Knew you’d be this wet for me.”
“Knew since you got down on your knees,” Joel continues, uncovering your mouth only to ease a few fingers between your lips — lips that part as though commanded, and a mouth that welcomes and caresses whatever it receives, “‘N opened this pretty lil’ mouth for me to fuck it. Can’t close my eyes without seein’ you like that — so fuckin’ needy.” He exhales from between his teeth, signalling his approval while you suck him down to the knuckles.
His fingers tease your clit and you give him your thanks by pleasuring those of his other hand.
When his hands move, it’s to hold you steady and balanced as he drags your underwear down your legs. That thick, heavy cloud of arousal hides any and all rational thoughts from view.
And he knows. He knows you’re past the point of no return, restraining you only out of his desire to rather than out of a real need to. He knows from the whine you breathe at the loss of his hand against your clit, moving to work at his belt buckle instead.
“Gonna use a condom?” You breathe, emboldened by your clearing senses at the temporary lack of stimulation.
At first, you think he’s missed your taunt.
He backs up, pulling your hips along with him until the tips of your fingers are no longer touching the decaying wall before you. Joel pulls you upright and against him with an arm around your waist and a hand around your throat, turning your head and tilting it back to meet your eyes.
You grasp onto his forearms, failing to stand, unable to breathe. His hardness digs into your back, and his cruel eyes show you just how much pleasure he takes in your struggle.
“Don’t like to waste ‘em,” he finally answers, rocking his cock against your spine, “But I will if you beg. You gonna beg?”
He manipulates your answer, fingers moving to your red-hot core — he barely grazes the nerves, only dancing over the needy flesh. You can’t tear your eyes from him either, tethered to your body through his gaze.
Joel Miller was a frustrating lover.
“N-no,” is your answer, slightly strangled and softly stuttered.
He smiles. “S’what I thought.” Then, “Show me what you can do, angel,” he coos, lips just inches away from yours, his hold on your body relaxing —
“Use your pretty lil’ hands n’ put my cock where you want it most.”
And you both know exactly where that is.
After a nod, Joel allows you to bend forward slowly — it’s like moving through honey. Your legs burn with effort as you reach between your legs to wrap a hand around his thick, hard length.
Christ, he’s huge.
He groans when you touch him and uses his own hand to help guide his tip between your folds. One hand holds your waist, fingers extended under your ribs to support your weight in a skilled show of experience.
With his tip at your aching entrance, you try to lean back, to slide yourself slowly down his many inches.
But Joel doesn’t allow it.
He pushes into you in one go, clicking his tongue at your strangled gasp —
The man hadn’t even bothered to open you up with his fingers.
“Ah, c’mon,” he condescends, “You can take it.”
Then he’s setting a hard pace, hands moving from your hips to your ribs to your biceps to your hair to your neck — anywhere he wanted to go, he went. One eventually comes to the front of your throat, tilting your eyes back and up towards the ceiling. Every one of his thrusts arches your back further until you’re contorting into a half-moon shape, standing only by the grace of his support.
And it feels so good. Joel fills you up to the brim, takes you to heaven and floods your ears with hymns, punishes you in the kind of way you’d only experienced in dreams.
Words tumble out, but they’re filled with nothingness. “Joel,” “fuck,” and “yesohgodyes,” quickly become staples of your vocabulary.
He laughs whenever you sob, grows harder every time you moan, restrains you when you try to run away.
The hand around your throat tightens, digging unforgivably into the flesh as you start to let go, as your walls begin to clench and flutter appreciatively around his cock.
“M’I making you happy, sweetheart? My cock making you smile?” He asks gruffly, pulling you back into his chest. Joel readjusts you into whatever shape you need to be in at the new angle, hips still slamming into your ass. Struggling to stand on your tiptoes, he steadies you with his arms and his hand on your jaw, forcing you to look up into his rugged face.
“Mmhm,” is all you can offer him, the pitch jumping up halfway through when the head of his cock grazes that perfect spot inside your cunt.
He doesn’t let up.
“Show me, baby—” he commands, out of breath, too, but not nearly as tortured as you, “—Show me your smile.”
You do your best, smiling up at him, degrading yourself even more at the hands of Joel-fucking-Miller. And he eats it up, loves the way your grin turns into a bitten lip and knit eyebrows over closed eyes, slowing his thrusts to rock even deeper inside you.
You moan something unintelligible, and a laugh rustles through your tangled hair.
“Am I makin’ you come?”
You nod, feeling that familiar rush of pressure blooming somewhere within that throbbing bundle of nerves under his spell.
He smirks in pride and victory, the last look you get before your head falls against his shoulder, your muscles going lax as the peak builds, as your half-sobs grow louder.
“S’it, baby, tell ‘em,” he coos, nipping and sucking the skin on the side of your throat. “Gonna tell the whole street how you take it like a good lil’ slut.”
His fingers fall to your clit, enticing you right over the edge. You vision blurs and your legs shake, but Joel talks you through your orgasm, sweet nothings starting with, “S’right — show me — yes, fuck — good girl…”
And then —
He stops.
You whine, stars dancing before your eyes as the mean, mean man inside you refuses to fuck you through your climax.
“Joel,” you plead, grinding back against him in a pathetic show of need, “Come with me.”
He does the opposite, sliding himself out of your sore opening. You turn to face him, restoring your balance with hands against his chest, gazing up at him in desire-stricken reproach.
“Use your mouth,” he says, voice gruff at your ruined sight and from his own hand on his cock, keeping his arousal level, “Not gettin’ any more help from me.”
It’s unclear whether ‘help’ means pills or his cock, but you assume both to be safe.
You try to argue (having spent the last few weeks dreaming of Joel dripping down your legs) but he just won’t budge.
Then, his voice softens.
“You know your dad’d kill me, angel.”
And it’s really the sweetness of his tone that does it.
Sinking to your knees, it’s déjà vu when you open wide for him, steadying your shaking knees with both hands on his half clothed, half naked hips. Gravel and debris dig painfully into your bare knees, but you ignore the sting, smiling instead at the taste of yourself on Joel’s cock, lips sliding adoringly down the thick length of it.
He groans his approval, tangling his fingers in your hair to help guide your movements.
As you take him in again and again and again, pleasing every inch of him, he chokes out a laugh.
“Never seen you so quiet,” he muses (mostly to himself), caressing your cheekbone with his free hand —
“Gagged by an old man’s cock.”
You pull off, pumping him with both hands, asking breathlessly, “Are you all so big?”
He smiles, eyes darkening at the dirty compliment. “Give you a few numbers n’ you can tell me.”
God, he’s beautiful from down here.
You hold his attention and lick a slow stripe down the underside of his cock, half-grinning up at his lust-filled expression.
“I only want yours, Joel Miller.”
An uneasy inhale as you take him back in, his brows furrowing and his cock growing impossibly harder. Your words please him, he returns by groaning orders and praises like: “S’all yours, baby — take it all — take aaall that dick — good fuckin’ girl.”
He’s so close and you know it, moaning in submission at his hand’s pressure against the back of your head. With your nose crunched into his abdomen, you hold your throat open for him to use it however he pleases — reduced to nothing more than the man’s plaything.
There’s a low “ah, fuck,” from above, and then you finally know what Joel Miller tastes like.
It’s better than the Plan B.
You hear nothing beyond his recovering breaths, feel nothing past pride, lust, and exhaustion.
Eventually, he loosens his grip. You pull off of him delicately, drawing a groan from between his gritted teeth when you make sure to suck every last drop of his seed into your mouth.
Sitting back on your ankles, you roll your head up to face him.
He swipes a thumb under your lips, clearing the saliva connecting you to his softening cock.
“Still mad at me?” He asks.
You’d be crazy to say yes.
“Only for pulling out.”
You note the twitch at the corner of his mustache.
Joel helps you back on your feet, using one hand to pull you up by your arm and another to arrange himself back to decency.
You adjust your shirt; Joel fixes your skirt. It’s a strange kind of silence settling inside this pocket at the side of a random, ruined building.
Then, your company clears his throat, that mask of seriousness falling over his expression once again.
“You gonna be smart?”
What ever could he mean?
Stay away from him? Stay away from men? Practice abstinence? Use protection?
Either way, you’re not one to make promises you know you can’t keep.
You cross your arms.
“No.”
He sighs.
Well, looks like things are already back to normal.
His face softens and he shakes his head, already regretting his next words. “Just — just come find me, then. I won’t do… this again, but — but I’ll help.”
You frown.
“What do you mean, ‘this’?”
He stares down into your accusatory eyes with a look you’d received many times from him, one screaming, “get real.”
“Fine,” you mutter, breaking eye-contact, “Thank you.”
With a stoic nod, he walks around you, heading back into the night. You try, in vain, to watch him go in silence — god knows you had some thinking to get to — and find that, instead of getting it out of your system, the entanglement had only left you wanting for more.
And more and more.
“Is this what you meant?” and you hear his footsteps halt, “When you told me you’d do worse than kill me? When I tried to hit you?”
It comes out before you can help it, and you twist around to face his still, broad shoulders.
You can hear the smile teasing his lips as he utters the words.
“Why are you askin’ me that?”
Still facing his back, you break into a smile of your own. “So I’ll know what I have to do to get you to do it again.”
You watch him shake his head, grey-streaked ripples in the low light.
“Try your best not to find out, angel.”
With that, he disappears into the darkness, leaving you in the flickering doorway. Thighs aching, heart racing, you take a deep breath, trying to memorize the feeling of what it felt to have them taken from you by Joel Miller.
A feeling you’d chase.
Put your red boots on
Baby, giddy up
Baby wants a dance
Baby gets her way
Dreamy nights
Talk to me with that whiskey breath
Twirl me twice
I'll treat you like a holiday
And don't say you're over me
When we both know that you ain't
Don't say you're over me
Baby, it's already too late
Just do what you do best with me
Dance me all around the room
Spin me like a ballerina, super high
Dance me all around the moon
Light me up like the 4th of July
Once, twice, three times
The guy I ever thought I would meet, so
Don't say you're over me
When we both know that you lie
If you lie down right next to me
Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie
If you lie down right next to me
Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie
When you lie down right next to me
Get your jacket on
Be a gentleman
Get into your truck
And pick me up at eight
'Cause we were built for
The long haul freight train
Burnt by fire
Without trial like a stowaway
And don't say you're over me
When they all know that you ain't
If you lay down right next to me
Dance me all around the room
Spin me like ballerina super high
Dance me all around the moon
Like six times 'til I'm sick and I cry
Once, twice, three times
The guy I ever thought I would meet, so
Don't say you're over me
When they all know that you're lying
If you lie down right next to me
Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie
Lie, you lie
If you lie down right next to me
Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie, lie
Lie, you lie
When you lie down right next to me
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viixenvi · 2 months
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𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐲 | 18+
Summary: You and Spence have just come back from an amazing date, he watches you undress to change and it makes him very flustered. You notice he has a boner, and since he's not very experienced, you decide to help him through it.
Characters: Sub!Spencer Reid x Dom!Fem!Reader
Warnings: Smut, dom/sub, oral (M receiving), praise kink, teasing, begging
A/N: Would you all like it if I made another like this but the reader has a mommy kink?
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Your feet were killing you, the heels you wore had not been broken in yet so they still felt uncomfortable. It was worth it, the night had gone very well.
Spencer took you out to a very nice restaurant, though you two barely ate any of the food, it was still nice. You both decided it was probably better to have ice cream and walk in the park. Now you were home and Spencer was watching you.
"That was nice, minus the tiny food portions at the restaurant," You joke. Spencer laughs as he takes his shoes off and places them on the floor.
"We should have picked that underwater experience. Did you know they actually show you around twenty different species of sharks? There are more than 500 species all of them having unique characteristics and behaviors." You smile as he explains the types of sharks there are.
He loved talking about sharks, his fixation on them started when you mentioned you like sharks on your first date with him. You adored how much he wanted to impress you with these facts he knew.
"Baby, can you help me with this?" You point to the zipper of your dress. You walk over to where he is sitting and he pulls the zipper down. "Thank you, sweetheart." You see his big grin in the mirror. You can't help but just find him so cute.
His eyes are fixated on you as you slip the dress off. He's seen you naked before but it doesn't stop him from still being mesmerized every time.
"Like what you see?" You tease, pulling your bra off. His face goes red as he looks away.
"Y-You just look very pretty," He admits. He's so flustered and doesn't know what to do other than look at his hands.
You turn towards him, walking up slowly and putting two fingers under his chin. You push up and make him look at you. "What's wrong baby? Why so flustered?"
His eyes look from your lips to your eyes. You smile at him, leaning in and kissing his lips softly. "Do you need help undressing," He asks nervously. You can't help but giggle. He's still nervous to ask you these things like you'd ever say no to him.
You guide his right hand to your panties, pushing two of his fingers on top to pull them down. He watches you do this, waiting for you to guide him more. "Go ahead baby, take them off for me," You whisper, your hand running through his hair.
He bites his bottom lip, pulling your panties down and smiling up at you when they are off and in his hands.
Spencer looks back at your body, everything is in full view and it is all just so captivating. He can't keep his eyes off you, thinking of all the things you can do to him. He's not shy about wanting to be dominated, but he is shy about asking for it.
You radiate dom energy and he loves it, he just wants you to control him. Make him a good boy for you. Now all he can feel is the very obvious bulge in his pants.
"Please," He looks down at his crotch. You follow his gaze and smirk when you see it. You haven't even done anything other than let him help you undress and he's hard.
"Please what baby? I can't help you if I don't know what you need," you tell him, caressing his face with your hand. He leans into your touch and looks up at you.
"Please touch me," He pulls your other hand to his bulge. You are surprised by the action but you still squeeze it. He lets out a small gasp at the new feeling. Now wanting more, he pushes his hips up slightly for more.
Your hand moves from his pants to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. You throw it onto the floor and get on top of him. Your legs are on both sides of him and you are sitting directly over his hard cock that is still covered by his boxers and pants.
He looks at you with love in his eyes, everything you do to him makes him excited and wanting more. Your lips connect with his neck and you kiss down it. His hands are on your hips gripping them while he closes his eyes.
Your lips are soft on his skin as you kiss down his chest. He lets out gasps of air when you get to the space right above his pants. You reach up, unzipping them and getting off of him to pull them down. You easily pull the boxers down as well, leaving him exposed to you.
He watches you, propping himself up by his elbows. You get on your knees and lean against his legs, your hands on his thighs. "You look so pretty, baby," You whisper as you reach over to his hard cock. The pad of your thumb runs over his tip and precum leaks out.
He whines wanting you to touch him even more. You smile at him and wrap your whole hand around his cock. You tease him a bit, slowly pulling your hand up and down his shaft. He can't help but let out moans.
"More," he begs you. You gladly give him what he wants, and you push him down so he's lying back. Your lips meet with his tip and you lick over it just to see his reaction. His body jolts at the new feeling.
You continue, your tongue licking down to the base then all the way back up. He moans as you take in all of his cock, your mouth being warm around him.
His cock hits the back of your throat as you bob your head up and down finding a good pace to stay at. Spencer moans loudly, gripping the sheets as he tries to keep his legs from shaking.
The pleasure is coursing through him, he loves the feeling of your throat tightening around him. He knows he can't take much more before he cums. The feeling built up in his stomach.
You can sense he's close so you pull your mouth off with a 'pop'. Spencer whines at the loss of warmth and pleasure he was just feeling. He wants it back. His hands reach down to his still-hard cock, trying to re-create the feeling you had just taken away from him.
You push his hand away and he gets back on his elbows to look at you. "Why'd you stop?" he asks shyly.
"Should I let you cum?" You ask him. He lets out a whine as your hand goes up and down his shaft. He moans bucking his hips forward as his orgasm is nearing closer.
"Please! Please let me cum!" he begs you desperately. Your mouth meets with his dick again, and you suck on it while pushing down taking it to the base. You tighten your throat around his cock, staying like that for a moment.
That's all Spencer needs before his orgasm hits him with full force. His legs start to shake as he throws his head back with moans filling the otherwise silent room.
His cum hits the back of your throat as you pull your head up. He's gripping the sheets the high of the orgasm still hitting him. When the cum stops shooting out you pull off his cock and stand up.
You sit on his lap, pulling him in for a kiss. The cum in your mouth is being pushed into his as you pull away from the sloppy kiss. Spencer's eyes are still foggy, he's in a little bit of a haze from having an orgasm, this was only his third time ever.
"Such a pretty boy," You whisper to him, admiring his face. He blushes, pushing his face against your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist.
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tenkomura · 4 months
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Born For Porn (Yuji Itadori x F!Reader)
Mdni!! 18+ // Part 2 (Part 1)
Tw: dark content: incest/stepcest (unspecified), sex work, toxic, soft yandere, mastrubation, first time using a dildo, virgin!reader, squirting, jealousy, money problems
Teaser: “I know why I'm doing it. It is to help you. If people want to judge me for that, I don't care. When you do underground boxing for money and get hurt–,” you reach out and touch Yuji's scar. “Is it any different? You also sell your body. And besides this doesn't get posted… it's just for the guy.”
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You are sitting on the couch with wet hair and barely dried off.
That DM shocked you both. And now you have to decide what you will do about it.
“We said we just take pics and some harmless videos,” Yuji says.
“But 100.000 yen, Nii-san! For just a 20 minute video of me masturbating. How much money do we even need?” You put your hand on his knee and scoot closer. He has to see how big of an opportunity this is.
“It would be a big chunk of it,” Yuji mumbles. He looks at you, feeling some sort of excitement that he definitely shouldn't feel. He should talk you out of doing this. He should be a good big brother and make sure you don't make mistakes that could potentially ruin your future. But gosh he feels just so utterly excited that you would at all do it.
“But you understand that this would be porn then. It's not just lewd modelling… you would be doing porn,” Yuji searches your eyes. “You understand that? Your profs might see… your friends might see and they will judge you. You might lose opportunities–”
“I know why I'm doing it. It is to help you. If people want to judge me for that, I don't care. When you do underground boxing for money and get hurt–,” you reach out and touch Yuji's scar. “Is it any different? You also sell your body. And besides this doesn't get posted… it's just for the guy.”
Yuji turns his head away because he is so sure his pupils have turned to hearts. He loves you so much. You are the best. There is no one who gets him like you do, no one who loves him like you do. You would sell your body for him? He loves you more than anything, just like a big brother should.
“We have to go out and buy a dildo then,” Yuji says.
“We don't,” you blush.
Suddenly your wrists are pinned to the couch and Yuji cages you in being on top of you. He is so strong. “Where the fuck did you get a dildo from?!” Yuji's face is spun in a serious frown. His eyes are sharp as they dare down on you. You try to wiggle away but can't.
You laugh. “You will be mad, nii-sama! But it was a joke, I swear!”
“Nii-sama my ass. Spill!”
“Choso and Yuta gifted it to me for my 18th birthday,” you mumble.
“I'll kill them!” He shouts.
“It was funny because it looks like a magical girl wand. It really was just a joke.”
“Who do they think they are–
“Yuji, it's not that deep, okay? It was funny… I never used it…”
“Oh,” he looks down at you and his gaze softens considerably. “So you don't know what you're doing?”
“N-no… but can't be any different than my fingers right?” You ask.
Yuji gets off and retreats like a bitten pup. “Yeah… probably,” he laughs awkwardly and gulps. Gosh he has hoped to catch you in the act… but only to make sure you do it safely of course. He thought you didn't even touch yourself since he never did hear anything. Ever. Sneaky girl.
“Maybe we should watch some solo porn tonight for inspiration?” Yuji thinks.
“Good idea! Will you write the guy? I don't wanna do it–”
“I'll take care of it. Don't worry, babysis.”
“Thanks, nii-san.”
You go to your classes and Yuji works his day job as a mechanic. He nearly punches Choso's teeth out just seeing him upon walking in. How dare he? Does Choso fantasize about you?!
“You seem tense?” The senpai asks. “What's up?”
Yuji sighs. He loves Choso like a brother. That's not why he is mad… he just is mad about not knowing… he should know everything about his little sis. “Money is just tight right now.”
“Oh?” Choso frowns. “Do you need–”
“No. (Y/N) and I are figuring it out but I appreciate it.”
“Kay, man. But let me know if I can help out.”
“Will do.” Yuji nearly bends the wrench in his hand. No he can't let it go. “Why did you and Yuta give (Y/N) a fucking dildo?!”
Choso goes pale. “Look, man, it was a joke! A total joke. Yuta–”
When Yuji gets home you have already done all the chores and cooked dinner. He doesn't ask you to do any of this. As the older brother it is his job too. However, you are the best and you take care of him too.
“Hey, sis,” Yuji kisses your cheek and disappears in the bathroom, cleaning off the grime he accumulated working on all the cars throughout the day. “How was your day?” He calls over.
“Fine. Got a 100% on that term paper.”
“Good job!” Yuji smiles. Gosh you're so smart too. He is so proud.
“And you?”
“Like always.”
Yuji walks out and plops down on the couch. “I'm beat. Whatcha cook?”
“Just stew with all the frozen veggies we still had. We have to go grocery shopping.”
You hand him a bowl and sit down on the floor. “Do we have money for groceries?”
“Ha… That guy already made half the payment for the video,” Yuji says.
“What?” You nearly drop your spoon.
“Yep”
You eat in silence from that moment on. You were so occupied with class and class work, cooking and chores that you didn't check again.
You clean up and join your brother on the couch. You are chewing your lip. He already paid half the price… So now you have to deliver. “So… are we watching porn then to figure out how to film the video?”
“Ah right. We wanted to do that,” Yuji smiles and grabs his laptop. He sets it on the coffee table and opens his porn site of choice.
You see for a second that almost all his recommendations are step sibling porn but he quickly clicks to the search bar.
“Pick one,” he tells you.
You scroll for a moment then click on a girl. The camera is placed on the floor and she is sitting on cute blankets and pillows.
She starts by showing off her body and takes her time, then starts to play with her cunt.
“I like the angle. I… will be filming it by myself, right?” You blush.
“I-if you're more comfortable– but we can watch another one where the camera is moving? Just in case?” Yuji wants to be there, God. He needs to be there.
Yuji clicks around and opens another video. The camera is moving, showing the girl off even better. It zooms in on her cunt and her face too. It is cute– hot. Your tummy tingles.
“But… you won't judge, right!” You box at his arm.
“Of course not!” He laughs. “Never!” He looks at you and his eyes soften. He will just be honest. He reaches out and strokes through your hair. “If you don't mind… I want to be there. You've never used a dildo, right? I don't want you to hurt yourself and do this all alone. Is that okay?”
“Oh,” you purse your lips. “Yeah… I didn't think about it like that.”
“Hm.” Yuji gets up to grab some water.
“Let's do it now? I think I want to get it over with?”
Yuji chokes and his heart beats up his throat. He thought he'd have time to drain his balls so no accidents would happen. “Yes… sure. If you want that.”
“I'll get ready.”
“He asked for the white set and minimal makeup with pigtails.”
“Alright!”
“Where is the dildo? You always have to keep it clean before use,” Yuji walks into your room.
“Under the bed. Shoebox.”
Yuji opens it and, no, he gets it now. It is funny. You're really into that whole magical girl stuff and that thing looks just like a magic wand. It's made from glass and has a pink star on the end of the handle. It isn't thick… luckily. Yuji wouldn't know how to feel about that since he is sure you are untouched.
He cleans the dildo properly then sets everything up and checks that the camera is stocked with enough battery and an SD card. And then you walk in.
Oh shit. Yuji stops breathing for a second. It's so weird. When you were younger he'd style your hair like this… It looks so different now. So lewd.
You walk to him and hold your pinky out.
“Pinky promise you won't laugh!”
“Why would I laugh?” He… laughs.
“See!” You hit him. “You are laughing.”
Yuji chuckles. “I won't laugh at you… pinky promise. Never. You're doing such a good job. You're a natural.”
You whine and press your face into his arm.
“I swear… I won't even look… I'm concentrating on the filming anyway. You'll be fineeeee.” His hand touches the small of your back, thumb circling softly. “I know what we'll do!” He leaves and comes back with a bottle of sake that is still in the cupboard from when grandpa was around. “Take a sip for courage.”
You blink at him but take a sip. A big one. You cough. “Disgusting.”
Yuji opens a little pouch and you see condoms. He gets out a little bottle. Lube.
“Why do you have lube?” You ask.
“I like to have anal sex,” he shrugs. “Makes it easier for the girl. And since it's the first time you insert something in–”
“Yes, I understand,” you say sharply. Your lips form a tight line. What are you upset about now? Maybe it's the anal sex… girls find it disgusting a lot which Yuji really doesn't understand since it's so nice. Whatever.
“Let's start?” You ask.
He nods. “One more thing. He wants you to say sensei.”
You nod. That might be the easiest part about this. You start to show off your body like the other girls have. You remember that you didn't like how quiet they were…
“Sensei,” you make your voice sound sultry. “Wanna have a fun time with me?”
Yuji looks at you, shocked and excited all at once. He can hardly keep the camera steady.
“Let's have a fun time, sensei, yeah?” You sigh dreamily and spread your legs, rubbing your clothed cunt a few times before lewdly taking off the panties. You kneel and make a show of taking your bra off, letting your tits bounce.
“Good job,” Yuji encourages softly. You can cut him out later. “Go on.”
You lay back down and expose your cunt. In the video light your wetness is well visible. “I am so wet for you, sensei,” you say breathlessly and spread your pussy lips with your fingers. “All for you.” You run your fingers through your folds a few times before you start to circle your cute little clit.
Yuji wants to suck on it so badly. Wants to take it between his teeth and feel it swell. Yuji almost moans too when you start to gasp and whimper in pleasure.
You slip in one finger. Your little cunt is so snug around even that tiny finger of yours. Yuji knows you're a virgin. Even if you sent some low life boy nudes before… you wouldn't have gone further without talking to him first.
Yuji moves the camera closer to your pretty pussy then up to your face. Your doe eyes look exactly into the lens and you breathe out a soft “sensei”. Gosh, the guy is lucky. What Yuji would give for you to–
“Nii-San?” You gasp.
Yuji bites down so hard on his lip he draws blood. “Yes?”
“Can we practice first?”
“Of course.”
Yuji keeps filming, knowing this is such good content too if cut together in its own video; just in case.
Yuji takes the lube and squeezes it onto your cunt. You flinch a little and shoot him a look. “Sorry.”
“Cold,” you pout. You pick up the dildo and run it through your even slicker folds now flinching again. “Cold!” Your back arches. This time you don't seem to mind too much.
“It's made from glass. What did you think?” Yuji chuckles.
You let out a shaky breath and slowly push the tip inside. Your head feels like it's spinning. “It's weird.”
“You gotta find the special spot,” he says.
It looks so lovely how your hole tries to take the small girth. Yuji can't help imagining you struggling to take him.
You whimper. “I don't know.”
“Let me help, yeah?” He looks at you and you nod reluctantly. “Rub your clit.”
You do and Yuji takes the wand in his hand, holding the camera steady with his other. “Say if it hurts.”
“Hm.” You focus on your clit as he slowly pumps the toy in and out. In no time it started to feel so good.
Yuji enjoys this so much. Your pussy even sounds amazing…. how amazing it must feel. You are so wet. Your aroma fills his nose.
“Nii-chan, let me? Wanna try…”
“Of course,” he hums. Your hands brush together as you take the wand in your hand.
You pump the toy inside on your own leisure. Testing the waters first but soon you get familiar with it and your frown deepens, your gasps and moans become more urgent. You go rougher with it, more desperate.
“Nii-Chan!” You nearly cry out and look at him. Yuji might have busted in his pants then and there. You are looking for answers in his eyes. So confused. “I don't know– I don't– this feels different.” You don't stop however. Your thighs start to tremble.
You whimper and moan and throw your head back and then it happens. It is small… just this bit of clear liquid shooting out of your pretty pussy but you squirt. You whine and squirm and thrust the wand right back in, going more wild than before.
“Babysis?” Yuji whispers in utter awe. You are so far gone… completely overtaken by pleasure.
“Wanna do it again…wan’ do again… felt s'good. Nii-chan– please.”
Yuji holds back a grunt and gurgles. His body tenses and his skin lights aflame as he shoots his cum into his boxers. He feels dizzy. Holy shit.
You are so desperate. So slutty. So braindead. Fuck. He could probably just slide his cock in and you'd be so happy.
No. No! He can't be thinking like this. Yuji sets the camera down. “(Y/N), hey. Cmon, stop,” he slows your hand. “You never drink enough. I don't think you can squirt again. It's okay… Shh.” He helps you sit up and you lean against his chest. You're a total mess: out of breath and if someone would ask you what day of the week it was you'd have no clue.
“Wanna do it again… it feels so good,” you nearly sob. He'd call you greedy but damn it made Yuji fucking cum untouched.
“Shhh,” he kisses your temple. “You can do it again. You just gotta drink enough. Let's take a break… you drink some water and we have to redo the video anyway.”
“I am sorry, nii-san,” you meet his eyes. “I got carried away.”
“Don't be sorry, babysis. You did so well. Damn, you squirted for the first time. I told you, you're a damn natural. I'm so proud of you,” Yuji grins a little. You truly are so perfect.
“Really? Are the girls you have sex with able to squirt too?” You blink at him.
It's an odd question but Yuji doesn't think about it too much. “No… haven't slept with someone who can squirt.” He thinks.
“So I am better than them?” You whisper slouching against him.
“Heh? You're my little sis, of course you're better,” Yuji frowns. You are saying such nonsense but the squirting must have really exhausted your body. “Go clean up, yeah? I clean up here. Then we take a break and film the video after?”
That's what you do. The second take goes by smoothly without any squirting incident since you watch out for the signs now. You are pretty confident that “Sensei” will enjoy your little show. After you shot the video… you relocated to the bathroom.
You both agree that squirting content is something that sells well. You will film some and then see if you actually post and promote it. It's just in case now… you aren't sure.
“I am so stupid for not using this thing sooner,” you whine, throwing your head back over the edge of the tub. “Gotta thank Yuta and Choso.” You babble.
“Don't you dare.”
“Am joking. Ready?” You squeal.
Your toes curl and you squirt again. Yuji takes a burst of photos. “We can make this into a little gif,” he chuckles.
“Yah. One more okay? Jus’ one,” you meet his hazel eyes. “Then we have enough content…. But jus… one.”
Oh… You could be going on the whole night… Yuji doesn't mind. Fuck… he's in heaven. Well, almost. He needs to taste your sweet essence so badly.
“This time you could maybe turn around. Ass up, you know?” He suggests.
You nod and Yuji bites his lip watching how you try to sit up and turn. Your legs are quivering, your movements are so disoriented and weak. You are pushing your body to the brink with every climax.
“I'll get you a doctor's note tomorrow, kay?”
“Yes, nii-chan,” you sigh and hollow your back, sticking out your ass. Droplets of squirt and cream still cling to it. Yuji takes some pics of that too.
“Can you look back at the camera? Yes. Good girl.”
You smile and reach around, pumping the toy into your swollen cunt. The angle makes it harder. “Nii-san… can you help?”
Yuji nearly squeals in excitement. He bites back the smiles and sets the camera down at a good angle. “Sure.”
Yuji grins and starts to pump the toy in and out. You arch into it and moan blissfully. He is rougher than he needs to be, part of him wants to test your tolerance. You handle it so well. Even going in to play with your terribly swollen clit.
“Almost!” You heave. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you squirm. “Fuck. Fuck!” You prop yourself up, lifting yourself and suddenly your face is so close to his, only inches away.
You are burning. He can feel it. Your breath, no, your gasps and moans are hot when they hit his face. Your eyes are so big and soft, pleading with him… Yuji doesn't know about what. Your gaze is so intense. His eyes drop to your lips for a second but before he can contemplate, you cum. You cry out, pressing your face into his shoulder. Your whole body jerks and spasms and the hot liquid splashes from your cunt like a fountain, running down your shaking legs and sounding like those last drops that hit the shower floor when you turn off the water. Perfection.
“Shh. Shh. You're doing so good. You're so perfect,” Yuji whispers against your sweaty hair. “Putting in so much effort so we can pay our bills… Good girl.”
You are done after that. Yuji cleans you up, you can't even do that yourself anymore. But he's your big brother… of course he takes care of you. Happily. It's the best part.
He puts you to bed and kisses your forehead.
“I love you, nii-san,” you whisper.
“Love you too, babysis,” he whispers back.
[Take this poll pls]
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toruro · 11 months
Text
— ✧ desperate
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i don't know what i'd be doing without you (raise y_our glass / huh yunjin)
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pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader
description: when your husband starts to get more and more busy, you naturally grow needy. it’s only after long game of cat and mouse that he finally gets you to fess up about what's been bothering you, and it's safe to say your answer is definitely not what he's expecting. 
tags: smut (18+), husband!wonwoo, fluff, oral (f receiving), bulge kink, angst and miscommunication but it's resolved ^-^
w/c: 3.7k
a/n: inspired by this ... so sorry it took me so long to get to this, it's been sitting in my drafts for SO long ... but i hope u all enjoy! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated :3
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You’re convinced you’ve gone crazy. This shouldn’t be right—your fiancé being exhausted shouldn’t turn you on—it’s wrong. Isn’t it?
It’s been bothering you recently, but you’ve held back.
When he comes home and immediately drops his black suit jacket on the floor and his jaw is tight, you turn away and ignore how it reminds you of the way he clenches his teeth when fucking into you. When he unbuttons his white formal shirt at the top, revealing the chiseled curve of his chest, you leave the room for a few moments, hoping that the burning ache between your legs will soon ebb away. It’s exhausting in its own way, you think.
Coming home every day to a quiet house, with nothing but you and your hand slipping under the waistband of your panties trying to do anything and everything to make your fingers feel like his; Wonwoo walking in hours after your futile attempts to make yourself cum, muttering sincere apologies of, “I’m sorry, there’s just this one deal we’ve been trying to make and—“
You’d have to shush his words, wrapping your arms around him saying, “It’s okay, I understand—you’re working so hard.”
"I hate being away from you," Wonwoo would admit, and you'd kiss his cheek softly. He'd melt in your arms and in the moment you'd feel so guilty for feeling so needy earlier, but you can't lie and say the way that his arms are so large and hard under your touch has you throbbing.
You'd get into bed before Wonwoo is out of the shower, doing your best to lull yourself to sleep so you don't have to be awake to feel his bare skin against your body, because you just know your poor pussy won't be able to handle it.
Tonight, he comes back around the same time as others—weary after a long day at work—a small frown etched on his lips as he runs a rough hand through his tousled hair, noticing that you aren’t by his side to greet him like normal. A twinge of disappointment runs through his body as he glances around, waiting silently to see if you're just a few seconds away from walking up to him,
To be honest, you’ve been horny all evening—like pretty much all other ones—so when you hear him unlock the door, you just can't bring yourself to go see him, knowing that you probably wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to just sink to your knees in front of him and unbuckle his pants.
Wonwoo, still standing by the doorway, is frankly quite confused. "Baby," he calls out, wondering that maybe you just didn't hear him walk in.
But when you only let out a low hum and say, "Yeah?" in response, he feels...dejected? No, that it's the right word.
To be honest, Wonwoo has been sensing something's wrong. He brushed it off earlier, thinking that it was probably just him being too tired to tell the difference between you being tired too, and you avoiding him. Up until right now, he had convinced himself it was the former—you two both had been swamped in work, so he figured that you were just as exhausted as him.
Now, Wonwoo isn't too sure of himself. Those thoughts that 'what if she's not interested anymore,' are creeping back into his mind, but when he walks into the living room to see you curled up in the couch, he tries to push them away. Absentmindedly slipping off his suit jacket and unbuttoning the top of his shirt, he walks over to you and sits next to you on the couch.
"How was work?" you ask him, not really looking up from your phone as you lean in slightly to his side. Fuck, he looks so good with the way his glasses hang low, collarbone on display, eyes gazing intensely at yours—fuck, fuck, fuck, you just can't take it.
"Good," Wonwoo hums, wrapping an arm around your side and you might just combust with the way the rough pads of his fingers brush against your skin because—fuck—you can't stop thinking about the way they rub the inside of your cunt. "How was your day?"
"Tiring," you reply honestly, and just when Wonwoo thinks you'll sink deeper into his hold, you're pulling away, leaving him cold and confused. "I'm going to get into bed now," you murmur, "'m really tired, you know?" Sitting up from the couch, your fiancé just stares at you for a few moments, blinking, before you force yourself to turn away and walk hastily to your bedroom.
If Wonwoo thought something was wrong before, he definitely knows something is wrong now. You and him, you're good at communicating. Wonwoo expects you to tell him if there's anything bothering you, and you expect the same of him; so now that there's obviously something you aren't telling him, he's more worried than anything that there's something you aren't comfortable telling him.
After snapping out of the somewhat shocked state he's in, he doesn't hesitate to stand up and follow behind you. You're crawling into bed when you hear his footsteps thudding up towards you, and this is when you think your luck has run out—your patience is running thin, and if you look at Wonwoo any longer, you know you won't be able to handle it, turning yourself over in the bed to smush your face in the pillow.
Maybe if you pretend you're asleep he won't talk to you. Unfortunately for you, like you said: your luck has run out.
"Baby," Wonwoo coos softly, as you feel the mattress dip next to you with his added weight. There's a hand on your shoulder and you think you might just crumble right there and then. "C'mon, I know you're awake." Maybe if you just hold out a little bit longer—"Okay seriously."
You open one eye and let it flicker to the direction of Wonwoo's voice, finding him sitting on the bed on his knees next to you, eyes pleading. "'m tired," you try to tell him, turning back before he grabs your shoulder again.
"Something's wrong." Yeah, maybe it's the fact that you haven't been able to make yourself cum in weeks.
"Yeah," you say bluntly, the words coming out harsher than you'd anticipated. "I'm tired and you aren't letting me sleep. That's what's wrong." Wonwoo gives you that look and now you know you're really in for it.
"You're avoiding me."
You open both your eyes, sitting up and leaning against the headboard with a frown. "I'm not."
"You didn't say come hi when I came home."
"I was cozy on the couch."
"Angel, you always come say hi to me," Wonwoo says, and you can swear there's almost a pout on his lips. You rub your eyes with your hands, trying to distract yourself from the way you can see under his shirt when he leans forward, revealing his pretty set of hard muscles.
"Sorry, I don't know I just—I was really tired today," you try to say sincerely, looking at your fiancé with eyes practically begging him to just let it go.
"Did I do something wrong?" Wonwoo blurts out, and your eyes widen.
"What, no?" you exclaim, nearly mortified that he would even think that. "No, why would you think that?"
Wonwoo's eyes furrow, and you can't quite read his expression. "You've been so distant..." his voice trails off. "If I did something wrong I want us to talk about it, not have secrets." You sigh as he reaches his hand over to intertwine with yours, squeezing your eyes shut when you find yourself focusing in on the thick, prominent veins.
"It's embarrassing," you murmur under your breath, not daring to look Wonwoo in the eye while a series of downright filthy thoughts run through your mind.
"It's okay," Wonwoo whispers, inching closer to you, so sincere that it's driving you crazy.
"I—" your voice hitches in your throat, and he looks at you worriedly as you pull your hand away from his so you can bury your face in your palms, inhaling deeply. He places a hand on your back immediately and the proximity has you squeaking out his name.
"What is it, baby?" Fuck, his voice is so deep and it's slightly hoarse and it's strumming your heart in ways that you can't even describe.
"It's just—you're just gone so—so much," you finally manage to say. You know it's vague, but it's the only thing that you can muster up.
Wonwoo's face scrunches up, and he looked at you confused. "I—I know," he sighs, getting frustrated with himself for leaving you like this. You catch the somber look on his face, and your heart tightens at the idea that he thinks this is his fault because it's not.
Not his fault his cock is so fat and long and pretty in ways that has your mouth salivating when you even just think about it. Not his fault that whenever you close your eyes and press your thighs together, all you can think about is his length carving its shape into your aching cunt. Yeah. Totally not his fault.
"I'm sorry," Wonwoo continues when you don't respond. "Have I been neglecting you?"
Your pussy, yeah. "N-no, it's not that," you stutter out, trying to push the thoughts away. Maybe there's still some time for you to back out of this.
"Can you not lie? I can tell you're upset with me."
"No!" you say quickly, bringing up a hand to catch his wrist. His skin burns against yours, and you aren't sure how much longer you can put this up. "I guess I just...I missed you a lot..." your voice trails off hoping that Wonwoo will understand what you’re getting at, but the dazed look on his face tells you he hasn’t got a clue.
“I didn’t mean to,” he says with a frown, linking his fingers with the ones on his wrist, pulling you close. Fuck, you really should pull away because his gentle tug is reminding you of the way he pulls you on top of him when you're about to ride him and—“Work has just been a lot lately,” he explains sadly, looking down at you as he pulls you flush against his chest.
Your face is burning and his exposed skin pressed against you is just too much, and you need to pull away. “Wonwoo, just—“
“Do you not love me anymore?” he blurts out and you freeze.
“What?!” you gasp out. “What the hell—no, Wonwoo.” You pinch the bridge of your nose and now you know that you can’t let this go on any longer.
“I’m trying to figure out why you’ve been so so distant and you keep pushing me the fuck away and—“ he rambles, clearly frustrated when he rakes a hand through his hair.
Your eyes well up with tears and you aren’t sure if it’s because of how sad Wonwoo looks or how bad you feel for letting it all build up to this point or how you feel guilty for being so needy in the first place.
“It’s not you, it’s not you, it’s me!” you finally manage to tell him. Wonwoo stills, watching tears leak from your lashes as you go on. “I’ve just been missing you so much, Won,” you blabber, “and when you come home so tired and exhausted I don’t wanna bother you and—sometimes it hurts to be in the same room as you because I just wanna feel you but—”
“Wait hold on,” Wonwoo murmurs, his faced scrunched up. “That’s what this is about.”
You look away bashfully, burying your face in your hands. “I told you, Won—it’s embarrassing!” Wonwoo stares at you for a moment, blinking as he lets your words sink in. You're scared of his reaction, keeping your eyes shut tight—afraid you'll see him looking down at you and seeing you for the desperate, needy girl you are.
The anticipation of his response is still killing you though, and you're about to murmur something more when you hear Wonwoo stifle a little laugh. Peeking up at him through your fingers, you catch him watching you with a rather amused smile.
"You were just horny?" he murmurs, bringing his hand up to pull your fingers away from your face.
Quickly averting your gaze, you mumble, "I—I wasn't just horny...it's just—it's been weeks and you look—" you bite your lip wondering if you should go on. The smirk on his face tells you yes. "—you look really nice when you get home."
"Pretty sure that means you were just horny," Wonwoo teases, and although you feel like the world might as well swallow you whole, a lot of the tension that's been weighing down on your shoulders has vanished. Since your confession, Wonwoo has traced his hands up your arms and down your body so they now rest on your waist, pulling you close to him as he shifts his own body so he can lay against the headboard.
"No," you huff, easing back into a more comfortable setting now that you're sitting on his lap, the heated mess between your legs growing even more dirty. "Missed you. Missed this." You punctuate the last word with an peck on his lips that has you both grinning.
"Missed my dick, is what you're trying to say," Wonwoo says with a roll of his eyes, and you slap his shoulder.
Pouting, you reply, "Hey. Stop doing that, or you're going to make me start feeling like I'm the only one who wants this..."
"This?" Wonwoo's eyebrow is cocked up, and you feel yourself shrinking under his gaze. Your hips are resting dangerously close to his, but his firm grip on you has you stuck in your place.
"You know..." your voice goes quiet, and you look up your husband pleadingly.
"I've really left you needy, huh angel..." he mutters under his breath, running one finger along your bottom lip as you lean into his touch. And then his lips are crashing onto yours, a wet mess of tongue and saliva as you both lick into each other's mouth.
Whining, you grind down onto his pelvis when lets go of his bruising grip on your waist, allowing you to find that friction that you've been craving for weeks. Your hands instinctively fly up to tug at his button up, the flat rounds of plastic slipping through his fingers as you claw your way to feel his skin against you.
Wonwoo lets you work his shirt off of him, pulling away so he can fix his own attention on your pajama pants, wondering how many times you've tried to make yourself cum in them. He shoves away the thought of leaving you so needy that you felt the need to fucking play with yourself, instead bringing his hands to the elastic waistband and yanking down and over the curve of your ass.
"I missed you so much, Won-won," you mewl into his shoulder, legs instinctively wrapping around his bare torso once you successfully rid Wonwoo of his shirt and kick off your pajamas off.
"You could've—" he cuts off with his own grunt as he adjusts under you, trying to push his pants off of himself as he grows harder by the second, "—said something earlier. You should've."
You look up at him meekly once he finally get's his work pants out of the way and thrown off the bed, squirming in your own panties and loose shirt. "I know but you're working so hard," your voice trails off. "Coming home everyday, all tired and all."
"I always have energy for you," he murmurs, nipping at the skin of your neck, allowing himself to taste as much of you as you'll let him. Quickly and firmly, he flips the two of you so that you're leaning against the cushions and he's on top of you, settling in between your legs. Sucking hard, Wonwoo vaguely thinks about how you might complain about the hickey in the morning, but the thought is swept away when you thread your fingers into his hair and tug gently.
"Wonwoo," you coo, and you don't need to say any more for him to know what you want. He briefly considers teasing you a little longer—making you plead with him, tear up as you beg for him to fuck you, but he knows that you've been thinking about this for too long to have the will to make you wait any longer. Wonwoo can save the edging for another time, he reminds himself, as he slowly makes his way down your body so that his lower half is resting flat on the mattress, strong arms wrapping around your legs and hips.
"Missed seeing you like this, pretty," he murmurs, nuzzling his cheek into your inner thigh, placing wet kisses on the sensitive skin.
"Missed you too," you mumble, growing shy by the way Wonwoo's staring down at the wet spot that stains your panties in front of him.
"Yeah?" he hums, bringing up one hand to pinch the nub of your clit between the fabric, causing you to gasp loudly and throw your head back. "I can tell baby...you're soaked." The tips of your ears burn and you bury your face into the crook of your arm.
"Won-won..."
"Sorry baby, you just look so sexy right now...take your shirt off for me," he responds with a cheeky grin, pressing a kiss onto your soiled panties before peeling them off while you shimmy off your own top. You hiss when the cool air hits your slick folds, hips bucking for some friction. "Easy," Wonwoo orders, grounding your hips down with one strong arm, "Let me take my time with you."
"But I can't wait anymore!" you whimper, watching him bring his face dangerously close to your core. A choked moan rips from your throat when Wonwoo heeds your body's request, liking a warm stripe up your cunt, swirling his tongue over your aching clit. He hums against you as he wraps his lips around the sensitive nub, sucking so hard it has your arms flying down to grip at his hair.
Without anymore words, Wonwoo glides his tongue through your folds, pressing against them flat and hard and fuck, does he move so languidly, it's like your bodies were made for each other. He lets you tug at his hair, loosening his grip on your waist so that you can buck your hips in a shallow motion while he swivels his head up and down in sync, allowing you to grind against his face perfectly.
"Fuck—Wonwoo—I missed you so much," you cry out when he prods one finger at your hole, the gyrating of your hips taking its opportunity to suck him right in. And before you know, he's got two fingers plunged knuckle deep inside your cunt as he continues to lap at your clit. His name runs from your lips like a mantra and you wonder how you'd gone more than day without having him go down on you like this, because right now it feels as if Wonwoo is all you can breathe, smell, feel, and think.
"Yeah? Think you can show me how much you missed me?" he manages out, finally pulling his face away to catch his breath before diving right back into your filthy cunt, allowing the glistening mess that runs from his lips and down his chin to grow even messier.
"Yes!" you moan as he slips in a third finger, curling them up into that one spot that is burned into the back of his mind—the one spot that has your legs shaking and eyes shutting tight as you cry out his name when your orgasm hits. Wonwoo finger fucks you through the high, and suddenly you're trembling for his touch, to feel his skin against yours, to have him so close you wouldn't be surprised if you mold into one.
Intertwining your fingers with his clean one, you pull him up so fast that he nearly falls over you, grunting a little as he climbs his way up to have his body hovering over yours. It's not enough, you think dazedly, wrapping your arms around his torso to yank him down on you so that your bodies are pressed up right against each other. "Baby," he huffs as his clothed cock rubs up against your bare cunt.
You push your lips against his in an awkward, sloppy kiss as you body roll around in the sheets as Wonwoo tries to shuffle off boxers and you try to wrap your legs around his bare torso as best as you can. As soon as you're both successful, he's pulling away from your lips for a moment to gasp when he slides his cock through your dripping folds. Fuck, it really has been too long, he thinks.
Wonwoo is drunk on the feeling of your wetness alone, and then you're holding him so close—tits pressed up against his chest and pelvis pressing into his and god, he can't take it anymore. He'll apologize later for giving you no warning, but right now he just needs to be inside of you, sinking his fat length into your warm cunt with no hesitation.
The stretch is delicious, and you're reminded of just why your fingers were never able feel the same—he's splitting you in half, and you can't help but crave for more and more and more. Your skin burns and it feels like you might just pass out from the pleasure, but you don't mind if you meet your end—not if it's by Wonwoo's hand.
And then he shifts inside you just a little but that's more than enough for you both to feel it. Wonwoo's stomach is pressed up against yours and it'd be impossible to not feel it. He grabs your hand in his and slips it between the little space that's left between you two so you can both smooth your hands over your stomach and the realization is more than enough to have your feeling another orgasm bubble up in your core.
Because at the base of your belly is the imprint of Wonwoo's cock inside of you, so deep that you're body forced itself to make room for him and the thought alone is enough to have you moaning into each other's mouth as your lips meet for another filthy kiss.
It's about to be a long fucking night.
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httpiastri · 8 months
Text
beautiful – op81
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genre: sweet sweet smut
pairing: female reader x oscar piastri
warnings: wellll it's smut so..... not much else, it's pretty soft so nothing rlly in need of a warning i think. almost a liiittle praise kink hiding in there but not exactly a warning ahah
requested?: um no not really BUT this ask from when this blog was still new has been on my mind ever since i got it....
author's note: this fic is basically just me calling oscar beautiful a thousand times..... second time ever writing smut and it's just as weird as the first time lmao! but i did enjoy writing it. this is protected sex because !! don't forget to be safe when yall have sex !!! and consent is sexy. hope you enjoy this <3 (and again, it's 5am so yes it was proofread but i probably missed something... soz)
f1 masterlist
18+ content below! minors, do not interact!! thanks
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oscar is always beautiful.
when he stood on the podium yesterday, for the first time in his formula one career, he was gorgeous. when he came down to hug his family, you included, the smile on his lips was irresistible. and when he danced with you in some random club, his features reminded you of the ones of a god.
he had been teasing you all night. the fleeting touches and quick kisses he gave you held a promise; you would be back in your hotel room soon, just you and him, and he would take good care of you.
you had helped each other get undressed, drunken giggles shared between you as it had taken him a few moments to figure out the zipper of your dress. but the exact moment his head had hit the pillows, he had been out like a light. you swore you had only turned away for a second to take off your earrings, but when you had looked back at him, he had already been snoring.
even then, he was beautiful. but the maybe one moment you enjoy watching him the most is times like these. when the rays of the soft morning sun light up his features, his face basking in the rays. his chest rises and sinks in a steady rhythm, mouth barely open as he takes his sleepy breaths. with his messy, long fringe spread over his forehead, strands of hair tickling his round cheeks.
when he looks so pure, innocent, untouched, like he’s never had a worry in his entire life. so far away in dreamland, this world long forgotten.
but he loves coming back to this world. dreaming is nice, but when he opens his eyes and they land on the beautiful angel next to him, he feels like he has stepped into yet another dream.
his arms are draped around your waist, keeping you close as one of your hands land on his cheek. you smile when his eyes flutter closed again. “morning,” you hum, letting your thumb stroke across his skin. your finger follows his birth marks, the ones you could draw out blindfolded, the ones you know like the constellations you memorized in fifth grade.
oscar is always beautiful, but like this, he's perfect.
he doesn't answer, instead opting to trail one of his hands along the side of your body. the hand finds the hem of your thin shirt and dips inside it, letting the tips of his fingers swipe up and down your skin, against the sensitive area right below your chest, further down to your hips. he notices now that you aren't wearing any underwear, and the realization brings a grin to his lips.
he leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he drags his thumb along the inside of your thigh. his mouth moves down to your neck, trailing pecks and licks and bites on it's journey across your body. no piece of skin remains untouched or unkissed; oscar would kiss every inch of your soul if he could.
his head ducks under the blanket to reach your stomach, his hand coming up to push your hip softly. you take the hint and lie down fully on your back, a low sigh leaving your lips as he climbs on top of you. he's still hiding under the blanket so you're surprised when his lips meet the front of your thigh, your legs squeezing together in reaction. his voice is raspy when it leaves his throat, vocal cords still cold after a long night's sleep. "i want to taste you. open up, please."
your legs fall open easily; you're always open to letting oscar do what he wants. a jolt of electricity shoots through your body as he presses his lips to your clit. one of your hands come down to rake through his hair as his tongue drags along your folds and you feel way too sensitive already. his name falls from your lips when he starts sucking on your clit, but it's the feeling of his fingers entering you that takes over your mind completely. you can't think of anything other than how his digits are pumping you, how his tongue works wonders against you, and how you're so close already.
your hand in his hair tightens when you reach your high, your legs shaking and your heart hammering in your chest. he lets you try to catch your breath for a few moments, but then he pulls the covers down his body, appearing from below them as if in a round of peek-a-boo. even as you're breathless, coming down from an orgasm after being eaten out, you somehow have the energy to laugh at your lover. he's so dorky, so darling,
so beautiful.
even when his hair is a mess, even when he's newly awake, even with traces of you on his lips.
the hand leaves his hair, coming down to cup his cheek and pull him up towards your face. he hovers above you, bringing his fingers up to let his tongue clean them from your juices. you usher him down to you, desperate to let your lips meet his for the first time in so many hours. when his lips finally lock with yours, a pleasured sound escapes your mouth. you don't even mind the taste of yourself on his lips, because the taste of him takes over, flooding your senses.
it's hungry, but not at all rushed; it's sensual in a way that only mornings with him can be.
oscar doesn't break the kiss when his hand rummages over the bedside table, desperately searching for something. he lets out a frustrated groan when he has to pull away because he can't find it, and you giggle at the sound. in just a moment, he has leaned back down to capture your lips again, this time with a condom in his hand. he wants, needs, to be connected to you constantly, so his lips are still attached to yours as he pulls off the wrapper and rolls the condom down his length. he positions himself by your entrance and unwillingly pulls away. "are you okay with this?" he asks, letting one hand hold your waist as the other smooths down your arm. when it reaches your hand, he takes it in his, intertwining his fingers with yours.
you nod, giving his hand a squeeze. "it's more than okay."
he pushes into you and your eyes roll back as your hand squeezes his again, this time involuntarily. he fills you up to the brim, a perfect fit; the stretch is just right, not too much and not too little. he gives you some time to get used to it before he starts to move, the strength in his thrusts rising bit for bit. a moan escapes your mouth when he hits one specific spot and he grins, leaning down to press his lips right below your ear. "my sweet girl," he whispers, tracing his kisses down the side of your neck.
his thumb strokes against the back of your hand as his other hand moves down between your legs. two of his fingers come to rub your clit as he continues pushing into you. "oscar..." you sigh, instantly becoming overwhelmed with the sensations. "it's... god, it's too much..."
he slows his actions, though he doesn't entirely stop, as he speaks up. "i know you can take it." he pulls his head away from your neck to look at you, and-
oscar thinks you look so beautiful.
with your hair splayed over your pillow, with your flushed cheeks, with your rosy lips slightly parted and gasping for air as you chase your high. he can't think of anything more perfect than you, and sharing this moment with you is a true blessing to him.
your breath grows heavier as you get closer, and you hang your free arm around his neck, helping him kiss you yet again. he swallows your sweet sounds that become more frequent as you approach your climax, picking up the speed of his fingers again. "that's my girl," he mumbles against your lips. "taking me so well... you're so good."
your sweet noises fill the room as you both come undone together, bodies vibrating against each other's as he rides out your highs. he collapses right next to you, one hand still holding onto your hand as the other drags you into his side. you both take a few moments to breathe, before oscar pushes a few strands of hair away behind your ear. he can't help but smile again. "you're beautiful."
"so are you."
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doflamingadonquixote · 2 months
Text
Worthy {PT 1/2}
Parings: Lucifer Morningstar x Sinner!Dom!Reader
Warnings: no one in this chapter, just a little bit of swearing and an hurt/comfort situation
Words: don’t know, more than 7000
Summary: After returning to the hotel from a day at work, you find Lucifer sitting alone and in misery. A confrontation ensues that you would never have imagined in your unlife.
A/N: English is not my first language, I apologize for any errors but I also rely heavily on a translator. Criticisms and your opinions are always welcome. I decided to divide this mini ff into TWO parts. The second will be more spicy. Let me know who would like to be mentioned for next part! Enjoy!
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You rushed in through the front door, waving your umbrella and shaking off the drops of acid rain that were quickly eating away at your jacket.
It was the fourth this week. Something was going wrong with the weather in the circle of pride.
The room had probably emptied by now given the time. There were only a few little sinners left in the armchair, entertaining themselves with their phones.
Their rooms must surely be near Alastor's radio tower. After several complaints it was discovered that the closer you were to it, the more those little gadgets seemed to have problems or interference.
“Don't be too late. Tomorrow morning Charlie will set up the new program for the week.” You communicated to them, moving behind the chair and letting a hand ruffle the younger sinner's hair.
He muttered something but nothing that was too rude towards you. As you approached the staircase back to your rooms, a white-clad figure at the bar caught your attention.
Lucifer was bent with his elbows on the table, between his fingers a half-full glass of some liquor that he had stolen from Husk's supplies.
With a loud sigh he brought it to his lips but before it could reach them, your fingers blocked the advance of the glass, pushing it down by the top again.
Lucifer turned to look at you quickly but his shoulders visibly relaxed when he acknowledged your presence.
“Whatever answer you are looking for, you won’t find it in that glass, sir.” You warned him and, in the distraction of his gaze on you, you slipped the glass from his hand, brought it to your mouth and emptied the contents down your throat.
The liquid burned faintly, causing you to cough barely. Yes, it had definitely touched Husk's good reserve.
“You've been out a long time today. Any news?” He asked as he watched you set the glass down in the sink, beyond the counter.
“Not much, really. Sinners are still very hesitant.” You shrugged but turned a happy smile on him. “At least they listen now, though. They don't accept, but they listen to what you have to say. Small steps.”
You and Lucifer met after Charlie hired you while she was in a meeting with Camilla. You worked with her in the beginning, identifying potential clients all around the circle.
Charlie probably saw some salesmanship in you that she could also exploit in convincing sinners to redeem themselves.
You were not a longtime sinner. You had recently died so you hadn’t had a chance to take an interest in the royal family.
The first time you saw Lucifer you expected something more threatening, malevolent.
Instead, you had been confronted by a little jumping baked bean who made pancakes in profusion for breakfast.
You had immediately sympathized with his personality. You considered yourself a very mild-mannered fellow so his influence was a healthy touch for your motivation as well.
You had also worked together on some proposals to present to the newcomers though with some difficulty in agreeing among yourselves.
For some strange reason his idea about the duck pool exceeded yours in preference. Seeing the hotel sinners enjoying themselves in the yellow duck pile was hilarious and utterly unbelievable.
Because of that, you had grown very close to the King and respected him very much.
Therefore, seeing him in such a pitiful state as he was in at that very moment threw a sense of unease upon you.
“Shitty day for you too?” You asked, almost as if you were disinterested. If he didn't want to answer, he could have ignored you and not felt forced to necessarily say anything.
However, the soft sound of sobbing reached your ears loud and clear.
You turned quickly but his face was bent away from you on his shoulder, not allowing you to look at him properly.
The only thing you could see was the tremor in his back and how his hands had closed forcibly on his crossed arms, resting on the counter.
Out of the corner of your eye, you watched the two remaining little sinners giggle over something they had seen on their phones, oblivious to what was happening a few feet away from them.
You didn't know what to do. Touching him seemed to be too much, and you weren't sure of your comforting skills at that moment. You felt you did not know him well enough to afford certain words of comfort.
So you did the only thing you thought wise.
Hide him.
Your coat slipped over him with a gentle rustle, covering him totally from head to toe thanks to your stature.
Lucifer turned in wonder at you, his eyes bright and red with unshed tears under the loose hood falling over his face.
You gave him a smile as his cheeks turned a soft rose color.
“You know, if you have any problems you can talk to me, right? I can't assure you a very good therapy session but I think it's good just to talk about it.”
The ex Angel remained motionless for a few seconds, and you read the situation as a choice to prefer silence.
You didn't blame him, in fact you were a little embarrassed that you had the temerity to propose such a thing to him.
You got up from your chair, ready to say good night to him and retreat when one of his black hands twisted around your wrist, preventing you from moving further away.
You blinked a few seconds, confused but returned with your butt to the chair, your body fully toward him.
“Today is eight years since Lilith left.”
You smiled sadly. You had to understand that Lilith was the reason. After all, she alone had the ability to make him unhappy, besides his daughter but she never made him unhappy.
“Oh, that must suck.”
“Yeah.”
You frowned. After eight whole years had the man still not moved on? And Lilith hadn't even deigned to give an explanation or try to communicate with him the whole time? What man waits for his wife for eight years without moving on with his own life? How could she refuse the love of such a pure being?
Fuck, she really doesn't deserve him! If only he were yours…
“Do you really think so?”
Lucifer's voice made you jerk.
“What?” You asked confusedly, forcing your heart to suppress that senseless anger born out of nowhere.
“What you said, that she doesn't deserve me...” his lips quivered and his eyes had reached the size of those of an needy dog.
Shit, had you said that out loud!?
“Um, I think so,” you shook your head, looking away from him. “I'm sorry, I had no authority to say that. It's just...I don't know...you're an exceptional person, Lucifer. You deserve the best.”
You bit your lip. That drink really must have had powerful effects to let you open up so much with a being who could disintegrate you with a snap of his fingers.
“I..…T-Thank you.”
Flabbergasted, you noticed how the king's pale face was slowly turning a scarlet red and stretching to below the collar of his shirt.
He was flattered by your words? Did he not intend to kill you for disrespecting him?
“I only said what I think.” You added at the end, as if to solidify that you had gotten away with it.
You went back to looking in front of you, now unsure of how to continue that conversation, and you noticed how a light complexion had been added to your own cheeks as well.
But it seemed that Lucifer had not finished.
“If I were yours...”
The lump of saliva you were trying to get down stuck in your throat and you began to cough convulsively in surprise.
“D-did you hear that too?!”
What the hell was wrong with you that day? You had never been so brazen and indelicate. But there was something about Lucifer that set off all the right points for you.
You couldn't reason with him.
“Do you mean it? Would you appreciate me if I was?”
His body language had changed. He still looked embarrassed but the way he leaned toward you, the fluttering eyelashes and a little pout on his lips clearly told you that something had changed for the better.
You didn't blame Eva for accepting that damn apple. The man was driving you crazy and you were sure he knew it.
The hood of the vest over his face brushed your forehead, awakening you from the little trance you had entered.
“I would. I would adore you as the king you are and deserve to be.” Your hand reached his neck, preventing him from advancing any further. “But you are not in the right condition, sir. I don't want to take advantage-“
He puts a finger to your lips, forcing you to be silent while, with the other, he gently supports your face.
“Show me.”
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muwapsturniolo · 1 month
Text
✯Chris Sturniolo NSFW ABC's✯
Summary: yall already know what these are.
Warnings: none because yall know what these are 💀
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
i feel like it depends on who you are to him. If you are a fling/fwb, he probably grabs you water and a granola bar and quickly ushers you out the door. if you are dating him, he still grabs you water but he wants to cuddle you immediately, giving you soft praises.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
it sounds odd but chris loves his nose, and it's only because you told him he has a pussy eating nose. The way it nudges your clits as he eats you out drives you crazy.
his favorite body part of yours has to be your ass. he loves the way it jiggles when you walk and the way it shakes when he's thrusting.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
he would never admit it, but he loves cumming in your mouth and making out with you immediately after.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
he's heard stories from his rapper friends about the threesomes they've had and he can't lie, he's curious. he thought about sharing you with one of them but he's too conflicted to bring it up, not knowing how you would feel about it.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
he has one or two bodies but everything else he's learned from porn or you had to tell him what you liked. once he understood your body, he was skilled at bringing you to your high.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
he loves having you face down ass up but he also loves to have you standing up, legs spread, and you touching your toes. he loves watching you shake as you try to keep your legs from giving out.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
As much as he acts crazy in videos, i dont think hes goofy in bed. i think the only time he would laugh is when yall are trying to get to the bed and probably bump into something.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
he keeps it groomed nicely, not clean shaved but enough to where its not a jungle. as for you, i feel like he would want you to be clean-shaved. he doesn't have a problem with you having hair, its just what he prefers.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
on the occasion that he is soft, its the best thing ever. hes so soft and caring, his touches light, the kisses passionate. he praises you alot as well.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
hes a busy guy so he doesn't jerk off as often as he would like but he does it at any given chance. but when he does its usually to photos of you.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
i don't think he has a specific kink. hes open to a lot and knows both of your limits.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
he enjoys fucking you everywhere in your home. shower, counter top, couch, floor, hallway, your desk. he can't do it at his house so he prefers yours.
motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
seeing you fucked out and barely able to open your eyes. That is his motivation. knowing that HE was the one that brought you to the point.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
no pegging. he would never let you shove something up his ass
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
he's a guy, and honestly, he prefers receiving. he loves the way your plump lips feel around his tip, sucking and swirling around him.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
he prefers fast and rough. he would only do soft and sensual on important moments (ex: Valentine's day, anniversary, your birthday) ....but its just for the first round he's soft with you
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
loves them. before filming? yes. before going out to eat. oh yeah. before you go to work? of course.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
he loves fucking you with his door open while his brothers are home. he loves the idea of forcing you to be quiet and his brothers possibly catching you.
matt was close one time but you two managed to get away with it.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
he can go at least three rounds. its just something about you that gets him going. your moans? the way your boobs bounce? the way your ass jiggles? he doesn't know but he isn't complaining.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
he doesn't own any toys but you do, and he loves using them on you. he really loves your rose toy and he loves the different settings it has. you can never make it past the second setting and he's determined to get you past it.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
he's a little shit in bed. he loves to tease and taunt you. he loves to edge you and then tell you to do something only to gaslight and tell you he said the opposite.
"speak to me baby, tell me what you want"
"did i tell you to speak? no"
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
he's more of the grunting type when he's fucking you with people in the house, but when people are gone, oh he's loud. moaning and groaning all in your ear.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
he saw a video of a couple doing mutual masturbation and he made you try it. it only lasted for about four minutes before he flipped you over and started fucking you.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
hes a good 7/8 inches on hard, maybe a 6 on soft. hes big in circumference but not super big. its his tip that you really have to worry about.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
if he's truly in love with you, he wants to fuck you all the time
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
after a long intense sex session, he will fall asleep immediately after making sure you are okay. if its a short session he falls asleep about 20 minutes later.
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
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xiao-come-home · 1 year
Text
How Genshin men wake up with you;
and spend their morning with you.
┏━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┓
✰ Characters: Kaeya, Diluc, Zhongli, Xiao, Itto, Ayato, Kazuha, Dainsleif, Alhaitham.
✰ Words: ~3,5k.
✰ SFW ; gn!reader, no mentions of pronouns. fluff.
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Warnings: a lot of physical touch and kisses, reader is implied to have hair, ayato is a bit sus, kazu deserves the world, alhaitham makes kavehs life a bit difficult by choice. msg me to add more.
A/N: this is a sequel to How Genshin men sleep with you post, with two new characters added cuz it was fun to write :') a lot of alhaitham's morning routine is assumed because usually, id try to base it off canon, so yeah ;3;
┗━━━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━━┛
Kamisato Ayato:
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as the Yashiro commissioner, he has to wake up pretty early. but... there's only one problem - Ayato hates it with passion. poor Thoma used to shake him awake every 15 minutes, at least three times. ayato would just swat his hands away, press his face into the pillow and sigh loudly, promising Thoma to get up in a few minutes. (he didn't)
now that you're living with your boyfriend, you share the same bed. which means a few things - he clings to you the entire night, your limbs are tangled together in the morning, and now you're the one in charge of getting him out of bed (Thoma almost cried in happiness). he annoyingly turns off the screaming alarm and snuggles back into you.
he has a habit of, quite literally - squishing his cheek against yours as he lies next to you. he also likes to nuzzle into your neck and grip you like a monkey that found the last banana in its vicinity. he hums at you and lies down with his eyes closed if you ask him questions or say anything. you can tell by the tone he hums with whether he agrees on something or not, but generally, that keeps him enough busy not to fall asleep again.
i can't stress this enough, he's ALL over you. if he's in his "cheek-against-cheek" mode, he literally cradles your other one with his palm. if his face is in your neck and you lie on your back, his fingers are intertwined with yours. the more awake he is, the more kisses are being placed by his lips.
he definitely requests breakfast in bed. at this point he's cuddled enough, so now he wants to feed you. literally. he picks up the food skillfully with his favorite chopsticks and carefully brings it to your mouth, "open up my love," he speaks in his usual, soft-spoken tone, but it's clear his morning voice is still there. "that's it, you're so good for me. is it good? would you like some more?" hmm..
just so you know: he wants you to feed him too and will pout and threaten (playfully) to go back to sleep if you don't. since he likes to sleep more, there aren't many activities you share in the morning; as a result, he cherishes the morning snuggle and sharing your first meal together a lot. Ayato is always curious to hear about your upcoming plans for the day - but he won't say no to lighthearted conversations either. he just really wants to hear your voice.
Arataki Itto:
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listen. he either sleeps until 6am or 1pm. there's no in-between, sometimes he stays up all night or falls asleep on your lap on the couch as soon as he comes back home. no, he won't move.
it's hard to say whether he's a morning person - but probably not; he whines a lot into your hair when he has to wake up early and hasn't rested enough, babbling how dark it is outside and that you're too warm to let go of.
speaking of, he holds onto you in the mornings like his life depends on it - you have to work? no, no, no - just stay for a while longer, while he smushes your face right into his... um, prominent chest. you feel the warmth of his bare skin, his chin on top of your head, his large hands drawing invisible patterns of stars, clouds, or hearts under your pajama t-shirt; he sneaks a few kisses on your hair, humming in contentment when he feels you hug him back with your arm over his own hip.
he's totally willing to make you a nice meal before work though, and wake up earlier in the process. most of the time it ends up in absolute disaster and him taking twice as much time to clean it up. but... if you decide to make breakfast together, itto can actually cook up a nice meal (with "a little of your help"). while the preparations are done and the meal is almost ready to be served, the oni hugs you from behind and sways a little from side to side, nuzzling into your neck drowsily and trying not to drool on you.
generally, he's very touchy after waking up (as you can probably guess by now), so he wants to accompany you everywhere before you have to leave. he'll cuddle you before leaving the sheets, link your pinkies when you wait for the water to boil, go showering together, have his hand on your thigh if you do your makeup, attempt to help you with your makeup which might end up in very interesting results, and trying to mischievously steal some kisses just as you're about to leave.
Itto's hands cup your cheeks gently and he flashes you a boyish smirk; he leans in and connects your lips, purring as some of his unruly hair falls onto your shoulders. he always claims he "just wants to give his little sunshine a good luck kiss for the day," but in reality, he just wants to feel you real good before you depart for today. also, he really likes flavored lip glosses, and you keep buying them, so it's not his fault for giving in to your "devilish temptations"
Kaeya:
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the bed is an absolute mess. the pillows are everywhere, his part of the duvet is barely covering him from the stomach down, and probably, he has one of his arms on your face.
it takes a while for him to fully wake up; once he opens his eyes just barely enough to see, he scans the room to make sure you're near him - and then he either gets up or decides to snuggle up to you, kiss your temple and go back to sleep for a bit more.
if it's a work day, he uses all his willpower (read: 30 alarms) to wake up earlier and just admire you. he likes to big spoon you and have his arm over your hip, gently grazing your hand with the pads of his fingers; Kaeya just can't get enough of the smell of your shampoo, of your warmth, of your presence.
before properly getting out of bed, he hovers above your sleeping form - it gives him butterflies to see you so peaceful; therefore, he always bends down and places a few butterfly kisses on your cheek with his pretty lashes. he chuckles lightly when he sees you stir in your sleep because of the interaction, so he gives your cheek a proper kiss and (unwillingly) leaves the warm bed.
just so you know - he WILL attempt to get in your pants if he has a day off. Kaeya's hands start to wander automatically as he kisses you awake (or at least attempts to), and if he feels like a little shiet enough - he might place his cold feet on your legs to help you wake up and have some fun! :)
you might need reinforcements if he doesn't wanna get up in winter when it's cold. Kaeya clings to the duvet like he's about to meet the grim reaper himself.
Diluc:
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he has a routine that he strictly follows - but at the same time, he's an expert at being quiet and letting you sleep. he takes his time getting dressed up though - he can't help but cheat a bit and watch you snore.
even if it's his day off, he still wakes up earlier than you. but there's a catch - he then leaves your shared bed for a moment to greet his maids and order them to make you a mix of your and his favorites for breakfast. he doesn't want to wake you up, but he really wants to talk with you again - so he might do that with that precious scent of freshly prepared food..
an absolute sucker for playing with your hair in the morning. he runs his fingers through your hair in the gentlest way possible, shifting closer to you and pressing a sweet, warm kiss on your forehead that he lets to linger for a bit longer.
likewise, when you play with his hair to wake HIM up - he might just feel his heart explode and shed a few happy tears. he's never believed there will be a day he meets an angel like you, even more so that graces him with such affection, sincere affection that makes your eyes sparkle.
Diluc leaves you his t-shirt he sleeps in just before going to Angel's Share - it smells like his body wash with a little bit of his natural scent. He usually takes it off in the middle of the night anyway, finding himself to feel a bit too hot for his liking.
Either way, you love cuddling with it. He's not there physically, but it's a reminder that he made it safely and spent the remaining hours of the night next to you.
Zhongli:
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he also has his own routine! he wakes up as soon as the sun begins to rise, quietly walking to the kitchen and carefully making a cup of tea for himself. he drinks his tea slowly, shuddering at the taste; his taste buds overflown with the right combination of spices. he finishes his drink just in the right time - it's time to wake you up now.
Zhongli sits on the bed and brushes some of your hair behind your ear; he kisses your forehead and begins to mumble good morning to you. He smiles at you and caresses your cheek with his thumb when he sees you trying to convince him to get just 5 more minutes.
while you finally get up and groggily change your clothes, he goes to prepare your favorite drink, be it tea, coffee, or anything else. he likes to put some mild spices in it to make your usual drink feel a bit more special and surprising. if you can't handle spices, that's fine! instead, he can give you a small snack :)
he really, really wants to brush your hair and vice versa. it's probably one of his favorite morning activities. he's trying his best not to pull your hair and if he does, he places an apologetic kiss on the crown of your hair. he'd be even happier if you let him style your hair, going to the garden or a flower shop nearby and decorating it with small flowers.
but... if you persuade him to get back to bed, he'll oblige. though, in return, you can't fall back asleep - he keeps you awake by asking you if you had any dreams or nightmares, to tell him about them, or what you'd like to eat.
he asks you to do his makeup! Zhongli's perfectly able to do it himself, but he loves seeing how focused you are on the given task, the corners of his lips going up when he hears you curse under your breath, trying to suppress his laugh.
Xiao:
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a morning bird (ha!) just like Zhongli, but he has no routine... unless killing demons counts as one. considering this, he usually isn't around when you wake up :( (not that he sleeps anyway.. 90% of the time.)
however, all it takes to make him appear is to call his name - Xiao never misses it and always prioritizes you first. he might roll his eyes if you call him "just" to lie in bed with you. but it's fine - he "berates" you (not really) while almost spooning you.
there are some rare mornings shared together with Xiao, though; he says he has to watch you to keep you safe and hopes that you won't question the excuse any further, but you know it's something else. After all, his hands covering the rosy cheeks seem to give everything away.
in reality, Xiao's cold heart gets well-deserved warmth whenever he sees you sleep. of course he still wants to protect you, but realizing how much trust you have in him to fall asleep without second thoughts is more than anything he could ever want. he smiles, eyebrows knitting together ever so slightly when he pecks your face all over; his kisses are quick and chaste. even though you can't really feel this now, you know his lips leave a tingling sensation.
he lets you sleep a bit longer on his bare hand and doesn't care if it falls asleep. he's so mesmerized by your faith in him that he just does not care. even as simple as it sounds.
when the tiredness gets the best of him, the next morning you find him breathing steadily next to you. you don't wake him up though, probably because as soon as you'd do that, he's gone off to fight the evil. give him a blanket and prepare a plate of almond tofu - the disbelief on his face quickly turns into adoration, accepting the meal and savoring every bite. after he's done, he kisses your knuckles and whispers "I love you" against your skin.
Kaedehara Kazuha:
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yet another person who wakes up extremely early. he opens his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to get used to the light; his crimson orbs scan the environment, and his face lights up when there's no danger around. he stretches his arms to shake off the remains of sleepiness and presses a good morning kiss on your shoulder.
he later decides to hunt or fish for fresh meat - depends on what you like more, but he'd be overjoyed if you let him do his signature dish! he doesn't go far, just enough to still keep an eye on you. don't worry - he's also prepared if you don't eat meat at all! he's more than happy to learn recipes to accommodate and just to simply make you smile more.
he starts a small fire nearby your sleeping form, the distance is enough to make you feel warm, but not enough to possibly hurt you. the crackling of fire wakes you up, along with the delicious smell of Kazuha's cooking. when he notices you slowly awakening, his mouth curves into a smile; he shifts next to you and kisses your nose.
he's trying to fight the grin creeping on his face every time you enjoy his food. really, that's why he does that every time you're traveling together. also, by this point - he still has a massive bed hair. please brush his hair in return. and braid it too - he'll touch the finished piece with a blush on his face and shyly thank you for being so kind to him.
also! he trusts you a lot and lets you change his bandage every morning. particular spots hurt more than the others and Kazu tries not to show his pain; but seeing how much care you're putting into it, disinfecting it, and kissing the pain away when he winces - the love stored in his heart makes the relief appear faster.
he ALWAYS makes sure you're all warm and comfy, especially in winter. Kazu covers you entirely with a thick blanket from his bag, the sole item in it during your shared travels. he's also willing to stay cuddled up together for a bit longer when he notices the snowfall outside. his warm breath fans over your neck as his arm over your waist tightens and brings you closer to him.
Dainsleif:
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again, another morning person - but slightly less by choice. as soon as Dainsleif shoots open his eyes, he tries to calm down his racing heart; he lets out a sigh of relief when his indigo eyes notice you sound asleep.
he smiles shyly at your intertwined hands. he brings them closer to his face, pressing a sweet kiss on each of your knuckles, careful not to wake you up and give you a bit more time to rest.
even though you've expressed multiple times that you hate it - Dain can't stop guarding you right after awakening himself. He won't get back to sleep no matter what, keeping an eye out on the possible danger. He's aware that you don't like it - but he can't let anything happen to you, not even a scratch if he's nearby. You're everything he has left. He's lost everything else and despite being aware of the strength that gods possess, he's willing to cross blades with them if it meant extending your life more in return.
he always shifts your resting body on his - sometimes just your head on his lap so you can sleep a bit more comfortably, or entirely, so he keeps you secure between his legs, using his chest as a pillow and having his arms wrapped around you tightly.
"Good morning, my star. How was your sleep? Did you have any pleasant dreams?" is his daily mantra he says when he sees you arise. Next, Dain caresses your lips with his own in a tender kiss. if you decide that you feel cheesy that morning, answer something along these lines: "it seems like I haven't awoken from my pleasant dream yet." his cheeks will flush cherry red, hand flying to cover the blush immediately; even if you can't see it, you know it worked. it always does.
Dainsleif might not be kazuha-tier when it comes to cooking, so he prefers to take you to various taverns for your first meal if it's possible (yes, he's in mom-mode when it comes to breakfast and won't stop until you eat, because "breakfast must not be skipped. it's the most important meal!"). however, when that option isn't available, he prepares you a meal himself. some recipes are long forgotten, they taste like nothing else you've eaten before - they taste bizarre at first, but later on dain finally hits the jackpot and discovers your favorite. while your stomach gets filled with khaenri'ahn delicacies, his chest almost suffocates with the warmth and he watches you with twinkling eyes and the most tender smile.
Alhaitham:
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this man. he ZOOMS out of bed as soon as the alarm rings. immediately puts on half of his clothes. when he's about to leave the room... he comes back near the bed, gives you a quick kiss on the forehead, and then moves to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee and your favorite drink.
he really wants to avoid Kaveh. he will NOT deal with him in the morning, nuh uh. unless he can make his day a bit worse than Kaveh anticipates...
either way, he lets you sleep 20 more minutes. the exact moment the clock on his wall hits 7:20am, he returns to your shared room and gently shakes you to wake you up. if you don't comply, he just takes you bridal style to the kitchen and sits you on his lap, regardless of whether you still sleep.
he loves pressing you tightly to his chest, inhaling the fresh scent of your laundry detergent and your own, natural one; he hides his face in your neck, closing his eyes. his lips connect with your neck and leave a trail of kisses, while his defined arm tightens around your waist. perhaps that will wake you up?
hearing Kaveh entering the kitchen and greeting you (and mumbling something to him too, but clearly not genuine) he looks at him with a slight annoyance. Kaveh merely lets out a "hmph" sound, clearly unaware of what Alhaitham is about to do. the scribe locks eyes with him shortly before going back to kissing your neck, but this time marking you; the obscene noises cause you to immediately awaken if you haven't, and Kaveh storming out of the room with a blush, muttering curses under his breath. Alhaitham only chuckles as you turn your head to face him, "good morning, love. you've finally woken up. we have to leave soon, so hurry up and drink it before it gets cold like last time."
on his day off, his day starts similarly - he wakes up a bit later though, but still needs his morning coffee. with the steaming drink on his nightstand, he joins you back below the cozy sheets, sitting down with his back against the headboard. he glances at you one last time and kisses your lips ever so slightly, the touch so tender that you barely register it; then, his eyes are glued to the book in hand he's been reading for a few days. if you wish, he'll gladly have you between his legs and let you snore on his chest - you don't even have to say a thing - he automatically rises his arm and waits for you to move without moving his eyes from the book. once you've settled comfortably, he pulls up the duvet and puts his chin on your head (and occasionally rubs your back gently, but denies it. even if you catch him. every time).
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michelle-is-writing · 11 months
Text
Tired, Spencer Reid
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Word Count: 800~
A case that takes more than a week to solve usually tires Spencer out to the point that he's zoning in and out of sleep as he enters the apartment. This case was no different. In fact, he was so tired out from everything that the first thing he did was plop down on the couch after dropping his bags by the door. Usually, he'll take them to the bedroom and unpack, and usually, he won't start falling asleep two seconds after pushing his face into my lap either.
Moving the book in my hands over to the side, I peer down at him and smile with an eyebrow raised. "Tired much?" I joke with him, taking a hand away from my book and placing it on top of Spencer's fluffy hair. He tiredly groans in response to my words before turning his face up to greet mine, only to be blocked by the book in my hands.
"I see you've begun reading from my side of the bookshelf," He notes with an exhausted smile. My smile brightens as I look back at the printed words of the many poets and writers during the transcendentalism era. "It fell when I was dusting earlier, and I've always enjoyed poems and short stories, so I decided I would read it," I explain, placing a finger in the book so I don't lose my place.
Planting his face back into my lap, Spencer speaks up. "How far have you gotten?" He asks, his voice muffled by my legs. I look back at the unread page in my hands and look for my previous spot.
"Currently, I'm in the middle of The Birthmark by Nathanael Hawthorne," I answer. "Do you want me to read it to you?" I question him, smiling as I comb my fingers through his hair.
"I would love that," He tells me, his eyes closing soon after. As soon as I see him do this, I just know he's going to fall asleep within a few seconds. Nonetheless, I still begin reading it to him, trying to make him stay awake for just a bit longer by keeping my voice slightly raised.
"Such a union took place and was attended with truly remark- Spencer?" Not even ten seconds pass after I begin reading that Spencer's snores start overriding my voice. Looking down at him, I hold back a laugh before nudging his shoulder. "Spencer?" I say his name. "Spencer...?" I repeat myself, drawing on his name until I see him lightly jolt and wake up.
"Did you already finish?" He asks, his voice already groggy. This time, I don't hold back my amused laughter and watch as the messy-haired goofball stares at me, confused.
"Baby," I begin. "I barely even started before you fell asleep," I inform him, his eyebrows furrowing in even more confusion. Upon realizing it's the truth, he sighs before replanting his head back onto my lap.
"I'm sorry..." he apologizes, reaching a hand up to rest on my knee. He runs his thumb against the soft material of my pajama pants before eventually stopping, growing tired even with that.
"It's okay, sweetie," I assure Spencer, placing his book beside me on the couch before moving to stand up. Taking his hands into mine, I pull him up with me, causing his sluggish body to slump against me. However, Spencer quickly takes this chance to wrap his arms around me and hold me closer to him as he gently sways us in his hold. For a few moments, I savor his touch until the thought occurs to me that if he falls asleep and goes down, I'm going down with him.
"Spencer, honey, let's get you to bed," I murmur to him, receiving a small nod against my neck in response. Still, it takes a few seconds for Spencer to pull his face away from my neck and part from my embrace, showing me Spencer was probably enjoying our embrace like me as well.
After walking to our shared room with Spencer nearly stumbling behind me, I help him change out of his work clothes and into just his boxers before turning to grab him his pajamas. However, before I can grab anything, I feel Spencer wrap his arms around me from behind. "Honey, let me grab your pajamas," I tell him with a small laugh as he almost whines.
"I'm okay, baby," He murmurs as he nuzzles his face into my neck like earlier. "Let's just get to bed," he adds. I can't help but simply nod at his words before turning and walking us over to our bed. As I pull the bed covers over, I feel Spencer begin to place light kisses down my neck. "I'll make it up to you for coming home so late~"
Shaking my head at his sudden mood change, I smirk at him before helping him lie down on our beige sheets and pulling the comforter over him despite his weak protests. "Tomorrow," I promise him, moving over to my side of the bed where I lie next to him. Without a second to spare, I feel myself become trapped in Spencer's arms just as he succumbs to a deep slumber. Spencer's soft snores from earlier return within seconds, making me slightly laugh to myself. He's so tired, it's like he's drunk - hence the sudden want for intimacy. I think I'll have a talk with Hotch tomorrow; he needs to stop sending my boyfriend home half-asleep and unsupervised.
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lixie-phoria · 1 month
Text
[ 18.0 epiphany ] BETTER THAN REVENGE !
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◂ previous | masterlist | next ▸
warnings - a little suggestive
an - I had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope you enjoy it too 😋
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"you seem distracted."
jeongin snaps from his daze, eyes blinking rapidly as he tries to focus on your words.
"sorry," he mumbles sheepishly, sitting up straighter as he pulls his laptop closer to his face, purposely avoiding your eyes.
"are you sure you're okay? you've been acting weird all week."
he really wishes you wouldn't ask him that.
not when a) you're the reason he's been so out of it, and b) you've barely even seen him all week - too busy doing god knows what with yeonjun.
he shrugs, flashing you a small smile from across the table before bending over his laptop, reading the same one line from his notes over and over again.
but it was nearly impossible to concentrate when jeongin was uncomfortably aware of your shoes brushing against his under the table every time you moved or the way your perfume wafted towards him every time the breeze blew.
he was downright enraptured by the way your baby hair framed your face and the way one strap of your top was ever so slightly sliding down your shoulder and the way your lips would fall into a small pout every time you got stuck over a concept and the way your fingers would wrap around your coffee cup every few minutes to take a sip - pretty fingers he couldn't help but imagine wrapped around something else.
oh gods.
he was down so horrendously bad he wanted to face plant into a solid tree and hope for some sense to be knocked into him.
after his conversation with chan last week he had been so determined to prove he didn't like you that way. he only saw you as a friend.
he scoffed at the last thought. he had done nothing but prove himself wrong over the last week. he definitely did not think of you as a 'friend' the same way he thought of the others. and he wanted to jump off a cliff for letting it get this far.
he hadn't even anticipated actually falling for you when he first texted you. he had done it in the heat of the moment, and you had agreed, and he thought all his problems were solved. he did not, however, know what he would be getting himself into.
"ok innie you're worrying me now, what's up with you?"
the way you said innie. the way it rolled off your tongue so prettily, every syllable sending a torrent of butterflies in his stomach.
and the way your tongue flicked in your mouth every time you pronounced the nick name actually drove him crazy.
"jeongin!"
he nearly falls out of his chair as you snap your fingers, brows furrowed in worry.
"sorry you were saying?"
he sounds so shaken up he wants to bury himself alive and never have to face you again.
"you're worrying me jeongin. is something wrong?"
no. don't call me jeongin!
he shakes his head, giving you what he hopes is a reassuring smile.
"ah nothing, just a little worried about our test today."
the test. right. of course.
the test he was supposed to be revising for but could barely concentrate every time he came across a point you had specifically written for him to remember and his thoughts jumped to you and how concentrated you had looked when you explained it to him.
"oh," you shook your head a bit, and his soul nearly leaves his body when you place your hand reassuringly over his. "don't worry about that, I know you'll do well!"
his soul definitely leaves his body when you smile at him and your touch lingers for a bit as you pull your hand back.
"thanks," he tries saying, but his mouth is so dry when he notices you run your tongue over your lips.
and then you go back to studying, but his eyes dart to your collar bone, most of which is covered up by your top but he can see - very faintly - the hickey yeonjun had probably given you and his blood boils.
but it does help him ground himself.
you have a boyfriend. you're not even single. he should really just give up.
but he can't. not when you're so nice to him. not when he has to spend so much time with you. it's nearly impossible.
he watches - or rather stares - with lips slightly parted as you tilt your head to the side, oblivious to his gaze, tongue poking at one side of your cheek.
it takes him back to the night of jackson wang's party - you pushed up against him, your body fitting so perfectly in his arms, and the shiver that ran through you every time he leaned down to whisper something.
it takes him back to the day of the soccer match - how your ears had burned when you accepted his jersey, how it had fallen over your figure, and how his name and jersey number flashed proudly at the back.
fuck.
it hits him like an epiphany - chan had been right.
you definitely weren't just a friend.
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hezzabeth · 3 months
Text
By the year 3856 animals are a myth. Insects however are incredibly common. Due to the colonization of the solar system there are also many mutant off breeds. The Phoeben Scorpion is native to the terraformed moon known as Phoebe. Over the centuries it has invaded our moons and satellites. The Phoeben Scorpion has a colorful candy like appearance.They are considered to be a delicious and popular snack food.
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"Don't you want to watch the next log and find out how it ends?" Brigadeiro asked.
"It probably ends the way all fairytales do, with the Duke taking one look at Dityaa and falling madly in love! Just like everyone else," Revati said, pressing the side of her bangle, causing it to turn off.
"Not everyone falls in love with your sister at first sight, I didn't," Brigadeiro said, shooting Revati a sly, knowing look.
It was the same knowing look that he had given her on a bridge at sunrise, in a tent during winter, and once under fireworks. A warm, dark-eyed look that would have made a weaker person tremble at the knees.
"That's because you imprinted on me the second I saved your life, like Phoeben scorpions," Revati shot back.
"Phoeben scorpions?" Brigadeiro had to ask.
"You know, the scorpions on the Phoebe satellite, the ones that imprint on their mates and then end up starving to death," Revati said.
"Are those the fried ones they sell in coffee shops with the cupcakes?" Brigadeiro asked with a small grimace.
"Yep, the more sick with love they are, the sweeter they taste," Revati said, shutting her eyes and savoring the taste of the scorpions.
Brigadeiro held up his hand for a moment and quickly licked it.
"Well, look at that, I taste just like sugar," Brigadeiro winked, and Revati rolled her eyes.
"You really are ridiculous," she replied, and he took her hand, holding it up to his lips.
"And I bet you taste like dark chocolate... not quite as sweet as me," he said before his lips grazed her knuckles. Revati felt herself glance upwards into those familiar eyes, and Revati blushed.
……
Nine minutes past midnight. Brigadeiro's room was filled with pale blue moonlight. Revati was twenty-one years old.
She had, of course, fooled around on the road before. A few times in her tent, sometimes in the middle of a forest. On one memorable occasion, one thousand feet above Mars' surface with the aid of hover boots.
Never in a bed, however. Never with a person who actually fell asleep next to her afterwards. Brigadeiro was a decent sleep companion; he didn't snore and he stayed on his side of the bed. Revati had to admit his back curved down in a way that she rather liked. Still, it was nine past midnight. Revati got off the bed and walked towards the window. The garden's shadows reminded her of her father's inky blue hair. The tables and chairs outside had long ago been abandoned. Someone was darting across the lawn, trying their best to stay in the darkest shadows. The person was heading towards the kitchen house. In Revati's experience, people with nothing to hide didn't even notice shadows. Revati tiptoed to her backpack and grabbed her trusty pants. Sliding into them, she felt the way she always did, like a warrior heading out to meet her destiny.
Everything was quiet and still. The front door of the kitchen house was flung wide open, something that would never happen in Olde Landon.
Pecan was actually asleep on the path next to the door, cuddling a giant inflatable apple. Revati crept lightly inside, her feet barely touching the floor, her weight being carried in her hips. Something was making a faint shifting sound in the rose room.
Revati reached into her left pants pocket, pulling out the tiny container of mushroom tent spores. Carefully and ever so gently, she crept into the rose room. Someone was stooping over Dityaa, and as far as Revati was concerned, that was all she needed to know. Revati undid the top of the container and blew the spores towards the figure.
Within seconds, the fungus blossomed and twisted, wrapping itself around the figure who was now gasping in horror. The rose room suddenly filled with light, and the figure fell to the ground like a caterpillar, half stuck in a cocoon. It was Paulette.
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strawberryblue-blog · 1 month
Text
Cuddling together
—FC Barcelona.
summary: How would they react to cuddling together at night?
warnings: none. soft, cute.
#SEXYNOTE: I will use few players but if you want to add you can leave it in the comments also the list of players you want in your request.
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Pedri Gonzalez.
Against your chest.
Even if Pedri wants to be serious and masculine in the relationship, when you go to rest he is the opposite. He looks like a little boy waiting for his mother to tuck him in. In fact I could say that is his favorite time when you are together, sleeping on your chest. The warmth of your arms wrap around him and he rests his head in the hollow of your breasts, his nose sniffs and he sighs contentedly. 'Make cuddles in my hair' he would ask.
Your fingers delve into Pedri's brown hair and he begins to fall asleep with your little touches. One of your legs goes across his hips and wraps around him, grabbing hold of him to sleep still with Pedri on top of you.
He loves being in your arms, he can hear your heartbeat as he falls asleep and feels comforted and safe, yet he finds it so intimate and loving.
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Ferran Torres.
Little spoon.
When it's time to rest, Ferran is always the biggest spoon. He waits for you every night with his hands open for you to snuggle against him. Leaning his body against yours is one of his favorite things to do. He likes to cover you completely, you know that his love is warmth and he feels like he takes control over you and you won't be able to escape his arms. Especially, because his arms wrap tightly around you and hold you giving you warmth.
He likes to kiss the back of your neck, hair and shoulders. He really gives a lot of attention to this part, he knows how much it relaxes you to be caressed and he will give you everything he can.
Probably at night, you turn to face him and kiss the bridge of his nose, Ferran is a deep sleeper, so he will never know about it and then you go back to your safe place.
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Pablo Gavi.
On top of his body.
When they go to bed, Gavi is a very naughty child before going to sleep. He never sits still. He will play with you until you get tired and fall asleep, so he will grab your body and lay it on his with a single push. He is mischievous and looks at you teasingly when you lean on his chest with your elbows then he wraps his arms around you.
He just smiles proudly, after all he just wants to have on top of him. You rest your face on his chest and Gavi's fingers immediately caress your hips, then he moves up your back until he reaches your hair. He stays like this for a while until he falls asleep, just like you.
You sleep like this all night long you don't even move, maybe it's because of habit.
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Joao Felix.
Up and between your legs.
Since you usually get to bed before Joao, when he comes home you are usually already asleep. Your eyes barely open and Joao climbs onto the bed. He carefully spreads your legs and places his body between them, then grabs them again to wrap them around his back. He uses your belly as a pillow and his hands grab yours, sometimes placing them on your belly and caressing it.
Literally you are well entangled but that's how you tend to sleep most of the time. Even Floki gets under your arms.
When you wake up, you'll see how your boyfriend is still between your legs and hugging your belly tightly. Without hesitation, you admire him for a few moments until you see Joao open his eyes and smile at you.
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Fermin Lopez.
Inverted spoon.
He likes to hold you but when the night comes, he expects you to be. Your bodies fit together perfectly, Fermin leans his body against your chest and you circle his big back until you grab him. One of your legs crosses over his waist and you cling to him completely. If he's very cuddly, one of his hands goes down to your thighs and squeezes them gently caressing them.
Normally you sleep like that, he's not ashamed to be the little spoon. He grabs your hand and caresses your back with his thumb, until he falls asleep.
Fermin is a bit restless and when he wakes up he is in the middle of the bed, so you bring him back to his place and cuddle him in your arms.
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starlight-writer · 8 months
Text
How They Cuddle
A/n: Started this while I was stuck in traffic with a tornado warning going on. Later found out 4 touched down around me so basically God said I couldn't die until I posted this
Warnings: none, fluff, angst, semi serious? Talks of death, read with that in mind on Jake's part
Gn! Reader Masterlist
Steven
Tummy hugger
Doesn't matter the size, how hot it is inside, he will latch onto your waist and rest his head on your tummy
Prefers a bare tummy so he can feel your soft skin, but he's happy as long as he gets to hold you
And if you pet his head or play with his hair too? He's a goner
Those sleeping problems he has from time to time? Gone
Those night terrors that keep him up for hours? A thing of the past
He sleeps best when it's with you and when it's on your perfect, soft, warm tummy? He sleeps like a baby
There are, of course, nights where he's had a really bad day and he needs a bit more from you
Those are the nights where he'll ask you to lay on him
He wants to be surrounded by the thing he loves the most
And if you even try to say 'oh, I'll crush you!' he will forcibly pull you on top of him
"Yea right, you forget I was an avatar of Khonshu, love. I'm buff as fuck." He would mumble while burying his head in your hair or shoulder
It's not necessarily a lie, but it gets you to laugh
Pressure therapy is strong with this one
He has so many weighted blankets, it's ridiculous
And usually he doesn't use them now that he has you, but when there are days when you're not home or don't feel like cuddling, Steven will break out his massive pile of weighted blankets
It's honestly really cute seeing Steven all bundled up and only his head poking out of a mountain of blankets
Marc
Lays directly on top of you
Lowkey scared of crushing you so it takes a while for him to admit how he'd prefer to cuddle, but it happens eventually
Marc wants to protect you, you're the love of his life and he couldn't take it if he lost you
So he lays on you to be your shield
If anyone breaks into the apartment, which they probably wouldn't even make it past the front door before Marc absolutely destroys them, but if they do he's the first one they'll attack
And as long as you're safe, he's happy
It's a deeper reason than the others, but it's true
If he's had a bad day, it'll be different
He'll curl up into you, looking so small and vulnerable
He'll bury his face in your chest and hold onto you like you're his life line
Which you are
If you play with his hair and rub his back, maybe even hum to him, he'll pass out in no time
He feels safe in your arms and while he's not used to feeling so vulnerable, he feels like he can be with you
On the other hand, there are very rare nights where Marc will ask you to suffocate him
Not really, of course
He just needs the pressure of you laying on top of him to chase away his dark thoughts
Works every time
Not during nightmares though
Never try that during or after a nightmare
Marc will panic so hard, he might accidentally hurt you and he would rather die than do that to you
Jake
Jake is a little different than Steven and Marc
He doesn't have a preference of cuddles, as long as he can feel your skin somewhere on him, he's ok
It's not in a weird way though
If he can feel your skin, he can feel how warm you are and if he can feel how warm you are, he knows you're not dead
It's morbid, but he's seen so much and caused so much death so he's trying to reassure himself that you're not dead too
He'll have his hands under your shirt and resting on your hips, or hike your leg over his hip to feel your thighs, or sleep with his cheek pressed against your tummy
Anywhere is fair game to him as long as you're comfortable
But then there are nights where he would rather die than feel your skin
It's usually nights where he's had to kill quite a few people and while he usually handles death quite well, he has you now
He's learned to be something other than a tool for Khonshu and a shield for Marc and Steven
Those nights, he'll lay next to you and watch you breathe
The only part of you he touches is your wrist to feel your heart beat
Similar to Steven, he will ask you to occasionally lay on him, just so he can feel you pressed up against him
Not in a sexual way, though he's not ashamed to admit he would enjoy that, just in a way so he can feel a bit more of you than he normal would
And honestly, when as asks you to lay on him, it leads to some kind of make out session
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florymere · 1 year
Note
Hiii.❤️❤️
This morning I saw your fanfic about Joel and I was like OMG, I need to read it as soon as possible. And I did I loved it. 👉👈🥺❤️
So I see your requests are open so I thought I can ask something. Can you write a Joel fanfic where he is the dominant one but he let the reader take control for once, like tie him up or something. And he watches the reader as she cums over and over again but he can't touch himself and he begs. Something like that. Uhh and add a little bit of sir kink please.
Thank you.❤️❤️❤️
Control - Joel Miller smut
💕 thank you sweetheart. I'm so happy you liked it. It was the first fic in a very long time that I wrote for a new character. 💕
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Warnings: 69, dirty talk, bondage, sir kink, pure smut...
"You want what?" Joel voice interrupts the oppressive silence that has reigned after your question.
Begging, you look up at him as you sit on your bed clad only in his shirt, "Please?"
He looks more surprised than really averse to your question, even if it is rather unusual.
Your dynamic is clearly defined and normally you wouldn't even think of asking him about it, but just today, when you've seen him flirting quite openly with another woman, you really want to.
The only problem is that he has to say yes because you wouldn't be able to physically get him to do it on your own.
He could just push you off of him and he'd probably laugh at your bad plan too.
You bite your lower lip and bat your eyelashes, "I really want to try it, Joel."
His eyes slide over your body before he looks you in the face again and then sighs, "Fine, whatever. Move over."
Excited, you do as he says and murmur a soft, "Thank you, sir."
He barely responds to your submissiveness and pulls his belt from his pants to hand it to you.
Excitedly, you reach for it and Joel sluggishly drops himself onto the bed. 
His movements are slow and completely unimpressed as you crawl on top of him and he holds his wrists in front of your face.
It seems like he doesn't care at all that you're putting his belt around his wrists. 
Every time you're in his current position, you're already trembling with anticipation and writhing underneath him, but with him, it just looks like he's doing you a huge favor.
You tighten his belt and he growls, "Do you even know what to do if I can't touch you?"
Jerkily, you look him in the eye and the arrogance with which he looks at you doesn't leave you cold.
That's exactly why things are going so well between you. 
He's more of a dominant and demanding character by nature, while you like to let him make you small, especially in the bedroom.
Even now that he's the one you're now tying to your bed frame, he remains cocky and you avoid his gaze as you pull on his tied hands again for a test, which makes him grunt softly.
Satisfied, you let go of him and look down at the man below you.
As you expected, from the look he gives you, he doesn't seem to be averse to being the immobile one for once, but he doesn't know what you're up to yet.
Quietly clearing your throat, you lick your lips, "Don't worry. I'll do my best, sir."
Interested, he follows you with his eyes as you slide back so that your butt rests between his legs on the bed and you place your feet to the left and right of his narrow hips.
Because you're not wearing any panties, this gives him a direct view of your pussy, already glistening with wetness, and you smile slightly as his hands clench into fists.
Oh, he would regret underestimating you and flirting with this blonde.
You make yourself comfortable between his legs and as you slide your hand between your thighs, he almost breaks his neck to see more.
His hair is sticking out in all directions and his dark eyes are glued to your fingers, which spread your labia and then gently play with your clit.
Granted, it doesn't feel as good as Joel's fingers, but his greedy gaze and the bulge in his pants that's becoming more obvious are enough for you for now.
Using your feet, you push his shirt a little higher, needing at least some contact with his bare skin, then moan hoarsely, "You like the view?"
His thighs twitch and he growls, "Shove your fingers up your cunt."
Out of habit, you do as he says with two fingers and you throw your head back.
In response, a jolt goes through his body and you open your eyes.
A soft whimper escapes your lips as you finger fuck yourself while Joel lies completely at your mercy, unable to take his eyes off your leaking pussy for anything in the world.
With each thrust of your fingers, you set up a mess between your legs, and with a thumb on your clit, it's not long before you're moaning harshly, "Joel...oh god...Joel..." Your voice breaks toward the end and your pussy throbs around your fingers as Joel tugs at his bound hands for the first time and barks, "Come here."
But you fight the reflex to obey him, shaking your head still sluggish from your orgasm, "No."
Incredulous, he tries to sit up, which of course is completely pointless, and he hisses, "Sugar, you do what I ask you to do right now, or else-"
Your eyebrows go up and you interrupt him, "Or else what? Are you flirting with that blonde chick again?"
You roll onto your stomach and he growls, "Is that what this is about? I wasn’t serious about that at all."
"Well, too bad I took it seriously," you lift your ass and slide over him until your pussy is hovering over his face like an unattainable reward and you rest your head on his thigh so your face is inches away from his now hard cock.
It's hell on earth that you won't touch him and he can't do anything about it himself either, that his cock is pressing painfully against t his pants and he can't do anything but look at your wet swollen cunt.
Grinning, you bite your lower lip as he lifts his head again and tries to press his lips on your throbbing sex, but just before touching you he can't get any further and frustratedly drops his head back on his pillow: "Okay, I get it. What do you want? Do you want me to ask for your forgiveness? I'm sorry and it will never happen again."
Again you let your hand slide between your legs and with a quick glance at his crotch, you see his cock twitch and you purr, "I accept your apology."
Your fingertips slide up through your cleft from the bottom and Joel rears back, "Then undo me or take my cock in your mouth, I don't care."
Your juices run down your thighs and you moan softly against his wrapped cock, "No sir."
With all his strength he pulls on the belt and you're glad the restraints don't give up because he would punish you hard for your ordeal and instead he grumbles, "Fuck, what the hell do you want?"
His cock feels like it's strangled and he wouldn't need anything more than a kiss from you on its tip to come, but you continue unperturbed, now fingering yourself inches from his face, "Beg me."
Again a jolt goes through his body, "What?"
It goes against his whole being to beg for something, even as you moan, "Beg me to take your cock in my mouth."
Silently, he remains lying there, staring at your cunt, which you are now fingering faster and more urgently.
Joel can see your pussy tighten around your fingers again and again and as you move your head a little on his thigh he curses loudly, "Oh fuck it. Will you please take my cock in your mouth, sugar?"
"I'm not convinced yet," you let your fingers slide out of your tight cunt and he turns his head a little to lick your juices off your thigh with his tongue and your body gives in almost completely at his warm tongue lash.
You stroke your finger over your swollen clit and you notice him give up, murmuring softly, "Please touch me, sugar. Please? I swear to you, I'll never even look at any woman again, but please, please suck my cock."
Satisfied, you whimper, "Yes, sir." And grab his pants with both hands, freeing his hard cock.
Freed from the confines of his pants, Joel moans deeply and at that moment you lower your hips and press your cunt against his mouth as you lick the precum from his cock and let it slide into your mouth.
The deep growl from his throat vibrates against your sensitive sex and you whimper with your mouth full.
As if it were his calling, he licks your cunt, pushing his hips towards your pretty lips again and again to get deeper into your throat.
With your hands you grab his balls and when you hear Joel's deep and loud moan, he already comes in your mouth.
Hectically you try to swallow it all as he sucks your clit in an uncoordinated way and you collapse on top of him, trembling and with your pussy pulsating.
It all happened so fast that you couldn't get it all down your throat and some of his cum drips out of your mouth as you roll off his strong body and finally look him in the eye again.
His gaze follows the wet trail on your chin and the drops of his cum dripping down to your thighs, "Sugar..."
Blinking, you look down at him and he licks his wet lips, "Untie me."
His voice is soft and as obedient as you normally are, you nod, "Yes, sir."
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Thanks for reading my fic 💙
Gif is not mine 💗
It's my side blog so I'll answer comments with my main blog (@catt-leya) 💕
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prettynice8 · 4 months
Text
Kinkmas Day 6: Size kink
Pairing: Akaza x male reader
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This guy
Warnings: size kink DUH, swearing, sex, reader rides Akaza, pretty fluffy
Word count: 1,237
You were just relaxing in the comfort of your own home when you heard something open, then a cold breeze washed over you, causing a chill to run down your spine. Your body shot right up and OH MY GOD.
No I'm just fucking with you, it was just your big demon friend Akaza.
"Sorry, did I startle you?" He asked, noticing your body shooting up off of your couch. You breath rapidly, clutching your chest from the spook he gave you.
"Oh no, I'm fine." You said, clearly lying. His large body walks closer to you, and you feel a tingle down your neck every time he steps closer. You never get used to his large body, strong muscular arms and abs that he always shows off. His fluffy pink hair that you just yearn to run your hands through, his tattoos that you would love to chase the outlines of with your finger while he's sleeping off a night of heated passion and yes you were absolutely in love with him.
Obviously, he didn't know, though you weren't very secretive about it. Always staring at him a little too long and your touches a little too lasting. You were practically obsessed, and you never really knew if he felt the same way. I mean sure you catch him staring at you all the time, he also always stops over for seemingly no reason, and he cuddles you an awful lot, but that's just what friends do, right? And besides he had wife, but bi and pan people do exist. Huh.
Anygay, back to the his striking yellow eyes staring right into yours.
"You okay?" he questioned, breaking you out of your haze and returning all of your attention back on him.
"I'm swell." You replied, still caught in his large frame, like seriously this mother fucker DWARFS you. His biceps are practically the size of your head, oh and those abs. "So why are you here?" you asked, though you already kind of know, he's probably just here because he felt like it.
"Just felt like it." He answered. Yep, called it. For such an evil demon or whatever he sure is predictable. You plop a seat on the couch and pat the spot next to you.
"Take a seat." you said, finally reacting normally like he was your just a friend, which he was, right? You honestly don't fucking know at this point. He obliges, sitting on the spot you patted.
"So, how's life?" he asked, trying to spark conversation.
"Pretty ok, you?" You questioned back.
"Better now that you're here." He replied, the chuckled after, you roll your eyes. "But really, I am grateful to talk to you."
"You could do that anytime." You stated, surprised by his response. He comes a little closer to you now, to the point where your sides are touching.
"And that's why I'm grateful." He said. This is definitely weird, right?
It's quiet for a while after that, you don't really know how to respond to his sudden declaration of gratitude. It remains that way, silently sitting next to each other, you feel his large arm brush against your own. It remains that way for a while until he SUDDENLY KISSES YOU!
You are completely stunned until finally realizing what's going on, then you kiss him right back. He breaks away,
"I'm sorry if that was uncalled for, I just really needed to." He apologizes, you make it clear to him that it was very warranted by kissing him. He automatically kisses you back, his tongue already in your mouth. His tongue starts to explore your mouth, dancing with yours.
His breaks once again to put you on top of him. You barely fill up his massive lap, once he plops you into his lap, he goes right back to kissing you. Your hands do what they have wished to do for months now, you run your hands through his soft pink hair while his hands go for your plump ass. This causes you to let out a little moan, allowing his tongue to go deeper down your mouth, practically being in the back of your throat now, but kissing isn't enough for him right now.
He takes off his vest, obviously not much changing sense already was shirtless, but he also takes your shirt off. He then goes to removing your pants, but before he can take his own off you stop him. His face is one of confusion until you kneel down right in front of him, taking them off for him. His giant cock springs free, and when I tell you it's giant, I mean GIANT.
You begin to lick the tip, causing small noises to come out of Akaza's mouth, but you have the rest of your life to suck his dick, so you get right back up on your designated place on his lap. He sticks his fingers in your ass, spreading just enough to where his member will probably still rip you in half, but at least this time it won't be instant.
He sticks it in, taking a long-time since he is SO FUCKING BIG. His massive cock splitting you open. After what feels like hours only the tip is in. Tears start to form in the corner of your eyes due to the discomfort.
"Shush baby, it's ok." He assured, though it's awfully hard to believe that. Right when you think that it will never go in, he kisses you deeply and passionately, calming your down enough to where he's able to be balls deep.
You let out a sigh of relief and a yelp of pain from his huge dick moving so much so quickly after not moving at all. Your hands rest on his muscled chest for traction, trying not to feint.
"Just tell me when you are ready." He said, not moving until getting the go from you that it's ok.
"Now." You said, and with that he puts hands on your ass and begins to lift you up and down slowly, not wanting to hurt you. You let out whines of discomfort.
"I'm sorry baby, it will start to feel good soon I promise." Akaza reassured, feeling bad for you. He calms you down with light kisses on your face, making sure to kiss the tears welling up in your eyes away as well.
When you get more comfortable with his size, he increases his pace. Lifting you on his girth quicker, the whines of displeasure now finally turning into moans of bliss.
"Told you dear." He said, glad that you're enjoying as much as he is. He keeps a steady and quick pace, then pumping his own hips into you, causing your moans to get louder.
Your tongue lulls out of your mouth, the pleasure now near over encompassing as you feel your release coming on so quickly, his dick really is something special.
"I'm close." You said, warning him on your coming release,
"Really, so quickly?" He replied in a surprised manner. You answer by sticking your tongue out at him, causing you both to breathlessly laugh.
His thrusts and lifting both get quicker and sloppier as he chases for both of your climaxes. You're the first, cumming all over his chest, he's next, cumming right in your ass.
"I LOVE YOU" You both say at the same time, finally cementing your relationship.
THE END
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