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saetoru · 2 years

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Manjiro loves your plush thighs. But imagine his surprise when you wrap your legs around him for the first time as he eats you out, your thighs on either side of his head. You apologized thinking he was having trouble moving but that only made him claw onto your thighs not even letting you go as he continued pleasuring you but he wants you to crush His skull as he eats you out

He just loves your thighs okay:(((i mean who doesn't love thighs <3)

NEVER ENOUGH — SANO MANJIRO.

☰ SYNOPSIS ⋮ sano manjiro x reader — 1.1k words — manjiro thinks in all honesty, he could spend forever between your thighs if you let him

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, cunnilingus, clit + thigh kissies :,), teasing, begging, fingering, overstimulation, use of pet names (princess), you only refer to him as manjiro bc i think its more intimate like that okay :(

— notes ⋮ happy (slightly late) birthday to manjiro the man i started tokrev for. ily dearly even tho u make me so sad

it’s instinctive—the way your legs clamp around his head as his tongue flattens and strokes over your clit. it makes you whine, your head falling back against the plush of the pillows under you. you have a shaky apology ready as soon as it happens, hanging loosely from your lips, just about to tumble out as your thighs ease off of his head—but to your surprise, manjiro almost growls, hands moving up and keeping you firmly in place as his fingers dig into your plush skin. he tosses both legs over his shoulders, burying himself deeper into your pussy, like it’s the last thread keeping him hanging onto a lifeline, like the first drop of rain after a drought falls on his tongue as he licks a stripe along your entrance.

you whimper, gifting him with the sweetest of sounds as his tongue fucks into you, gliding along your folds before moving back to your clit. this time, when his tongue flicks across it, the back and forth motion making your legs squeeze around him once more, he groans against you. the vibrations make you gasp, your voice quivering as you call out his name like a prayer.

“m-manjiro, fuck,” you mewl, moaning softly as his lips close around your clit and he sucks, tongue still rolling over it as he devours you like he’s been starved of sweetness his whole life—sweetness that only you offer, that he can only find with his head tucked between your legs.

“so wet,” he hums, pride laced in his tone, and when he pulls off with a gentle kiss to your clit, he chuckles playfully at the way you whine at the loss, “prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” he mumbles, “soaked just for me?”

and then he’s back to licking along your pussy before you can even beg him to, like the short interval he pulls away is a disservice to him more than it is you—like he needs your slick smearing along his chin and your clit bumping against his nose to breathe. your legs quiver over his shoulders, making a warm, callused palm rub over your thigh soothingly just as he buries his tongue a little deeper, moaning against your cunt as you cry out.

“more,” you whine—because he spoils you, always gives you the most until even that’s not enough either, always gives you more and more until you’re selfish enough to always expect it. so your fingers clutch onto his hair, wrapping around the strands and tugging as you pout down at him slightly before you sniffle, “more, please—’s not enough.”

“oh yeah?” he chuckles, pulling away again—but this time, the kiss is pressed to your inner thigh. he alternates the tender kisses he presses along your soft flesh, lips planting onto one leg at a time, slowly worshipping the skin like it’s a gift that’s divine and holy. manjiro thinks in all honesty, he could spend forever between your thighs if you let him. “spoiled you that rotten, huh? ‘s just not enough for you now?”

you nod before you can help it, “please baby, i need it,” you beg, wriggling your hips closer to his face, making him laugh quietly once more.

“what do you need?” he teases, grinning up at you smugly. there’s a small part of him that registers there’s an ache between his own legs, a throbbing of his own that could easily be tended to—but that’s not nearly as fun as playing with you like this.

“need you,” you huff, “need to cum,” your voice is impatient, desperate, pained even. and he just can’t have that.

so, with a soft hum of understanding, one finger sinks into you, and then another, and then he’s curling them into your sweet spot like he knows you down to your very core. you’re warm and slick around his fingers as he stretches you out, fluttering down on him as he presses into you with his fingertips right where you need him. and then his lips are latched onto your clit again, sucking around the sensitive bud as he bullies his digits into your tight walls over and over.

the wet, squelching sound of him fucking into your pussy fills the room, mixing with your moans and the soft calls of his name, familiar like a record he plays throughout the day as if it’s his favorite song. this is his favorite part of the song—the part where there’s a higher pitch of your voice, the breathy pants, and the borderline sobs that get louder as he feels your walls quiver against him when you’re close.

“‘s alright, princess,” he says softly as he presses another kiss to your thigh, “gotta spoil you like you deserve, right? make you cum nice and hard for me—can you do that?” you gasp as his tongue is once more flicking back and forth against your clit, his fingers thrusting into you quick and hard.

“fuck, fuck—feels good,” you cry, “manjiro—oh,” you gasp, feeling the ache build slowly until it’s almost too much all at once. you’re close—so close, that you can barely process that your hips are bucking into his fingers, meeting the thrust of his wrist halfway to bury him deeper into you, slamming against your spot each time he sinks into you until your vision blurs and the coil in your belly snaps. with a strangled whine, your mouth parts as you grind your hips onto his hand, letting him curl his digits into you and help you ride out your high.

“that’s it,” he grunts, “c’mon, princess, cum for me—always look so pretty when you do,” he says in awe, watching you with wide eyes, entranced at the way your face breaks with the devastation of your orgasm. your spine burns with pleasure, spreading across the rest of your body until your hips rise and your toes curl.

“‘m cumming—oh g-god,” you mewl, and when his mouth is still sucking harshly on your clit as his fingers languidly sink in and out of your cunt, you whimper with shaky thighs and squeeze around his head again, “‘s enough—t-too much, manjiro,” you whine.

“fuck,” he groans, finally pulling away—although reluctantly. there’s wetness smeared against his lips and his chin, and he stares at your appearance for a moment, taking in the sweat clinging to your forehead and the tears clinging to your lashes.

and then he curses under his breath.

the strain of his swollen cock against his pants can wait—right now, he needs you to fall apart on his tongue again, missing your taste like a man starved and on the brink of death.

“one more, princess,” he grunts, face pressing back in between your legs, his breath fanning over your entrance and making you shiver, “just one more, yeah?”

you almost want to call him a liar, but manjiro looks up at you with pleading eyes and a hopeful face—and because you spoil him just as bad as he spoils you, you just can’t say no.

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rat3ggs · 2 months

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This will be short angst I suppose?

This is my third fic I’ve ever written! I wanted to do Rengoku but for some reason I couldn’t find it in myself to finish it, maybe tomorrow! This fic is short at just 670 words.

Warning; Yandere Douma, controlling behaviour, talks of past injuries (Douma cuts you), gender neutral reader! And as always some bad grammar and punctuation.

His little Lotus.

You joined the eternal paradise cult during a dark time in your life, you were blinded by the leader's charisma and charm.. his open arms around you made you almost forget about all the pains of life.

You’ve always thought you were decent at reading people, god were you wrong. The leader, Douma.. is a very handsome and charming man, the type of man you’d want to introduce to your parents or have as a husband- but you never really seen him in that spotlight.. more as an idol to be cherished and worshipped by his devout followers, you genuinely thought he was god.

It’s humiliating to admit, you also try not to hold it against yourself, he was very smart with the ways he manipulated you- what with all the people gushing about his greatness and how cleansed they feel after confessing their sins, their hopes, their prayers. You read something that said people trust beautiful people more, you can’t help but wonder.. if Douma was ugly would you be in this situation?

You’ll be the first to admit, yes it’s kind of your fault, you should have ran when you had the chance or you should have seen through his lies- but the truth is You genuinely couldn’t, looking back it felt like he had a blindfold wrapped tightly around your eyes and you were just following behind him as he guided you to a cliff, holding his hand while he walked you to your sorry demise.

Perhaps you aren’t dead, but this certainly cannot be living. You sit in a room all day until recently he let you start roaming the room, that kept you entertained for 10 minutes before you grew bored. at least you can bathe alone now, when he’s away at least.. which is almost never. on very VERY rare occasions will let you walk through the shrine grounds, it’s so painfully uncommon, even when you do he follows behind you.

But for now you’ll take solace in being alone before he comes and ruins the day..-

“Hello my beautiful lotus!”

Douma said in a sing-songy voice, with that same smile he always has plastered on his face. You just decide not to answer him and stay in bed, you feel like you're rotting away.

“Oh my, Lotus! you look so bored! do you need someone to talk with?”

He faked a sympathetic voice, at this point you know this monster can’t feel anything. He strides over to the bed and sat cross legged beside you, he then pulls you up effortlessly into his lap, his chest pressed against your back and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, he rested his head on top of yours, his skin felt so cold..

“Y/N, you can’t stay quiet forever, I’ll get bored!”

The last time he got bored he carved his name into your thigh with his nails, you shivered at the memory, it still stings so much.

“I want to leave, please.”

You didn’t mean to say it like that.. all sorrowful and quiet, but for some reason very suddenly, you couldn’t hold back the floodgate anymore, tears began streaming down your face- quiet sobs escaped your throat as you tried desperately to compose yourself, to not allow this shell of a man the pleasure to see the pain he’s caused you.

“You can’t my dear, you can’t leave. Don’t you remember how broken you were when I found you? Now you're loved and cared for, why are you being so ungrateful?”

He sighed softly and looked up at the ceiling, he glided his fingers over the wound on your thigh that skillfully spelled out his name. He rocked your sobbing form.

“You won’t leave me, Y/N.”

He smiled once more and rested his head back on top of yours, he didn’t say “can’t” or “will not” like a demand, he said it like he was promising you the absolute truth.

You’ll never be able to escape him, will you?

#demon slayer #kny douma #douma #kny #yandere #light angst #douma x reader #demon slayer fic #douma x you #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba douma #reader insert

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bakuliwrites · 5 months

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Day Nine- Zevlor

500 Follower Event, 30 Day Writing Prompts Prompt: Grass, Pallid, Brown Sugar, Zevlor (BG3) Pairing: Zevlor x Tav Tags: Smut, Fluff, Oral Sex, 2nd Person POV, Zevlor struggling with his faith, BG3 Spoilers, Act 2 Spoilers, Not super graphic Word Count: 636

Zevlor’s tail coils around your leg, wrapping tight enough to pull you close but not so tight that he’s restricted your movement. You’re tangled in each other’s limbs, cool blades of grass tickling your overheated skin. Zevlor’s motions had been awkward at first, his hands hesitant, ears down, and gaze averted. Until you patiently guided him, gently laying his hand to your bare chest, feeling heat bloom throughout his body at the contact, and smiling softly against him when he had taken the plunge and pressed his lips to yours. In the distance, you can hear your traveling companions bedding down for the night (perhaps by themselves, perhaps with another). After the hell that was Moonrise Towers and the Mind Flayer Colony, everyone is utterly exhausted. You and Zevlor snuck off long ago, concealed by the forest and the vast blanket of stars above. It feels like it’s been ages since you saw one another at the Grove. And he is more troubled than ever before.

Yet, despite his upset, his kisses are soft, deep. He drinks you in like you’re the first sip of water he’s had in ages. His calloused hands smooth along every angle, every curve of your body, worshipping as they explore. You feel venerated by his touch. His warmth spreads through you, flame licking your inner thighs as he buries himself between them. The delighted hum he makes when you grasp his horns for purchase sends shivers up and down your spine. His talons drag along the supple flesh of your thighs, rough but not so rough as to break skin. When you draw him up to hungrily press your lips against his, he tastes of you.

Gently, you lay him back against the grass, trailing kisses down the center of his chest, delighting in his constrained huffs and whispered adorations. He looks shocked when you return his loving murmurs with equal affection. If he could turn any more red, he would when you purr a simple, “That feels amazing,” at his touch. Praise after praise falls from your lips, simple prayers hushed in secrecy. The way your tongue grazes the shell of his ear, the way your teeth leave their hallowed marks on his skin- Zevlor feels that he does not deserve such grace. Such mercy. And yet, upon rescuing him from the colony, you were quick to throw your arms around the soldier and hold him close. At least there is one person grateful to see him.

Your ecstasy is muffled against his lips, his hushed when he buries his face in the crook of your neck. In the afterglow, you lay in Zevlor’s arms, fingernails dragging gently over the ridges on his arms. You talk of the future, what you each want from life, and imagine a quiet existence together. A house made of stone, either pallid as bleached bone or earthy red like clay, with smoke from a fire in the hearth floating wispy into the night air. The scent of brown sugar and butter pervades every inch of the kitchen, a kitchen you and Zevlor can slow dance in while putting off dinner. A home that he can return to after a day of teaching, retired from his soldiering days. He’s so good with children, you assure him that he’ll be their favorite instructor.

Zevlor can’t imagine this life for himself. He doesn’t deserve it, he posits to you, a notion that makes you frown.

“Of course you do,” you reassure with such conviction, Zevlor wonders if you’ve rattled the very stars above. He looks to you through the darkness, cupping your face in one hand and tenderly smoothing his thumb along your cheek. In your eyes, you hold a future he can only pray for. He hopes he has faith enough for it to come to fruition.

A/N: Please, Larian, just let me at least kiss himmmmmmm. I love Zevlor so much. Just one kiss, that's all (or, you know, more. That's cool too). This man needs rest. He needs a hug and a blanket and a smooch and some peace and quiet. I do want to write a longer version of this fic (that gets more detailed). I'll get around to that eventually. Maybe once I'm done with this event? Thank you so much for reading! Up next is our favorite sassy vampire, Astarion from Baldur's Gate 3!

#bg3 zevlor #zevlor x tav #zevlor #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 act 2 #my writing #spicy #500 follower event

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celestemagnoliathewriter · 6 months

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trick or treat! 🎃

ahhh one more trick or treater!

as you are my last trick or treater, I will be very generous and give you the equivalent of all the candy left in my bucket. here is the prologue - about 1000 words - of my upcoming Tedromeda/Remadora fic.

November, 1959

Rain poured heavily upon London, drowning the night-dwellers of the city with frigid droplets. Andromeda Black, a formerly proper, pureblood witch, was luckily not among the many souls freezing in the downpour, though she would be drenched soon.

Neither was Ted Tonks, the Muggleborn wizard who had given Andromeda a taste of freedom, but it was time to return to her cage. He could stay in his cozy, shabby world and give another woman a wonderful life, the kind of life Andromeda didn’t know she wanted until she tried it out for herself.

She was nestled in Ted’s bed, after having spent the last few hours doing some truly sinful things with him. When they were together like this, it was as if she was being worshiped; his lips would reverently skim across her sensitive flesh, her name became a prayer on his tongue, and his eyes were always in awe, beholding the feminine vision she was proud to reflect. No one had ever made her feel so beautiful, wanted, or adored.

This night would be the last time she’d feel him against her body; how she was going to explain it to him was eating away at her soul.

“’Dromeda,” Ted murmured, his breath tickling the back of her neck, “will you swing by tomorrow?”

It was as good an opening as Andromeda was going to get.

“No.”

“No?” Ted asked, the playful edge to his voice already breaking Andromeda’s heart. “Should I show you why, if you come see me, you won’t regret a minute of your time?”

Andromeda’s breath hitched. She couldn’t do this with his warm, naked body flush against hers, stroking her skin lovingly, pressing the softest kisses to her shoulder blade.

“Could we discuss this over tea, Ted?”

The temperature in the flat plummeted.

“Of—of course,” Ted stammered. He got out of bed and summoned his bathrobe, haphazardly wrapping it around his body. He shuffled out of the bedroom and began puttering about with his dented kettle.

Andromeda sat up and began redressing herself. She took her time, pausing every few seconds to let her gaze linger on a part of Ted’s room: his stack of unread medical journals, a pile of broken quills he insisted on fixing himself, his Muggle suit jacket, which made his broad shoulders look even more enticing, and several Freddo wrappers that hadn’t made their way into his rusty wastebasket.

It was a far cry from everything she’d grown up with, and everything that her future inevitably held. If Ted were like her, a house elf would’ve taken care of the rubbish at once. But he wasn’t like her—and he was all the better for it. She would have gladly mastered any household charm necessary to have a life with him.

The kettle whistled just as Andromeda finished tucking in the last strands of her hair in a neat chignon. She lifted the quilt on Ted’s bed to her nose and inhaled deeply, hoping she his scent would be branded into her memory. Determined to make it a clean break, she stepped into the tiny kitchen, where Ted was waiting with two steaming cups of tea.

“A pinch of sugar and a splash of milk,” he said, offering her a cup, with a smile on his face that didn’t meet his eyes.

“Thank you.”

Andromeda took a seat in one of his mismatched chairs and took a sip. It was divine, just as good as the posh loose leaf blends she grew up with, but at a fraction of the price, and given to her by a man who made her feel alive. The thick, pounding rain and howling gusts made the windows rattle.

“Darling, what is it?”

Ted’s gentle concern made Andromeda want to give in, to take the greatest risk of her life, but she couldn’t risk his life as well. Her father made it perfectly clear that if she continued her illicit affair, Ted would be nothing but a pile of bone fragments, to be stuck together and sold as a trinket at Borgin and Burke’s.

Pollux Black had the Minister of Magic in his pocket, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at his disposal, and Ted wouldn’t stand a chance.

“After tonight,” said Andromeda, feeling her chin quiver, “it’s over between us. I can’t see you anymore.”

“Pardon me?”

“Ted, please. You knew this couldn’t last.”

“But—”

“I’m getting married tomorrow.” Andromeda felt a tear fall down her cheek. “I can’t—I can’t run away from this.”

“Married?” Ted’s voice cracked. “To whom?”

“It doesn’t m-m-matter.” More tears streamed down her face. Her throat felt like it was swelling; she had to remain in control. Standing abruptly, she half-sobbed, “I’ve got to go.”

She didn’t wait for Ted to acknowledge her exit. She was out of her seat, thundering down the stairs, and walking out to the street below by the time she realized Ted was calling her name.

“ANDROMEDA BLACK! STOP!”

The icy rain soaked into every inch of Andromeda’s body. Her hair fell away, sticking to the sides of her face and neck, and she crossed her arms, aching for warmth.

“Don’t do this,” begged Ted, taking her face in his hands. “Please, ‘Dromeda, we can find a way.”

“We can’t!” Andromeda cried, letting him go. “I c-can’t see you anymore! Don’t you see? We could never be together! Never!”

“You—you said you loved me—”

“I didn’t—I don’t! ”

Ted’s face contorted into an expression Andromeda had seen only once before, the day he learned his father died.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, straining. “You don’t—”

“Goodbye, Tonks,” Andromeda said coldly. “I never want to see you again.”

The last image of Ted Tonks, the one that would haunt her for the next eleven years at least, was of him, with his shoulders hunched, his beautiful face twisted in agony, and her own reflection staring back at her, with nothing but hate in her heart.

#andromeda black #andromeda black tonks #ted tonks #not yet andromeda tonks #the angst is going to feel so good #harry potter fanfiction #asks #send asks #tedromeda

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thesleepy1 · 2 years

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Witcher's Hold

A/N: @writingmysanity wanted to see a fic where Eskel saves reader from torture. I’m going to try my hand at writing action because if I don’t practice, I won’t improve. Sorry that its a little on a short side. I’m not sure how graphic I will end but being so proceed at your own caution.

Pairings: Eskel x Reader

Summary: Eskel comes to your recuse after you’re taken by some very misguided individuals. You’re ready to forgive and forget as long as you can return to Eskel in one piece. Eskel has different ideas.

Word count: 657

Warnings: violence, injury, blood,

Eskel’s sword was weighed down as it sliced through a man’s throat. The man’s blood splattered across Eskel’s face but he did not stop to wipe it off. He stepped over the drowning mercenary and advanced on his partner. The woman was heavyset and strong, her muscles straining against her tunic. She fought close combat with brass around her knuckles.

She swung with her left fists which made contact with Eskel’s side and pushed him back. The witcher stumbled on his feet, the smell of iron and fear filling his nose. He knew it was not just his own. His very skin refused to yield to her without a fight. Her cry ripped through the air when she tore muscles in her hands, the brass snagged in her bones. She growled low and pounced onto Eskel in the dim room.

The warrior did not have the enhanced sense that Eskel did. She did not carry a weapon nor had the anger of having lost a loved one. Sidestepping at the last possible moment, Eskel ran his silver sword through her abdomen. The metal ripped through the viscera, his purposely dull edge dragging intestines outside of her skin. She had made to curse Eskel’s name but died before she hit the floor.

Eskel turned, spleen and liver speared through his sword. He made eye contact with the final individual who unlike the rest coward before him. “Please, witcher. I beg of you,” the pathetic man whined with his hands folded in prayer. “Spare me. I had no part to play in this. I-I was only tasked to feed your mate. That’s all. I did not lay a hand on them.” Eskel did not need to be listening to the man’s heartbeat to know he was lying through his teeth.

Eskel swung his sword in an overreaching arch and brought it down on the man’s worshiping head. He did not feel an ounce of regret or sin for his actions. One thing mattered to him and that was bringing you home.

“Darling,” Eskel called into the darkened dungeons. “Can you hear me, darling?” His heavy footsteps echoed louder through the stone hallways than the screams of the people he had killed. Every step seemed to be both a motion closer to you and further. “Please make some sort of sound. I can’t hear you.”

Eskel could hear nothing but the slow beat of his heart and the flicker of flames on the wall. Then, a single rustle of fabric drifted to his ear and everything after that was a blur. Eskel ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He pulled metal bars apart with his bare hands to get to you. The mere sight of you stole both his breath away. You had laid in the center of a bare cell in nothing but smocks, thin as the very bars Eskel snapped in two.

The large witcher spoke your name in a whisper. He bent down to gather you within his arms. You were lighter pressed to his chest than Lil’ Bleater. The fact made a sob form at the base of his throat. Eskel cried and he cried hard. “I'm so sorry I allowed this to happen. Forgive, oh please forgive me.”

“I’ll never let you out of my sight again,” he cried into the top of your head. Your skin was cold to the touch. Not even his witcher’s heat did much to warm you.

“Eskel?”

“Yes, darling?” Eskel drew a sign you could not make out in the air. An explosion made your sensitive ears ring. Debris flew back towards you but Eskel quickly threw up another sign before anything could dare touch your skin. “What do you need? Anything you want, you only need to ask.”

“It’s so cold,” you shivered until your body tensed so much you felt paralyzed, “Could you please hold me?”

“I swear I will never let go again.”

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silver-tongued-bby · 3 years

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Devotion - Part I

Pairing: Dark!Loki x Nun!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!! This is a Dark!Loki fic and it explores sexual and dark religious (catholic) themes, including mind control (paralysis), loss of faith, oral sex (m and f receiving), loss of virginity, knife play, blood play, dirty talk, a dom/sub relationship, and general blasphemy. Read at your own risk!!

Words: 3,668

Summary: You chose to devout yourself to God. But did you choose the right one?

A/N: If there is a hell, I think I'll be going straight to it for this one. Please remember this is a work of fiction- if you take issue with the themes mentioned above, please do not interact.

...

It was late when you finished your prayers- much later than usual. You’d stayed by the chancel, kneeling on the soft velvet of the hassock well beyond the sunset, your Sisters excusing themselves one by one. The votive candles were mostly out by the time you stood on shaky legs, the feeling slowly coming back to them as you extinguished the remaining flames.

You sighed, hoping that the twelve hours of prayer today would be enough to rid yourself of the dream. Walking behind the altar, you turned off the lights. Things were still somewhat illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight coming through the stained glass.

Moving back around the altar towards the nave you stopped, seeing the outline of a figure before you, your heartbeat in your ears as you held a palm to your chest. You tilted your head, blinking furiously in the darkness, attempting to make sense of the form. It looked like a person- a man, standing by the open doors. Must be a trick of the light, you thought as you squinted in an attempt to make out the tall shadow.

Sighing, you gingerly stepped down the altar’s carpeted stairs to slowly approach the form, keeping your eyes on it. Suddenly, you stopped, the hairs standing on end at the back of your neck. This was how the dream started. A figure- a dark figure is what you’d see before it would float towards you, wrapping you up in its darkness and consuming you whole. You’d wake gasping for air, your eyes wet with tears.

You took a deep breath, chastising yourself for your foolishness. You were awake, and the dark mass in front of you was likely a shadow from outside, or the coat rack, or the monstrance- Sister Anne always left the monstrance out after she buffed it.

Shaking your head, you stepped down onto the cold stone floor. Then you thought you saw the figure move. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears as you stopped once more, trying to make out the shapes in the shadow. You attempted to calm yourself down- you were awake, this wasn’t a dream. Besides, in the dream you always heard that laugh- the dark, velvety laugh ringing out in the silence. There was no laugh now.

You pinched yourself for good measure, nodding when you felt the pain, ensuring that this was not a dream. Huffing, you decided to speed-walk down the nave, your steps ringing out as you approached the shadow.

You were about four paces away when you finally saw the glint of two eyes in the moonlight. You gasped and scrambled backwards, the figure before you now clear.

“At last.” A voice- the voice from your dream. It was deep, dark velvet ringing out through the silence. A sliver of moonlight was hitting two green eyes, illuminating pale skin and a dark brow. You could see the inky, black hair that fell around his face in waves.

You were stunned, and wanted so desperately to turn and run but you couldn’t bring your body to move. You opened your mouth to scream but no sound came out, just like the dream. You began reciting The Apostles Creed in your mind, attempting to calm yourself and awake from whatever this was.

The familiar deep chuckle hit your ears. “Your prayer falls on deaf ears, little one. As they always have.” He stepped closer, then slowly circled your paralysed form.

Undeterred, you kept praying, shouting each word within your mind at the presence before you.

A hand came to grip your face firmly, long fingers digging into your delicate skin. “No more of that, little one.” With that, your thoughts were silenced. Held in place like the rest of you.

Your breath was loud against the silence, shaky puffs coming in and out as the entity observed you. You were struck by the beauty of this presence, his chiseled face more breathtaking than the paintings of Christ. He stood tall, before you, lithe figure covered in a crisp black suit.

“Your god has long since abandoned you. All of you, worshipping an entity who simply flicked the switch to humanity, who left once the beginnings had been set in motion.” He let his hand fall from your face and circled you once more.

“Yet you continue to pray, to worship, to adore him. And this Jesus Christ you vow yourself to,” he laughed pitifully, “a mortal. Long gone.”

“So much work, so much devotion, to an absent god. A god who cannot solve your problems, empower you, or answer your prayers.” He stopped in front of you and reached to pull at the veil covering your head, letting it drop to the floor. Tears were welling up in your eyes, obscuring your vision.

“Beautiful,” he breathed against your ear, “what god would ask for such beauty to be hidden away, like a dirty, little secret? What god would tell their most devout followers to vow themselves to never be touched,” he lightly traced your cheekbone with his knuckle, “be pleasured by another?”

His eyes searched yours for a moment, and you felt the hold on you release. “You may answer,” he watched you as you blinked and shivered, a tear falling down either of your heated cheeks.

“You can’t know that- that He isn’t with us,” you frowned at him, your voice small.

He gave you a pitying look, his head tilting slightly. “Oh but I do, little one. And so do you.” He clasped his hands behind his back, regarding you darkly. “You prayed to your god for twelve hours this day, ten hours each day before. I heard you. I watched you.”

Your eyes widened. How could he have known? How long has he been watching you?

“A long time, little one. I heard you praying to your god to take away the dream I sent you. The dream foretelling you of my arrival.” He circled you again, leaning in to speak close- so close to your ear. You shivered. He could read your thoughts.

His mouth quirked upwards in acknowledgement before he continued. “If your god is with you, why did he not answer your prayers and protect you from me?”

“I- He must be testing me,” you said, the tears still falling.

“If your god is here with us, why is he not striking me down for standing on his ground? Speaking such blasphemy, in his own house?”

“I- I don’t know,” you said, a quiet sob shaking you. You felt alone, scared, and lost. If He was not with you, how could you carry on devoting yourself to Him? Was any of this His will? Or were all the rituals, the sacraments, fabricated by man?

You’d been having doubts for a while- since the dreams started. Instead of opening up to your sisters about it you held your tongue. Saying it out loud would have made it all so real. As it is now.

“Hush now, little one. Tears won’t do a thing.” He touched under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

You felt defeated and betrayed by the cause you’d so devoted yourself to. Pointless. What were you to do now? Without your faith you had nothing, no one.

“You started down the wrong path.” His eyes were locked with yours, a glint of something beneath the blue-green. “I can help you correct it. Worship me, and I’ll hear your prayers. Devote yourself to me, and I’ll answer them. Adore me,” he brushed his finger tips across your lips, “and I’ll empower you.”

You felt a thrill with his words, his actions, and his darkening stare. “What must I do?” You asked, your heart racing.

“Get on your knees.”

You knelt in front of him, bowing your head to his towering form, your hands clasped together in your lap.

“Eyes on me. Always.” He said, and you brought your face up to meet his stare. Before you were fully aware of what was happening he’d taken himself out, his hardened member before you.

Your eyes widened at it- you’d never seen a phallus up close in person. The vow you took promised yourself to your lord. You weren’t even supposed to touch a man, and had stuck to that for the majority of your life. You were nervous, unsure of what to do, how to please this dark entity before you. You also realised you’d never even asked him his name.

He chuckled darkly. “I am known to many as Loki, but you may call me Master. Now, bring yourself closer to me.” You leant forward. “Good. Open your mouth, little one.”

You did as you were told and he laid his thick member over your tongue, the taste of his skin salty, his heady scent enveloping you.

“Use your lips and tongue to worship me. Show me your devotion,” he angled his hips forward so more of his length filled your mouth.

You kept your eyes on his as you started to run your tongue along him, pursing your lips slightly. You took him deeper until he hit the back of your throat, which made you gag, tears springing to your eyes.

“Relax, little one. Breathe through your nose,” you did as you were told, consciously relaxing the muscle at the back of your throat. You found you could take him further, more of him pressing into you as your saliva dribbled around your lips.

“Good,” his voice sounded deeper, a small edge to it. He grasped your head, his nails lightly scraping against your scalp, bringing a little hum from you at the sensation. He twitched at that, and you took note, humming and groaning around him as he began to move you back and forth over his length.

His lips were apart as he moved you over him, his eyes running over your features. The lustful approval of his gaze made your heart flutter, and your core ache. You were so pleased to serve him, to have a God you could so tangibly show your devotion to. You wanted him to use you, use your body and soul for his pleasure.

He grunted, teeth clenched as his grip against your scalp became harsher. His hips stuttered and he groaned, his warm essence spilling into your mouth and down your throat. You were filled with pride to receive his seed, eagerly swallowing and revelling in the taste. You cleaned him off, his length remaining hard as he watched you work below him.

“Very good, little one.” He removed his hands from your scalp, gently brushing the hollows of your cheeks as you continued to suck his length. “What do you say after such a gift?” He asked.

You let him fall from your mouth, licking your lips. “Thank you, Master.” You said breathlessly.

He nodded at you in approval then motioned you to stand from the cool stone floors. You stood on shaky legs and he held up one hand, palm upwards. You tentatively put your hand in his and he gripped it lightly as he guided you towards the altar.

Once up the steps, he turned to you and in a flash of green he held a dagger. He hooked the blade into your tunic, tearing the fabric as he brought it downwards. The linen opened to expose the virginal white of your underwear. He pushed the cloth off your shoulders, letting the tunic fall to the ground. He did the same with your underwear, tearing the soft white fabric of your bra and panties to shreds, leaving you naked before the altar. He flipped the knife in his hand, catching it before disappearing it in another flash of green.

“Present yourself to me,” his eyes were busy running over your exposed skin.

“Yes Master,” you said, moving up against the altar before settling upon it and spreading your legs, exposing yourself to the cool air. You laid back, looking up at him from heavy-lidded eyes. Remembering all the times you’d prayed staring up at this altar made you ache for your new Master, needing him to feel your worship.

“So wet and needy for me,” he brushed a knuckle over your heat, forcing a shudder from you. “Though since it’s your first time, I will ready your body to take me.”

“Thank you Master,” you said again, resting on your elbow so you could maintain his gaze.

He smirked at you and bent a knee to bring his face closer to your heat. Your muscles twitched in anticipation as he lowered his gaze to your wet heat, his hands sliding up from your calves to your thighs, stopping so they could grip your tightly.

“Have you ever been touched here by another, little one? Kissed?” He asked, his breath ghosting over your heat.

You swallowed, shaking your head. “No, Master. N-never.”

“So pure,” his eyes ran over you before capturing your gaze once more. “Have you ever touched yourself here?”

You cast your eyes downwards, “yes, Master.” You whispered, feeling shame bubble within you, your face hot.

His hands tightened around your thighs. “Look at me,” he commanded, and you quickly met his gaze. “Never feel ashamed for taking your pleasure. Worship me through it. Give into your pleasure, give into me.” He licked a slow stripe up your folds, and you cried out, your back arching against the hard wood of the altar.

From the angle of your gaze you could see the crucifix, inverted at your position. Blinking your eyes up at the sculpture of Christ, you felt your Master’s tongue swirl over your bundle of nerves and you moaned, still gazing up at the crucifix, as if you were expecting it to come to life.

You heard a low chuckle. “I told you. He’s long gone, little one.” Your brow furrowed- you still felt your Master’s tongue over your centre, hot and wet. How could you hear him?

“Look at me,” you heard his voice once more and pulled yourself up on your elbows to meet his icy gaze as he dipped a finger within you, causing you to shudder. “Do not question. Surrender,” he curled the finger on a spot that had you seeing stars, “surrender to me.”

You nodded, licking your dry lips as you panted. You were close. His hand was pressing hard into your thigh, while the other was quickly moving in and out of you, his tongue moving in tandem. “Let me feel your euphoria, little one. Let me drink it from your very soul.”

It was all so much, the feel of his fingers within you, the flick of his tongue against your most sensitive part. You were lightly moaning, the sound of your voice and his ministrations echoing off the stone of the church. His eyes were cold steel, demanding your gaze as he steadily stoked the fire within you, the flames licking at your skin.

“Oh! Oh my…” you trailed off, “God.” He finished darkly, and you came undone, writhing against the altar. As you rode out the waves of your high you whispered, “thank you Master,” over and over in prayer, your eyes slipping to those of blue-green below.

“Very good, little one. You’re ready to take me now. To feel me deep within you.” He pulled his fingers from you and stood, eyes roaming over your naked form. He ran one finger, wet with your excitement down from the hollow of your throat to the soft tufts of hair between your legs and you shivered, the cool air kissing the trail he’d left.

Smirking down at you he gripped himself, coming closer to run the head of his length up against your dripping core. You inhaled sharply, your hand gripping the wood of the altar below.

“You were built for worship. Body and soul,” he spoke, his voice rough. He slowly pushed in an inch, your channel tight around him. You squirmed, feeling a sharp pain as he continued to push in.

“Relax. Deep breath, little one.” You did as you were told, filling your lungs with air and he slid the rest of the way in on your exhale. The pain turned sharper still, and you whined, your breaths quick and pained.

“That’s it. Don’t cry,” he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “It will feel better soon. But I need you to feel the pain. I need you to feel me stretch you, to feel me break you.” His eyes went to the skin where your bodies met, where he was stretching you, holding still while you desperately tried to relax your muscles, your nails digging into the wood of the altar.

He brought his hand down, swiping around your folds. Bringing his fingers before you, you could see they were wet with slick and bright red with your blood. He brought his fingers to your lips and swiped them over your tender skin. He bent to kiss you, his tongue running along your lips. He hummed at the taste before kissing you deeply, the metallic-tinged taste lingering in your mouth.

He started to move his hips, pulling back out of you before coming forward. Your back arched, the pain mingling with some deep sort of pleasure as he began setting a pace. He moved to whisper foreign words over the shell of your ear.

You felt a warmth wash over you, the pain slipping away with it, leaving the pleasure. He came away from you, standing back up to his full height as he looked at you, his head tilted. “Does that feel better, little one?”

“Yes, Master,” you moaned, your hips moving in time with his thrusts. His hands gripped either side of your waist, long fingers pressing into the skin as he continued to move with you.

“That’s it little one, worship me as I fuck you. Worship me as I taint you.” He continued to thrust into you, the stained glass windows of the church framing his dark figure. He gave a little flick with his fingers in the air and you felt a pressure on you- similar to finger tips, gently rubbing at your clitoris. You cried out, and he bent forward to clasp his fingers over your wrists, pulling them upwards to hold them firmly on the altar over your head as he continued to thrust within you.

You were writhing against him, the soft, woven material of his suit rubbing up against your sensitive skin, the phantom touch still continuing below. He was grinning at you, the glint in his eyes that of pure sin as he watched you lose control. You came fully undone beneath him, giving in to the pleasure he was wringing from your body, every nerve alit with it. Your vision blurred slightly but you kept your eyes open, his smirk taunting you as you came thanking him at the top of your lungs.

The touch below had continued as you rode out your orgasm, coming back in full force once your breath settled. He moved to grip your wrists with one hand, the other coming to firmly grasp your jaw, pushing your face to the side. You felt his tongue against the shell of your ear and you cried out at the sensation. He chuckled lowly before taking your earlobe between his teeth, marring the flesh then running his tongue over the heated skin. Your breaths were quick puffs, your chest rising against his as he continued to nip, bite and lick at your skin.

“You will cum once more, little one. Cum for your Master and I will reward you,” he nipped at your earlobe once more, “I’ll fill you little one. Would you like that?” His voice was divine, the dark tone of it bending you to his every will.

“Y-yes please, Master, please fill me,” you stuttered, your hips arching towards his thrusts, angling you slightly off the altar.

He chuckled once more, “good. Now, little one,” he licked the skin beneath your earlobe, “cum now.” With that he bit you- you could feel his teeth break the skin of your neck as you moaned, the pain mingling with the pleasure sharply bringing your release. The pleasure electrified you, you couldn’t keep your body still as it fully overtook your every sense, clouding your vision.

As if it were far away you heard your Master moan. His muscles tensed against you, and you felt him twitch within you. As your breath returned he pulled out of you, stepping backwards to admire your form.

He smirked and brought two fingers to your dripping hole, swirling them in the wet there. Removing them, he traced a line down your chest in the slick, forcing a shudder from you.

He connected the vertical line with one horizontal, painting a cross over your breasts. You flinched when his fingers skimmed across your nipples, your body still overstimulated.

“Perfect,” he breathed, his hand moving to close his trousers.

His eyes falling back to you, he held a hand out towards you. You took it and he guided you to stand, the cum dripping down the insides of your thigh.

He snapped his fingers and suddenly you were clothed in a tight fitting tunic, the neckline low and the colour a rich emerald green. A golden pendant hung between your breasts, a small, detailed snake on the end with emeralds for eyes. You could still feel the cold wet slick on your chest and between your legs- he hadn’t given you any underwear. “That will do,” he nodded, “very fitting of a high priestess.”

He swiftly turned on his heel, heading down the steps and down the nave. Your heart beat loud and fast in your ears as you watched him walk away, unsure if he wanted you to follow. Stopping at the final pew he turned, long fingers of one hand beckoning you.

“Come along. You have work to do, little one.”

Part II here.

End Notes: There will be a part 2! Keep your eyes peeled- let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list.

I apologise if I got some aspects of the church wrong- I spent some time researching but I am in no way an expert.

Want to read more Loki fics of mine? My masterlist is here.

And as always, thank you for reading!

#dark!loki x you #dark!loki x reader #dark!loki x you smut #dark!loki x reader smut #dom!loki x you #dom!loki x reader #dom!loki x you smut #dark!loki x nun!reader #bd/sm fic #dom!loki x sub!reader #loki smut #loki fic #bd/sm smut

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crimsonophelia · 3 years

Note

hii can i ask for making out hcs with zhongli 💥

featuring: zhongli x gn!reader

warnings: suggestive content

published: june 18, 2021

form: headcanons

a/n: HELLO ANON THIS IS A FANTASTIC REQUEST bless your soul for sending this in. i will forever be delighted to produce any zhongli content.

making out with mr. zhongli is a whole occasion

he’s not the most outwardly affectionate man—he tends to be more reserved with his thoughts about other people and rarely vocalizes his impressions.

however, with you, zhongli is like an entirely different man.

occasionally when tensions grow high between the two of you—perhaps you wore something particularly revealing or zhongli was getting a kick out of subtly teasing you that day—you often find yourself strewn over top of him on the bed, or even the sofa, if you two are feeling particularly desperate.

being intimate with zhongli is like a constant push and pull. one of you gives and the other receives enthusaistically, and eventually the other gives with zeal whilst the recipient submits with delight. despite him being the geo archon, he never exerted his power over you, and preferred to be equals, intertwined in one another.

when making out with zhongli, you love to rest your hands on either side of his head, occasionally tugging at his soft locks, pulling an eager whine from him. the way he’s framed under you, face flushed and eyes half-lidded with budding lust makes you think such dirty and shameful thoughts about the gentleman beneath you.

as for zhongli, he treats you like absolute royalty. he is so patient, never initiating something until he reads that you are entirely comfortable to proceed. this often means that the first kiss in a series of many begins with a longing, heated look into your eyes, and a softly uttered “may i kiss you, my love?”, and gently closed eyes and flushed lips upon your own.

he loves you so much and it shows. there is never any rush with zhongli—the way his hands travel down the sides of your body, as if mapping out each one of your curves like its the first time, gently like youre made of the finest china. if you get lost in your thoughts whilst zhongli’s lips move rhythmically against your own, you’d think that he was a noble prince of old, kissing his beloved for the very first time, self-assured yet completely overwhelmed, and you were breaking your chastity to feel a prince’s delicate touch against you.

zhongli’s lips are always tender, and his tongue is courteous. he always waits for your signal, a gentle nip at his bottom lip, before he tries to traverse deeper into your mouth with his tongue. but its always worth it. a slow dance, it was, you and zhongli, bodies and mouths fitting perfectly against one another, like yin and yang. there was always something about even the most heated, lustful moments with him that made you feel like a deity being worshipped, hands of prayer caressing all your edges and corners.

sometimes making out with zhongli is satisfying enough. other times, you both feel the desire to go further. that’s when the roaming hands find their way to buttons and clasps, undoing each other’s robes with no hurry, making sure to feel out each inch of newly exposed skin. zhongli kisses you further, down your neck, suckling and licking at protruding tendons, planting kisses along your collarbones. his hands adorn your chest, where he could be closest to your rapidly beating heart.

it was ecstasy. a heady, even supernatural feeling, becoming one with a god. he was so beautiful that intimacy oftentimes ended with overwhelmed tears prickling the corners of your eyes, desperate to get even closer to the chiseled, inhmuanly perfect being pressed skin-to-skin against you. your sighs mingled with his rumbling groans, as the night grows deeper and you two press closer.

a/n: soft, beautiful zhongli for tonight. i didn’t write any further because it definitely would have strayed into nsfw territory haha. hope you enjoyed!

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin x reader #zhongli fanfiction #zhongli imagines #zhongli headcanons #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x reader #zhongli thirst #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli smut

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

Let Me Show You - Bucky Barnes x F! Reader (smut)

Gif by @buckysbarnes

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for a few months now, and the man has given you everything - literally. One night, Bucky encourages you to let go of your anxiety and let him show you just how sinful that mouth of his can truly be.

Warnings: 18+!!! Brief mention of drinking, Swearing, smut!!: Oral - f receiving, fingering, praise kink, arm kink, (Bucky kink?), unprotected PinV sex, fluff, encouragement

Word Count: 4k+ - I got carried away.

A/N: Aaahhhh, my first ever request from @kaylee-krystal I hope I did your idea justice and this is what you were hoping for. I added my own ideas for backstory and such, so I hope it’s okay 🙊thank you again, so, so much for requesting!!! I have reread this a couple times, but I’ve no doubt missed something somewhere, so apologies in advance.

Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood

James Buchanan Barnes.

Now there was a topic you could talk about day and night.

And probably even in your sleep.

You’d been dating for a few months now, and everyday was better than the last, even it did sound cliché.

You’d met in a local Brooklyn bar, having frequented it now and then with your friends for relaxed nights out or after work drinks.

The first time you’d seen the soldier, he’d been sitting at the bar alone, brooding over a beer.

It had taken you a few moments, but you’d suddenly realised who it was.

Bucky Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier, Avenger and now often seen with Sam Wilson.

THE Bucky Barnes was sitting in your local.

And instantly he had taken your breath away.

A set of cheekbones that could cut glass with a jawline to match. Plush lips that looked irresistibly soft - and sinful.

A tangle of dark hair that was begging to have a pair of hands run through to mess it up.

You could see the broad line of his shoulders from where you were situated in the booth, and you went home that night imagining everything else about him.

The next time you saw him, it was about a week later. You were waiting for your friend to arrive and had gone up the bar to get drinks ordered.

And there he was, just like the last time.

Only now, you saw that he had a pair of gorgeous eyes, a blue like the Arctic Ocean and just as deep.

And they were settled on your face with a cheeky little smile, which only grew when you looked at him.

Moments later, you were seated next to him, lost in conversation about whether the Hobbit was better than Lord of the Rings.

After laughing at one of his jokes, he’d asked you out on a date, instantly enamoured with the way your eyes lit up like the Brooklyn Bridge and you radiated goodness.

And the rest was history.

One date fell into two, and then three, and then just like that... you were dating.

Boyfriend and girlfriend.

Picnics in Prospect Park and afternoons at the Smithsonian.

Nights watching all the movies and tv shows he still needed to catch up on and mornings where you joined him on a run.

It was beautiful. Sure, you had a few tense moments where you might disagree, or he might have a bad day where memories crept up and he lashed out, but you never backed down. Never ran from him or looked the other way. And he did the same for you. Holding you when you needed him to but firmly expressing himself if you ever went too far.

It was healthy, enriching and you had both grown so much in just a few months.

Especially in the intimacy department.

You weren’t lacking knowledge or experience, not by any means but it was just... some things you were a little uncomfortable with.

It wasn’t that you had bad memories of the past or had been hurt, it was more a personal thing.

And you had explained some of these hang-ups to Bucky, who’d taken them all in his stride and been amazing about it.

When you were in these moments, he would ask if you wanted to try something and if you said no, he respected it and moved on. And if you said yes... well. Then you got a lesson in just how good he could make you feel.

Bucky had learnt your body in no time at all and... He was mindblowingly good. He knew exactly how to make you cry out his name like a plea, a prayer and a sin all in one.

It had gotten to the point where you’d drift off in the day, your mind taking you back to the way his lips mouthed over your skin, the way his fingers arched and curled inside your walls just right to reach that spot that hard you arching from the bed all the whole those baby blues were locked onto yours, watching you fall apart with an adoring fire blazing in the blue depths.

The man only had to give you that killer smile and you’d be instantly soaked.

He was going to be the death of you one day.

“Bucky!”

The sound of his name bounced around the walls of your bedroom, high and keening as the fingers of his vibranium hand stroked your inner walls with a relentless rhythm and pleasure.

“C’mon baby, that’s it..” he mumbled the sweet nothings against your chest, his mouth pressing kisses across your hot skin, over your collarbones and breasts.

His hair tickled your neck as your tipped your head back, eyes squeezed shut and mouth parted in pleasure.

He was working you to your second orgasm of the night already.

The man had practically pounced on you when you walked through the door of your shared apartment and you were only too willing to drop everything - underwear included - and lose a few hours.

Your hips jerked against his hand, bucking in time with his fingers. The heel of his hand was pressed to your clit, applying delicious pressure with each pass of your hips as you chased down your release, feeling it coil tighter and tighter in the base of your spine.

You slid a hand up into his hair, knotting your fingers in the silky chocolate locks “Fuck-“

God, you were so close, so, so close-

Bucky already knew, and he scissored his fingers inside you, sucking at your nipple and triggering your orgasm, gently pushing you over that edge.

Pleasure tore through your body, making your blood sing and his name bounce through the room again. Every single orgasm he gave you made your body catch fire, and you felt it from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. Through the haze, you heard his lust roughened voice, cooing those praises that only succeeded in making you come harder, “Good girl. Look at you... you look like a goddess. A fucking goddess that deserves to be worshiped every single day.” His hot breath fanned over your skin, “Make me want to do this all the time, give you everything, baby.”

He kept moving his fingers inside you, the noise filthy and almost forbidden as your slick coated his vibranium fingers. He moved and moved until you pushed lightly at his hand, the sensation almost too much.

Bucky met your eyes when they opened, and he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking at them and he moaned low at your taste, a wicked grin spreading around them when you groaned. “I’ll never get tired of this.”

Of your taste.

You let out a soft huff of a laugh, feeling your body hum still as you beheld the sight of your boyfriend sucking your juices off his fingers, all dark eyes and ruffled hair. “You will be the death of me one day, you know that right?”

His chuckle was husky and he kissed your neck gently, “Oh, I know. But you will too, so the feeling is definitely mutual, doll.”

His lips brushed over your belly button and a ripple of apprehension tickled down your spine and you struggled a little to focus on his words. “Every day since, you just blow me away. Everything you do. The way you’re so determined, the drive you have.” His kissed above your hip bone, tracing his tongue over the skin and he drew a little heart with his saliva, “You make me want to be a better person. You make me feel brave enough to make amends, to let go of my past and accept it.” His words were so heartfelt, so meaningful that they threatened to bring tears to your eyes.

But then his lips brushed lower, and you knew where this was going.

He had tried before, a couple of times now in the last few months and each time you’d stopped him.

And each time, he did so without hesitation and just moved on.

Your eyes snapped open, spine locking up, “Bucky.”

Instantly, he stopped. His head lifted as he heard the hesitancy in your voice, the apprehension, “What is it, baby? Are you okay?” His lust-blown eyes were wide, a frown between them as he looked over your face for the cause of you stopping him. He realised what he did and his face softened, “Shit, baby... I’m so sorry.” He pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh.

Your heart was pounding through your chest and you were convinced he could hear it. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not you... I just... um..”

Oh, you wished the ground would swallow you up.

Bucky’s warm, broad hand rubbed soothingly over your thigh and he felt the tremble in your body, “Hey... relax. It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me... .”

You swallowed, shame tinting your cheeks and you stared at the ceiling light, too afraid to look at him. But he had shared so much with you... and you wanted to share this with him, “No one... no one has ever...” a cringe took over your features, “Gone down on me before.”

Silence.

Oh, god.

Your voice came out quiet, hesitant, “Bucky...?” Gathering your courage, you peered down at him.

He was staring at you, that frown still between his eyes as he looked over your face. He had his suspicions as to why you didn’t like it, but he was never sure. “Is it because... Have people refused to? Because if they have, they were not worth your time. You are beautiful, completely and utterly beautiful and deserve to have someone worship you like that.” there was a tone to his voice, like he would go and tear into anyone who refused to give you such pleasure.

Oh.

Shaking your head quickly, you sat up on your elbows, “No! No, it’s not that. They’ve asked to it’s just... me.”

It was true.

You had partners who asked to go down on you all the time but... something in you just couldn’t. You weren’t sure entirely why.

Whether it was the idea that someone would be so close... there.

What if you weren’t... pretty enough?

What if you didn’t taste good?

What if.... you did something wrong?

It had always been a bit of a hang-up, and even when your friends described how unbelievable good it felt... you just couldn’t do it.

Bucky’s eyes danced between your own, as if he could read all of this in your expression. He let go of your thigh, crawling up your body and he slide a hand around your jaw, his fingers resting behind your ear, “Baby... you have nothing to worry about. You are absolutely gorgeous, so, so beautiful. Every single thing you do, it blows my mind.” He stroke his thumb over your cheek, “You can walk to me in sweatpants and my hoodie and I’m struck dumb.”

You laughed a little despite yourself and he copied you, eyes lighting up when you did, “Having someone go down on you... it’s like the ultimate act of worshiping. You are in control. You tell me when to stop, pull me closer or push me away... On my knees for you, tasting you and taking you to that edge.” He cocked his head, “It’ll feel a little odd at first but when you’re used to it... Oh, doll, it’ll feel so good.”

His words filtered around you, moving through you.

You knew he was good at his craft, at reading your body. And you also knew he would never make you feel uncomfortable and he would always stop if you asked him to.

And god, there was a part of you that so desperately wanted to feel it, to feel someone’s tongue between your folds, moving inside you, between your thighs...

An image came to you, his dark locks nestled between your thighs, rumbling moans vibrating against you as you arched above him...

“Okay.”

He blinked, perhaps not having expected you to accept so quickly., “Are you sure? If you’re not-“

You swallows, lifting your hand to his on your cheek, “I... I want to. Show me. Show me how good it feels.”

Bucky looked deep into your eyes, checking for himself and when he seemed satisfied, he nodded gently. “Okay... Okay. If you feel uncomfortable, if it hurts or it’s too much, please tell me to stop. Use the safeword, hit the top of my head, kick me, anything. Okay?”

God, he just cared so much didn’t he.

Heart melting, you nodded again, a smile mixed of anticipation and a little bit of nervousness on your lips, “Okay. I promise.”

Sndjcidks djcocks djckc

The approach of your impending third orgasm was almost painful, the heat in your belly tightening impossibly, every single muscle in your body locking up and screaming for release.

Bucky was there, already reading it in your body and his free arm lifted from across your waist, reaching up and sliding through yours.

You tightened your fingers around his cool metal ones, your hips now free.

An instinct came over you, and you began to rock your hips against his face-

Heat and shame flushed your cheeks and you opened your mouth to apologise, to try and stop your hips from moving -

But then Bucky let out a rough moan that reverberated through your walls, through your clit and you realised - he liked it. He liked you fucking yourself on his tongue, smearing your slick over his chin and lips.

Holy fucking god.

You wanted this, you wanted this all the time, him all other time.

Bucky rubbed harder at your clit, running tight circles and his tongued slide over your folds and then speared inside you, like white hot fire. The tip of his tongue stroked that spot, that spot that he seemed to have a direct route to and then - you were falling apart.

Your orgasm barrelled down into you relentlessly, searing through your body and turning you to light and stars and something entirely ethereal.

It felt like every cell in your body exploded, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you that just didn’t end.

Bucky took it all, took every ride of your hips, every clench of your thighs around his head and he worked you through it, tongue lapping up your juices like a man starved as you came apart above him.

He didn’t let you go, holding you steady in the whirlpool of pure sensation as you ever so slowly came down back to Earth.

You panted softly, your eyes slowly opening to the familiar ceiling of your bedroom.

Fucking hell.

Fucking. Hell.

A stunned laugh escaped your lips and you unclenched your fingers from Bucky’s hair, rubbing over your face.

He pressed soft kisses to your thighs, trailing up your body and then lightly pressing his lips to yours.

You could taste yourself on him, and it was intimate and a little filthy and god - you loved it. You loved him.

Kissing him back with equal fervour, you couldn’t stop grinning.

Bucky matched your wide smile, his body held up over yours and he brushed back your damp hair, “How do you feel?” Always looking out for you. He pulled away gently from your lips, trailing his mouth over your jaw.

You chuckled again, breathlessly, “I feel... amazing. Like my body is singing.” You shook your head just slightly in awe, “I don’t know how I’ve gone so long without that. You’re fucking good...”

You felt his shit-eating grin against your jaw, his teeth lightly nip your skin, “See... I told you. You deserve to be worshipped, baby. And I plan on doing it again and again, on my knees, under you, over you... like the goddess you are.” He brushed his lips over the shell of your ear, his voice a rough, husky whisper, “And I plan to carry on right now.”

The rest of the night fell away as he slipped back inside you effortlessly, and you climbed to the sky together again and again, and all you could think was... This was it.

You’d only been with him for a few months but in that time he had shown you more than anyone ever had. He had lovingly and carefully peeled back your layers and revealed such a shining light beneath, the light that had always been there and he had seen since that first meeting.

You wanted this forever, all the time. His love, his trust...

And his lips and tongue.

#my first ever request 🥺#oh god I hope this is okay #*nervously waits*#you just know I had to put the vibranium arm in there #look we all have an arm kink and that’s okay #we are nurturing not shaming #Bucky barnes smut #Bucky barnes x reader #Bucky barnes x reader smut #Sebastian stan x reader

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fandom-collective-writers · 3 years

Text

Flames of Jealousy (Diluc Ragnvindr x MC)

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Diluc Ragnvindr x MC(F)

Warnings: NSFW, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Penetration, Orgasm Denial

Written by: @voltage-vixen Prompt: Jealous Sex

Notes: The MC featured in this story is a former traveler that is of age.

“Diluc, is everything alright? You’re not acting like yourself.”

Ignoring MC’s expressed concern, Diluc snaked his fingers tighter around her own, and proceeded to storm through the village at an increasing pace as he dragged her along for the ride.

They had attended (unwilling on Diluc’s behalf) a gathering hosted by none other than the Knights of Favonius. Often one to avoid these types of shindigs where civilities were long forgone as the liquor poured throughout the eve, Diluc had exhausted all options of excuses for not attending when the former traveler he was presently dragging away had insisted upon making an appearance. The woman who had chosen to remain in Mondstadt in the stead of pursuing the journey her brother ventured on with after reuniting with one another; she had chosen to reside stationary in the great nation of freedom to remain by his side. The least he could offer up was to stand by her side as the proud partner of the honorary knight.

That was until that bastard entered the scene. More specifically, that cryo bastard. Kaeya naturally was the object of the affection of many suitors; in which made Diluc question why the Captain of the Calvary had chosen to stand so closely next to his suitor. The two were exchanging what seemed to be innocent enough pleasantries-but it wasn’t until Kaeya flashed that panty dropping smirk in MC’s direction did Diluc find himself storming across the foyer.

“Pardon. Allow me to extend my deepest apologies, but I’m afraid we must be taking our leave now. An urgent matter has come up at the guild,” Diluc explained to the nearby guests loitering in the grand hall. Latching onto her wrist, Diluc yanked MC towards the large doors to make an exit without allowing any sort of refutes. MC blinked in confusion at Kaeya’s perceptive wink, and waved a swift goodbye to Lisa and Amber before being dragged fully out of the castle.

Damn, him. Damn, him all to hell! Who the hell does he think he is putting his hands on my woman?!

Furious thoughts of jealousy raged throughout Diluc’s mind, swirling around like the fury of a violent storm. Wanting to wipe Kaeya from his mind, the animosity shifted onto MC instead. Why in the name of the archons was she allowing other men (least of all one that drove him loony) to position themselves in such a close vicinity to her? Gods, did he love this woman more than his own life itself, but she was due for a lesson. He was going to instill a sweet punishment upon MC that she would never forget. Turning the corner, they soon reached the front of Angel’s Share. Throwing the door open to the closed pub, Diluc slammed it shut behind them before his hands were drawn to her body.

The wielder of pyro’s hands descended the trace of MC’s hips until they cupped the curve of her rear end. She breathed a wistful sigh as he fondled the sensitive mound of flesh. Flames of passion scorched through her veins, igniting her body in a burning desire so fierce, her knees trembled in duress at the grazing heat of the tycoon’s caresses. MC swayed into the embrace of Diluc’s chest, crashing into him as she fervently grasped onto his shirt to brace herself.

“Please,” a breathy whisper slipped from the purse of her lips. “Please, Diluc. I can’t wait any longer. Make me burn for you even more.”

Chuckling, Diluc drank in the sounds of MC’s moans amid lifting her up and settling her onto the counter of the bar. Yearning for more, MC’s hands were drawn to the back of his head. Tugging him closer, their lips collided with such a fierceness, her breath lingered, and a pleasurable tingling consumed the greedy inclination between her legs.

Diluc longed to satisfy his dear MC. Gazing down at the woman in question, she was a sheer exquisite mess of beauty. Her dress was hitched above her hips, sweat trickling down her thighs. The pupils of MC’s eyes were coated in a desirous lust, and her tongue traced the crease of lips in anticipation of what she was aching for. Oh, great archons did he want to worship MC. Both in body and soul, the nobleman wanted to take her here and now, drowning her in all the whims his affections had to offer.

Alas, his ravishing of MC would have to take pause. For flashbacks of Kaeya’s smug stupid face as he purposely taunted the owner of Dawn Winery danced into his mind. The way MC unsuspectingly smiled at the flirting ministrations the captain tossed her way infuriated Diluc. Never did he question her loyalty to him, but still….a tiny reminder of who MC belonged to wouldn’t harm anyone. In fact, it could even prove to be an enjoyable experience for the two of them. Slipping underneath the disheveled fabric of dress, Diluc caressed her thighs affectionately as he ascended higher until-

“Already, my ember? The real fun hasn’t even begun yet,” Diluc crooned, pressing two of his fingers against the wet fabric of the thin undergarment serving as a bothersome barrier for the woman writhing beneath him.

Diluc’s grasp around her waist tightened while he nonchalantly guided his fingers up against her lingerie, rubbing circles of friction against the wetness of her slit. MC’s nails clawed into his chest as the digits on his hands pressed proactively onto her core, occasionally flicking the bud of her womanhood. Diluc nudged his forehead against hers and leaned in to lick the bead of sweat trickling down the side of her face.

“Your eyes are practically begging me to indulge you even more,” Diluc huffed.

Making haste with his own trousers, his pants fell to the floor of the deserted pub. The pads of his fingers gripped firmly onto the trace of her silhouette. His clasp on MC was so tense, he could already make sight of the light bruises forging vividly, staining the surface of her skin. Concerned his jealousy consumed him with an out of line rashness, Diluc was about to withdraw until MC threw her arms around the base of his neck. Refusing to let her man pull away, she cradled him closer to dimiss the distance between them.

“Hold me tighter,” MC solicited, alluring to his carnal desire by batting her long lashes. “Remind me who I belong to.”

“Take care you heed not forget those words. Remember, you are mine, and mine alone,” his honeyed response melodiously rang into her ears as Diluc’s hips snapped forward to enjoin the pair as one.

Sensuous whimpers echoed yonder into the abyss of the tavern whilst MC entrusted herself to Diluc’s spoils. Reaching out to clutch the mound of her ass to brace her from the force of his thrusts, Diluc grunted in between the slaps of her breasts heaving down against her chest from the vigorous momentum of each gratifying movement. Diluc entwined his fingers in between MC’s, as her hitched breathing increased in volume. This response of hers was a telltale sign that approaching the final destination was within sight. He leaned in to pepper her fine skin in kisses, occasionally licking away at the beads of perspiration coating her.

“Diluc,” she breathed, desperate to catch the breaths he stole, yet unable to deny the pining fueling her tantalizing lust.

“I know,” he murmured, lifting her leg to enfold it around the cut of his toned waist to allow him a more accessible angle of entry.

“MC, everything about you is captivating,” he whispered. “Your very essence exhilarates the fibers of my very being. Never forget that.”

“Ah, stop torturing me, Diluc,” she moaned during the course of each of his lavish pecks that were assaulting the nape of MC’s neck.

“I shall cease the vexing of this punishment if you surrender and concede yourself over to me,” Diluc demanded, his tone raspy as he pined to bear witness to the scene of MC immersing herself while he drove her to climax. “Say my name-no, scratch that. Scream my name. Scream my name until that lovely voice of yours goes hoarse. Shout high and loud to the mighty archons that I’m the only one that will ever be able to please you.”

Halting the snapping motions of his hips, Diluc held firm and reached out to cradle MC’s chin. Tilting her gaze to lock into his own, he etched the part of her lower lip with his thumb. Tauntingly slow, Diluc slightly shifted the angle of his lower body, further inflicting torment on his squirming companion. Instead of bestowing the release MC was anticipating, the vision holder held her desire hostage by denying any additional penetration.

“Pledge yourself in a vow that your flames shall only ever be ignited by I. Do it. Do it now, and I will set you free from this heat.”

“Diluc, I-DILUC!!!!!”

An extravagant wanton scream escaped from MC, since despite Diluc’s request, he simply couldn’t bear to waste another moment and plunged deeper back into her core. The lewd sounds of her wetness resounded in the air as he pounded into MC, bucking madly, eager to remind her that it was him and him alone that would always be there to fulfill each and every one of her fantasies. It would be him, and him alone, that would allow MC to use him emotionally and physically as she sought fit to indulge in her heart’s content.

Wrapped around each other, the lines of where he began and she ended were lost in the swirl of pleasure trickling down to the curl of their toes. The heat consuming them was greater than it had ever been prior to this rough lovemaking session, and Diluc chewed on his lip to will himself to hold on for just a while longer.

Come on, hang in there.. Not until MC is satisfied. I can feel her tightening around me, so surely she should be finishing any moment.

Diluc’s prayers were answered, because he felt the familiar tightening of her encompassing around him. A wistful sigh accompanied MC’s relieved one as her body quivered from the aftermath of her coils fluttering from reaching her ograsm. Her body heaved and her back arched down onto the counter of the bar. Heavy and dropping from the aftermath of pleasure, MC was ready for a post-sex slumber and cuddles with Diluc. Placing her hands on the wood counter, MC was about to drop down onto the floor when the grip of her man encircled her suddenly.

“Bold of you to assume we were finished with your punishment,” Diluc coaxed, ignoring the squeal when he flipped MC over. Her bountiful chest was pressed flat up against the hard finished wood of the counter. “You were quite the naughty little vixen today, my ember. Perhaps another round should help you more clearly understand the error of your ways.”

Flinching out of reaction, the tension faded away and MC relaxed onto the counter while Diluc sprinkled kisses on her bare back. She whimpered when his arousal pressed once again at her opening, but then groaned when he pulled back.

“Fear not, my darling,” Diluc crooned, running his hand to tenderly stroke her back. “I plan on pleasuring you in all of our favorite positions until I’m satisfied that the fact that you are mine is engraved in your heart.”

His fingers twined through her hair, and Diluc gave a slight tug to bring MC closer to him. She wiggled her bum in the air impatiently, and groaned when his lips touched the responsive spot.

“Diluc,” MC swooned, her words as wet as the happy tears trickling down the side of her face. “I’m yours, my hero. Only yours, for now until forever separates us.”

“Until forever…..,” Diluc mimicked her promise, and willed his body for another round. Those were the final words uttered as they were eventually replaced with incoherent babblings, moans, and whimpers from the delight of losing themselves in each other.

The fates would ensure that Diluc and MC would live a prosperous future together. That much Diluc was sure of. Despite his perceptions, Diluc abided into a vow that for the rest of their days together, he would spend any amount of time reminding MC of just that fact.

#genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact smut #genshin impact fanfiction #diluc ragnvindr smut #diluc ragnvindr fanfic

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blahkugo · 3 years

Text

𝟕 ༒ 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔦𝔱 𝔞𝔡𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔶

⤷ dirty valentine m.list

⤷ complete hq m.list

wakatoshi ushijima — adultery / cucking

a/n: fucked around and made this kinda sad </3 that wasn’t in the plan but oh well

wc: 2.2k

tw: infidelity (obviously), exhibitionism / car sex, (1) forced orgasm, sadness (lmaooo)

“We can’t.”

It’s a phrase constantly crawling on the tip of your tongue—whispered beneath the flickering lights of club bathrooms or dimly-lit restaurant tables, sighed in grimy alleyways, and whined beneath stolen sheets. They’re words that exist everywhere, but always, always in the dark.

In the dark, it doesn’t feel so wrong.

“Stop it,” you hiss, swatting at the grabby hands on your hips. You ignore the fact that you allow his fingers to graze you for a second too long, pretend that his every touch is meaningless, does nothing to set your skin on fire or send your heart beating out of its cage.

Unapologetic and unyielding, it seemed ‘Toshi never quite understood the concept of personal space when it came to you. Even as kids, it was always welcomed; not once did you think him a nuisance. Not after a long night of too much tequila, when you crawled into bed together at age 17, not when you awoke the next morning enveloped in the larger man’s warm embrace, and not even when it happened again—and again, and again, and again.

‘Strictly sexual,’ you’d assert, huddled around a group of high school friends pressed for dirty details, but even then you didn’t believe it. Because the truth is plain as day: you’re in love with him.

But you are not in love with the ring on his left hand, four fingers down.

That same bejeweled digit grips your waist beneath the table right now, kneading and tickling at slick skin. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t have to, because his hand knows you’ll be there. Always there, always trembling, while your eyes flit back and forth between the side of his head and the door—feigning innocence while knowing his wife is just a few rooms away.

“I said stop, ‘Toshi,” your voice betrays you, hitching with every tap of his fingers. Though he finally turns to meet your eyes, he doesn’t slow or halt his movements, just stares unblinking for a long while.

It’s a feat not many attempt—the art of the long, fixed stare—yet, Ushijima has perfected it. And it would drive you absolutely insane if you didn’t know that with the towering man, there is no deceit in that gaze; what you see is what you get.

“We’re leaving,” his words come slow, but stern. And before you can utter a word of disagreement, he’s already got his coat on, his keys clinking in the palm of his hands. He doesn’t bother with her, simply calls to the other room, “I’ll be back love.”

She doesn’t question it, never does, but if it’s because she doesn’t want to or he never gives her the chance, you’re not quite sure. Either way, you’ve decided you don’t have the time to care, because you’re already out the door and in his sleek, black Escalade before you can bat an eye.

The ride back to your place is silent, as much of your time is with Ushijima now. It’s not a terrible predicament, might even be comfortable, but you can’t deny the slight turn in your gut when you glance towards him.

Is it guilt? Is it knowing precisely what will happen the moment he halts the car in a shaded area—always a shaded area, even when the sun is down—and bores into you once more with those olive eyes?

Or is it just anticipation?

You know the truth too well to lie. It’s felt it in every clench of your thighs, every gaze at hulking biceps as one hand grips the steering wheel, and every slow inch of his free hand up your thigh. He rubs soft circles into the skin mindlessly, a motion he’s too used to doing to think immoral.

But it is, or it should be. Because Ushijima knows exactly how this is going to end, knows that same hand will be picking at forbidden fruit before long—delving into a sweet nectar even Adam and Eve wouldn’t dare lay a finger on.

“You can just let me out here,” you attempt to avoid the inevitable, only to be ignored. He walks you up to your apartment, always does. Ushijima’s a man of honor, after all. Shows honor to his teammates, to his body, to his poor, sweet wife waiting at home; he’s just so good like that, you know?

You’re not in love with your fingers when they’re a prickly green, clenched against the cold leather seat.

Once he parks in a tight corner, far from any night owl neighbor’s prying eyes, he finally turns to you again. Maybe it’s the moon, the soft wisps of light that seem to strike him at the perfect angles, or perhaps it’s the devil’s sweet temptation—the simple knowledge that he wants it too. You’re not quite sure, but you can’t help yourself anymore.

Not when you climb across your seat and into his lap, not when you wrap your arms around him and pull close, and especially not when you nuzzle into his neck, inhaling enough pine and patchouli—the cologne he’s been wearing since you complimented it so many years ago—to last you for years to come.

“Missed you,” you exhale into warm skin.

“I see you everyday.”

“Still missed you.” And though Ushijima doesn’t say much, his arms pull you in just a bit tighter—and it says enough.

Before you know it, your nuzzles become open mouthed kisses, frantically peppered across the golden skin of his neck. There’s not enough time, never enough time, to appreciate Ushijima for what he’s worth.

But you try your damned hardest, sucking the skin just hard enough to elicit sharp inhales, but never to leave marks of your worship. This is the devil’s game after all, tempting you just enough to become enamored while knowing he’s not yours.

When he wraps a hand around your neck to tug you away, your stomach drops with disappointment for a moment. This is it, the moment you’ve always dreaded; Ushijima’s ready to end this crime of passion and go back to being the dutiful husband he is. But he only uses the movement to smash your lips together, to situate his broad arms at your hips, your waist, the little dip at the small of your back.

Ushijima’s kisses are much like his presentation to the world—sturdy, unwavering, stable. He isn’t sloppy or especially fervent like you are, clinging to him with need. His makeouts are a reassurance, a tiny pocket of home. Still, his body seems to betrays that show of strength, goosebumps running up the sides of his arms as you graze them, chest heaving while his tongue runs across your teeth and settles into yours.

“Take it off,” he snaps the waistband of your sweats, watchful eyes roaming the small stretch of skin. It’s a simple command, one that you follow happily, wiggling out of your clothing with a few soft giggles.

Your hands dart beneath his shirt, lightly scratching at the solid muscle that seems to tense beneath your touch. “You too,” you murmur between pecks, and when he doesn’t comply, “please.”

As soon as his chest is visible, you’re on him. It’s a feeling you can never get enough of, the smooth expanse of his pecks beneath your lips, licking and suckling at any inch you can get your mouth on. It’s fun, addicting even, but ‘Toshi’s reaction is what truly makes it worthwhile.

His breath hitches all at once, legs stiffening beneath you as fingernails dig crescents into your waist. Experimentation in college taught you that if you lick at his nipples, he might even let out a soft moan or two. And the sound makes you keen with desire, even if it is a bit comical (who’d have known the big, Adonis of a man likes getting his chest played with?)

For a brief moment, you wonder if she knows, before quickly dispelling the thought. This is your time with him, and besides–

“Oh– fuck,” you whine, brought back by Ushijima’s long middle finger grazing your slit. “Again.”

This time, you don’t have to say please.

Despite the lack of space, he takes his time sinking his fingers into you and—given the length you’re about to be taking—you appreciate the deed. He works you open, pumping you with a single digit before adding another.

Those lithe fingers don’t let up until you’re shaking, gripping his shoulders, mumbling prayers and curses into his skin. Every circle at your clit makes you gasp, every squelch of his fingers curling inside your tight cunt only makes you wetter.

“Let go,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, waiting oh-so patiently, even as his cock strains against your ass. Once, when he’d drunk enough to become uncharacteristically vocal, he’d confessed his favorite feeling was your ‘warm hole clenching around him’ when you reached your peak.

It’s that sudden memory that makes you shake your head, exhaling a distressed ‘nuh uh’ while he continues pressing into you. Ushijima’s eyebrows furrow in confusion before he ticks his jaw, the thumb on your clit simply moving faster to expel—what he thinks is—a sudden burst of brattiness. “I said,” he presses at the spot that makes your stomach drop, “cum.”

“Wait- ah, fuck– fuck!” Try as you might, you can’t stop the wave of pleasure that washes over you, your toes curling, head resting on his shoulder to steady yourself as you ride out your high. All the while, his fingers never stop moving, free hand shifting to stroke at your sweat-soaked hair while you tremble and clutch at him with shaky arms.

When he finally lets up, you remove your face from the crook of his neck, looking to Ushijima once more only to find him staring. His eyes are glassy, pupils blown over so heavily with lust, it lights you with a fervor and—as is the hulking man’s usual effect on you—you find yourself unable to think before moving.

You’re frenzied, kissing him once more, carding fingers through his hair, and tugging hard enough to elicit sharp gasps. You’re never quite so aggressive with him, typically leaving the dominance of it all to your insatiable counterpart, but the guttural moan that leaves his lips when you unsheath him only spurs you further.

“I wanted to ride you,” you speak while lining his cock against your slick cunt, “wanted to feel you inside me before I came.”

And with that simple sentence, your little moment of power comes to a close. Ushijima sinks into you with one quick movement, stretching you in a way that makes your skin burn and your gut heavy. Your arms are quickly bound behind you by his own, used as mere handles to pull you down against him with every thrust.

Even as you cry out, faint mumbles mounting to incoherent wails, there doesn’t seem to be any sort of reprieve. The air is thick, humid, filled with Ushijima’s low grunts, subtle curses, and the ever-enticing command to ‘stop whining and fucking take it.’

You know he doesn’t typically speak this way, knows that he says it for you and you alone—that he loves the way it makes your eyes widen and your mouth slacken, thighs snapping closed as you attempt to hold off for just a bit longer. It never works, because he knows you just as well. Every inch of your body feels empty when his hands aren’t roaming them, when he isn’t tweaking a finger against your pebbled nipples or running a warm palm up the small of your waist.

“Close?” He grunts, throwing his head back against the seat, unrelenting in pace. You can do nothing but let out garbled responses, crosses between ‘God, yes,’ and disjointed cries of his name over and over again. “Go ahead,” it’s less a green light and more a command, “cum for me.”

His dirty words may be curated for you, but it’s always the honesty of his eyes that sends you over. With Ushijima, what you see is what you get, and you swear it’s love you see—pure, unadulterated, clear as day.

When you feel yourself beginning to peak, it’s his eyes, of course, that render you immobile. You can’t bring yourself to settle into the crook of his neck, to bite his shoulder or screw your face shut. There is nothing to do but to look at him—to try and master the art of the long, fixed stare as he has—and fall apart.

“Oh fuck– ‘Toshi,” your mouth can’t keep up with the pleasure washing over you, “fuck, fuck, fuck, I love you.”

They’re words you’ve never dared utter, not like this, but once they’re out you can’t seem to stop yourself. They become a mantra, a broken record, a prayer that perhaps he’ll say them right back to you. Again and again, riding out your high as you shake and tremble and exhaust yourself with the words. I love you. I love you. I love you.

But words called out in the dead of night mean nothing to the day.

#ushijima x reader #haikyuu smut #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima smut #haikyuu fic #YEAH I’m DROPPING THIS MID-DAY & WHAT ABOUT IT #tw infidelity #tw exhibitionism #tw forced orgasms

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clonewarslover55 · 3 years

Text

Cuddles and soft sex with Old Man Boba(Who’s really only 41)

@peacefulwizardfox requested some Old Man Boba cuddles, so I did that and more!

Notes: This is for everyone who doesn’t hate old man Boba. If you hate his body then get the fuck off my blog :) Those of you who love his body? Enjoy some fluff and smut

Also! I am a legends whore so some legends Boba content is in this

Spoilers for season 2 of the Mandalorian chapter 14 kinda?

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, grumpy Boba being grumpy Boba, teasing, joking around, smut, soft smut, more fluff, Boba is beefy and it’s sexy

^^^^^^^!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!THIGH JIGGLE!!!!!!!!!!!!^^^^^^^

You laid on Boba’s large naked chest, tracing your fingers delicately along the many scars that covered his dark skin. Your long term lover watched you, his dark brown eyes hypnotizing. “You're beautiful, you know that right?”

Boba huffed a laugh, “I was eaten up by Sarlacc stomach acid for two days…..I’m getting old and-” You covered his beautiful mouth with your hand. “You’re still the most handsome man in the universe to me. And Boba, Cyar’ika, you’re forty one. You’re not old.” Boba rolled his eyes at you being sappy and sweet. He loved the attention though, but he’d never admit it.

“You’re going to make my teeth rot out one day.” Boba muttered and you shrugged, “You’re just saying that as an excuse because your old ass-” He slapped your bare ass and you yelped. “I’m kidding!” You laughed at his teasing glare and crawled on top of him fully. You kept laughing, Boba didn’t laugh but a small smile pulled at your lips. You knew it was hard for him to hold back a dumb grin and some chuckles.

Once Boba had hit forty you began making old man jokes here and there. You’re lucky you’re not human leather by now. Boba hated the jokes, but they were pretty funny.

He wrapped his thick arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. You buried your face in his neck, breathing in his wonderful scent. You both smelled of sex and one another, and it was addicting. You two had been in bed all day, since Slave I was on autopilot to your next destination. It was rare having a lazy day with “Mr. Works himself to death.”

Boba was always grumpy, even in bed when you two are cuddling. It’s just his personality, so it was easy to poke at the bear. You began kissing his neck, which was very very sensitive. Boba grunted and batted at you, clearly half asleep. You narrowed your eyes and kept teasing his neck with your lips and tongue. Boba could only huff and squeeze your ass as a weak defense.

You two had been sleeping and having sex all day, so he clearly didn’t mind. His bare cock sure didn’t mind either. Boba opened his eyes when you teasingly grinded your hips down against his, a growl ripping from his throat. You smirked and kissed him deeply, his lips fitting perfectly with yours. His hard cock was pressed against you, but not where Boba wanted it.

Boba gave you a fake irritated look when you pulled away, a smirk pulling at your lips. You’re lucky Boba was in a good mood, so he was letting you tease. If he wasn’t? You’d be under him and being rutted into like a bitch in heat.

You dragged your lips, tongue and teeth along his scarred throat. Boba exposed more of his throat, clenching his jaw when your teeth nipped his Adam's apple. Your mouth moved to his collar bones, then to his chest. You felt like worshipping your sexy bounty hunter lover, so you’d do exactly that.

His beautiful body was scarred and worn from the stressful life of a bounty hunter, Sarlacc acid, and the cruel twin Tatooine suns. It only made him even sexier to you, his scars telling a million stories. With age Boba has gotten thicker, but he kept it mostly muscle. He wasn’t as toned as he used to be, but you didn’t care. There was just more of him to love, to kiss. His stomach and chest have gotten softer, so he was even more comfortable to lay on now.

Boba laid his head back, enjoying your soft warm lips and tongue tracing his sensitive scars. A growl tore from his thick chest when you gently nipped one of his nipples. They were very sensitive for a man who’s worn a chest plate all of his life. Before you could move to his softening stomach he grabbed you and yanked you back to his face. You made an offended noise as he moved you.

“Boba I was doing something!! I can’t ever body worship you?” Boba snorted sarcastically, “You just enjoy the taste of my cock.” You got in his face, your nose brushing his, “Perhaps.” You sneered, your lips hardly brushing his. He smiled, but quickly hid it by yanking you into a passionate kiss. Fuck he loved you and your smart mouth.

Boba never lost the fire that burned within him, and you could always tell by the heat behind his lips. You nearly screamed in surprise when he flipped you over, pinning you down. “I wanted to be on top.” You huffed like a child, Boba just gave you a bemused look.

“Then don’t be slow.” He smirked when you glared at him. Boba, of course, got payback when he gently nipped one of your nipples. You moaned, the glare not leaving your face. “Bastard.” He chuckled at your word, his lips connecting with yours once again.

You and boba had been together for a while now, so he knew your body perfectly. He spread your things apart with his calloused hands, letting you know to throw your legs around his thick waist. His hot lips never detached from yours as he settled himself comfortably between your legs. His lips were so blinding that you hardly even noticed the change in position until he grinded his cock against your lips teasingly.

His taste was so addicting and erotic that you whined when he pulled away so you two could breathe. He smirked and moved his mouth to your neck, making sure to mark you up even more than he did earlier.

You moaned as his calloused hands began to play with your nipples, hardening them into peaks quickly. He moved his right hand away to trace a thick calloused finger along your slick folds. Boba smirked, “You’re so easy.” He nearly purred, causing you to blush. “You’re just sexy and very good at this.” You whispered, nipping his ear softly. Boba hummed, not disagreeing.

Boba kissed you again, his tongue wrestling with yours. You moaned into his mouth as he rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked entrance. You gripped his muscular shoulders, your nails ripping open the scratches from earlier. Boba groaned, loving the slight sting. Boba was a little self conscious about his scars, but he loves the ones you give him.

He buried his face into your neck when he pushed into you, his large cock filling you perfectly. Boba always filled you to the brim, his cock hitting every deep spot inside of you. You cried out his name, gripping his muscular body tightly. The sensation of him caused your walls to grip him tightly, making it hard for Boba to control himself

“Fuck you’re always so tight.” He growled out the words, his voice gruff from pleasure. You went to snark back a reply about him having a big cock. Instead, Boba shifted his hips slightly and your train of thought derailed. He smirked at your gasping reaction, he knew exactly where your special spots were. He was cocky about it too.

Boba began at a slow rhythm, taking his sweet time. Your body moved perfectly with his, your cunt squeezing around his shaft like a vice. Boba wasn’t the most vocal man, but you knew how to draw out those sweet erodic noises from him.

You dragged your nails along his scalp to the back of his neck, the sensitive skin there always fun to tease. Boba shivered, his cock twitching deep inside of you. Boba picked up his pace, his thrusts now deeper. He moaned loudly at your teasing touches, which only made your walls quiver around him.

The sensation of his lips on your neck, along with one of his hands playing with your nipples was enough to drive you mad alone. You had already cum a few times today, so you were incredibly sensitive.

Boba panted in your ear, his hot breath causing you to shiver. “That’s it baby.” He moaned the words out, his pace picking up. The small bedroom of Slave I was filled with absurd sounds of skin against skin and of your wet cunt. Boba nipped your ear, his scarred body pressed flush against yours. “That’s my good girl, so close for me.”

You whined at his heated words, your walls squeezing him even tighter. You knew not to cum before Boba said so, but he made it really hard for you. “Boba!” You dug your nails even deeper into his skin as he thrusted into your hot core faster.

“Boba please.” You threw your head back, the noises combined with the sensations driving you wild. You knew he loved it when you begged, so you begged. “Boba baby!” You cried, “Please please let me cum!!” Boba’s cock twitched at your words, a loud moan leaving his lips.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” He gave a few more rough thrusts, his orgasm just as close as yours. “Cum with me.” He snarled out the words, which made you cum hard. His warm seed filled you to the brim as you screamed out his name like a prayer.

You saw spots when you came, your throat already sore from your screams of pleasure. Boba rode out his orgasm with yours, his hips bucking softly. Once he was finished he pulled out, which made you whine at the loss.

Boba rolled onto his back, pulling you back onto his chest. You nuzzled your face between his large pectorals, your body feeling like jello. You were half asleep, enjoying Boba’s warmth and body.

“Cyar’ika.” He muttered, stirring your cock drunk mind. You blinked at him, a chuckle leaving his lips at your glare. “We should probably shower and prepare for-” You cut him off with a tight hug, “mo.” You mumbled, your words muffled by his large chest.

Boba sighed and stroked your hair, “Come on-” You hugged him tighter and he grunted. “You have to feel gross.” You snorted loudly at him, your face not moving from his chest. Boba sighed and laid his head back.

“You’re lucky I love you.” He continued to stroke your hair, “Five more minutes and that's it.” You pressed a kiss between his pectorals. Boba rolled his eyes at your muffled, “M...’love you too.”

After five minutes you were both sound asleep in one another's arms, forgetting completely about the job he had to get done soon. Your cuddles were more important to him though, but he’d never admit that.

Tags: @valkyrieofthehighfae @my-awakened-ghost @leias-left-hair-bun @cherry-cokes-world@iamassbuttkingofhell@jedi-mando @royalhandmaidens@simping-for-fives@colorfulloverbatturkey @catsnkooks@hounding-around @blue-space-porgs @peacefulwizardfox@julyzaa @ahsokatano-thetogruta@feathersforclones@chr0nicbackpain @commanderrivercc-3628 @nelba

#Old Man Boba #boba fett #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #the mandalorian spoilers

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noteguk · 3 years

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hiii, I'm not sure if you have any rules for requests, but could you do a Yoongi pwp with choking kink? Thank you in advance💗

— contents and warnings; pwp, boyfriend!yoongi x reader, established relationship, unprotected sex, choking, dirty talk, kind of rough sex, slight praise, overstimulation, mention of a terrible attempt at christmas seduction that obviously worked out, yoongi being lowkey whipped

— words; 1.6k

I powered through this during the last minutes of Christmas just because I wanted to have a themed fic... and nothing says ‘happy holidays’ like choking an elf.

Yoongi took it as a personal offense when he saw you waltzing out of his living room bathroom dressed in that skimpy Santa’s Elf costume, like you were an actual demon daring to step inside a church. As much as you swore, batting your eyelashes and smirking innocently, that you were just trying to get into the Christmas spirit, it was very obvious that you were just trying to get into something else. You knew very well what you were doing — and he knew it too — so it wasn’t a surprise when you two ended up where you did, with Yoongi on top of you, fucking the shit out of you on his pristine white couch.

“Look at me.”

His voice was so serious that you instantly complied, your eyes fluttering open as you met his own, hooded ones. Yoongi looked like a gorgeous mess above you, his hair sweaty and disheveled, cheeks painted by faint crimson hue. A beautiful frown of concentration decorated his features, his eyebrows coming down as he continued to thrust inside you — slowly, because he was feeling particularly wicked that night.

Yoongi allowed himself to smirk in satisfaction when you met his gaze, your eyes so disoriented and unfocused beneath him. If his gaze trailed further down, he would see the beautiful curvature of your breasts beneath your tight green crop top, bouncing up and down as he continued to piston his hips against yours. He was a man of clear, objective needs: he wanted to fuck you, and he wouldn’t waste any time with some bothersome removal of your clothes when he could just pull your panties to the side and go to town.

Besides, that hot little top and skirt you were wearing — combined with the red and white stripped thigh high socks that were making him lose his mind — were the instigators of that Fucking Session in the first place. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to take them off. Yet.

“I wish you could see how pretty you look when I fuck you… such pretty lips,” he told you in a breathless whisper, lowering his body so he could place a messy kiss against your mouth. You gasped his name when he pulled away, but Yoongi remained unfazed by your reaction. “Pretty hair.” His hand pulled on it slightly, making a needy whimper leave your throat. He smirked a bit at that, but quickly grew serious once more. He didn’t know if he wanted to make love to you, or if he wanted to fuck you so hard that you wouldn’t walk for the rest of the holidays. Probably both. “Pretty neck…”

Yoongi leaned in and attacked your neck for the second time that night, loving the way that your skin was already marked by his previous actions. His tongue came out between his lips, licking the bruises and tracing patterns on your skin, making you moan out as your nails scratched down his back. You two hadn’t opened presents yet, but, if that was his, he was beyond satisfied.

“Y-Yoongi, you feel so good in me,” you cried out. The sensation of his cock pumping inside you was intoxicating, your eyes rolling back as he placed his hands beneath your thighs and angled your hips upwards, mouth never leaving your neck. The new position got the tip of his cock ramming against your sweet spot, legs starting to tremble as your pleasure increased exponentially. “God, right there, Yoongi, don’t stop—”

“You’re getting so fucking tight around my cock,” he breathed out, nails digging against your skin. Finally, Yoongi found the force within him to move away from your neck, staring at the beautiful art he had imprinted on your flesh — shades of purple and red blooming on your skin — and then meeting your gaze once more. There, he saw the sparkles of desperation and desire that he loved so much; a small tear at the corner of one of them.

You were the most stunning thing he had ever seen.

All of you signaled him that you were close: the blush on your cheeks, the loudness of your whimpers, the vague roll of your eyes and perking of your hips every time he slammed back against your throbbing core. Yoongi wished that he could have this image forever, the perfection of your features making his heart melt inside his chest. He loved you so much that it was almost painful.

One of his hands left your thighs, brushing up your exposed midriff and grabbing your breast before, at last, finding its way around your beautiful neck. Your eyes widened at the hidden meaning of his action, your tongue coming out to lick your lips in anticipation. “Do you want your present, baby?”

You couldn’t nod fast enough, your orgasm loudly creeping up on your spine. The sounds of your wetness were filling the living room air, almost winning against the stupid, off-tune karaoke version of “Last Christmas” that you convinced your boyfriend to play. “Please,” you gasped.

If Yoongi felt the way you clenched around him, he didn’t show it. “Please what, baby?” He teased, just slightly pressing on the sides of your neck before letting it go. “Use your words so I know what you want.”

“Please, Yoongi, choke me.” You bit your lip, fighting against the guttural moan that almost escaped you. You were so, so on edge. It felt like your entire body was in overdrive; sweat accumulating between your breasts, on your nape; your heartbeat echoing inside your ears and lungs unable to expand fast enough. You just needed a bit more to tilt you over. “Please, please, I’m so close.”

Because it was Christmas and Yoongi wasn’t feeling like a grinch, he didn’t push you any more than that. Delicately, his fingers started pressing down on the sides of your neck, slowly cutting your circulation; his stare glued to the beautiful pleasure that melted on your face. He knew the signs very well — in fact, he knew your entire body very well, especially after years of being by your side — and so he took the front seat to watch as ecstasy was building up inside you. Yoongi followed it as it grew larger, more overbearing, until you were gasping out his name like a prayer and your cunt was pulsating around him; timid gasps of air leaving your lips.

Then, he let go.

Your orgasm overtook you at the same time that the circulation returned to your brain, the sensation becoming one of sheer, unabashed euphoria. With a muffled sob, you came hard around Yoongi, trembling in his hold as he continued to move in and out of you, whispering how good you were for him, how well you took him. It wasn’t long before the pleasure was morphing into discomfort, but you swallowed your complaints. Yoongi had already given your gift, and now you had to give him his.

Regardless of how your mind saw the situation, your body still betrayed you and your legs flinched at the new wave of sensitivity, making your skirt move upwards. With a foggy vision, you watched as Yoongi’s eyes fell in the space between your thighs, widening slightly as he followed the way his cock pounded inside your wet pussy. That seemed to be the last push he needed to fucking lose it, because, within a second, he was fucking you harder than ever before.

“Y-Yoongi!” You yelped, head rolling back against the cushions as he pistoned inside you. You didn’t want him to stop, as much as it was starting to hurt, you wanted him to cum inside you.

“Almost there, baby, fuck,” he cursed, his voice a cloud of heat against your ear. Yoongi was moaning and groaning, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy, and you knew he was serious. You could get lost in that moment, just following his desperation as he lost himself inside you, worshipping you like you were made of gold. “God, you feel like heaven, baby. I’m— I’m gonna cum.”

With a few more thrusts and sweet words directed at you, Yoongi spilled himself inside your pussy, grunting through his orgasm before, at last, he crashed against your chest with a deep, satisfied sigh.

A tender smirk curled up on your lips, one hand on his shoulder and the other one playing with his dark hair. “Thanks for that,” you said playfully.

“You’re such a little demon,” he mumbled against your breasts, but his voice was devoid of any actual roughness. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Changing into this stupid sexy elf costume. Making me say the words ‘sexy elf’ as if that’s not a sin on itself.”

You giggled at that, and Yoongi thought that was the most beautiful sound that had ever graced his ears. He almost forgave you for the Christmas karaoke playlist that you had chosen for the night. “Perhaps,” you told him. He wasn’t looking at you, but he could hear the smile in your voice. “And you fell right into my trap.”

Yoongi grunted. “I hate this outfit, by the way.” He tugged at the hem of your skirt. “You should wear it more often.”

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