#tw: smut

[kit-williams]

Barn Anon. Here's one, I'll try another maybe. My feet is being used as a chew toy atm so I'm not that focused.

Gaius purrs deep and rough as his precious human shyly settles down on his lap. Her dainty fingers feel so fragile as she touches one long scar that stretches from his right shoulder to his left hip. He watches how her cheeks redden as her fingers drifts down across his abdomen. He plucks her hand from his body to press a kiss to those fingers.

Her heart is racing, it's the most delightful beating he has ever heard. Blue eyes darken with desire as when she moves only to rub against him even more. Oh he knows it isn't intended but he can't deny that it makes him want her more. He nuzzles his human, moving to trail his lips along her neck as he gently pushes her down onto the bed. Oh isn't she pretty? He has the prettiest human in the world, even those nobles he had seen back on his world pale in comparison to her.

And he has her all to himself. He drinks in her beauty as she lays bare beneath him. Last month his human had gone to a visit a friend who had recently birthed a child. She had came back gushing to him about how her friend's infant was so cute. He had seen the wishful look in her eyes. Well that is something he could give to her isn't it?

She tries to pull him closer, something he's more than happy to do. Kissing his human passionately, he purrs roughly. He'll give his human a baby of her own... one from him, a little girl with his eyes and her soft flowing hair. Maybe a boy as well... two, three boys? He'll give her as many as she allows him to.

She's so shy, it's her first time? That's alright, it's his first time as well. let him take the lead in this, he'll be gentle he promise. She's his, he can make her feel good, give her everything he can... everything.

@egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts

tw: smut, the romantic L word is used

"Gaius! Gaius!" She chanted as he rolled his hips slowly against hers. Slowly dragging his cock in and out of her warm and moist sex. Her eyes closed and Gaius let his eyes roam over her body... her breasts had his love "bites", more so hickies, and her nipples were swollen from when he was too encouraged to make her feel good... too lost in the thought of something dancing across his tongue when she had a little one on her hip.

Her hand does its best to remained laced with his much larger one as the muscles of his other arm flex as he holds up his entire body weight to keep himself from crushing her. The soft meager request to be under him... he should have had her on top but... his mouth presses against hers quieting her mewling of his name as his ears just focus on her breathing... the sound of her heart beat... and the way her walls wet around his cock... the soft insides of her body that welcome him eagerly inside... the wet squelch of his cock moving in... the gentle clap of his hips to hers.

He loved her. He wasn't made to love but there was always talks of what he would do when the galaxy was finally conquered... and humanity was finally safe... perhaps the thoughts of something like this danced sensually across his mind. So yes... Gaius indeed loved her with his whole entire being.

How she touched him gently as if he was still fully human and not a living weapon... how she tried her best to keep up in making sure he felt good. He felt amused as it only made him work harder to watch her fall apart underneath him. She always did her best to take care of him... it was his turn to give her all that he could.

"Gaius!" She chanted as if that was her only lifeline to this moment. He moved her legs slightly, her feet resting on his shoulders as he moved faster, his bed creaking slightly... he told her in gothic his devotion to her... making a promise to her how he would be here for her always... his blades for her... he was her weapon... and returning home be damned if he could have someone like her with him for a portion of his life.

She unraveled under him as he finished his oath, thrusting through her orgasm making her feel alive as he groaned her name as he split himself inside of her. She looked so good in the sea of dark fabric that was his bedding. He lounged on his side, with his cheek against the back of his hand as she laid there recovering and all the while Gaius was smiling. Besides this position was optimal for ease of affection between them like how she pulled him in for another kiss...

#reply #barn anon #warhammer 40k #answer #tales from the barn #non canon husbandry #gaius the world eater #gaius the war hound #tw: smut #tw: love

[diaryofaprettyprincess]

simon 'ghost' riley x girly!innocent!reader..

when he fucks you you get so overwhelmed, ur body raising with goosebumps, ur nipples pert and sensitive as they brush against his scarred tattooed chest. u cry n whine, making small cute gasps everytime he bottoms out into you, drool leaking from ur mouth as ur mascara makes small streaks down ur face.

he alternates between slow n hard thrusts and fast and hard thrusts, his cock making ur tummy flutter as he manhandles u (sort of accidentally, he kind of forgets how much smaller than him u are), he'll stick his thumb in ur mouth, his other fingers grasping onto the side of ur face as he forces you to look up at him with doe eyes. its a sweaty, slippery mess between the two of u as u sniffle, digging ur light-pink polished manicured nails into his bulky biceps, rutting ur hips upward as u now have no control over what ur lower body does. ur swollen button rubbing gently against the dark curls of his lower region.

everything feels so good, ur eyes crossing n closing as u wrap ur arms around him, his scent intoxicating and surrounding you.

when u cum, ur cunt fluttering around his dick, ur hole stretched so wide u can feel him in ur tummy, ur whole body stiffens, and u havent realized that u have not taken a breath yet until simon shushes you through his grunts then runs his large hand along the side of ur torso as a means of trying to calm u--even though his hips are stuttering and hes pounding into you, using u. "breathe, sweet girl, breathe." his voice is strained as he fucks ur hole, ur cunt tightening around him. ur back arches off the mattress, ur breasts rubbing against his chest, furthering ur intense climax as u gasp for air, small sobs escaping ur throat as simon kisses ur neck then ur lips messily, his cock still driving inside of you. he holds u close to him as he teeters off of the edge, ur hips bucking wildly, ur cum dripping onto the sheets underneath you, ur eyebrows pinched upwards as u hug simon closer to ur body. u have never felt anything like this. not before him, at least.

"i got you, baby..I got you," he whispers gruffly, his accent more prominant as he comes, his seed warming ur pussy as he fucks it into u, choking on a moan as he grips ur body closer to his, ramming into u animalistically-- the act of him using u and his fingers bruising ur hips making another wave of ur orgasm rock through ur body, whines and moans leaving ur throat. "that's it..good girll." he whispers, slowing his hips. "did such a good job, didn't you sweet girl? such a good job. 's okay know it's alot.." u slump onto him as u come down from ur high, whining softly as ur drool gets on his shoulder, his rough hands roaming ur body as he gives u lots of kisses, praising u <333

#ghost cod smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simonriley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley x innocent!reader #simon riley x girly!reader #cod mwf2 #simon 'ghost' riley x innocent!reader #simon riley smut #tw: smut #innocent!reader #girly!reader #diaryofaprettyprincess

[arminsumi]

🔞 MDNI : JJK men appreciating your hip dips

Content : fluff, smut, fem!reader

Warnings : mentions light breeding/marking/bruising, faceriding (Choso), cunnilingus, nicknames, insecurities (hip dips), +++

GOJO responds dumbly: "But baby! I couldn't live without them." he means it. Your pussy sends him into orbit; he needs to grip your hip dips so he can stay on earth. "If you won't appreciate them, then my dick and I will! 😋💦"

GETO texts you a reply while at work: oh should i hold them tighter when i eat u out next time? will that make u feel better princess? 🖤 and pampers you for the whole weekend... in between your thighs for hours until there's slick smeared across his cheeks and your inner thighs. He keeps a possessive hand on your hip dips from then on.

SUKUNA responds with a sarcastic scoff, "What do I think of your "hip dips"? I don't know — why don't you ask my dick? It's always hard for them." and then he proceeds to show you what he and his dick think of your hip dips by fucking you into the mattress, making sure to dig his nails into your hip dips until crescent marks are left.

NANAMI is a darling and responds with full seriousness, "I love every part of your body. You're my goddess." and leads you to the bedroom by the hand, kissing you tenderly. "You know how I feel when I see your hip dips?" he traces his fingers over the curve of your hips that you're insecure about, "I feel like giving you my babies." and he spends the whole night fucking his babies into your hips 💗

CHOSO raises his brows in utter confusion. "What are hip dips? Oh you mean these?" he pinches and gropes them with his veiny hands. You explain your dislike for them, and he doesn't get it. "Shit, what are you on about? Shut up and sit your "hip dips" my face, girl." and then Choso restrains you against his face by holding your hip dips like handles. He doesn't stop eating you out until your head goes blank — blank enough to forget your insecurities.

TOJI just grunts like you're being ridiculous and pulls you in for a rough neck kiss by your hip dips, grabbing them tight with his big hands. He loves the feeling of his fingers sinking into the plush fat, it makes him rock hard in no time. "Oh doll, I'm gonna fuck ya good 'n bruise those hip dips, how's that sound? Mhm. Get on the fucking bed." and he unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, and stuffs your mouth with his thick fingers as you collapse backwards excitedly on the bed. The morning after, you've got soft bruises decorating your hips to remind you how horny your hip dips make Toji.

IN CONCLUSION they are horny for your hip dips.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

#mdni #🔞.smut #tw: smut #fluff #smut #gojo #geto #sukuna #nanami #choso #toji #jjk #gojo smut #geto smut #sukuna smut #nanami smut #choso smut #toji smut #gojo fluff #geto fluff #sukuna fluff #nanami fluff #choso fluff #toji fluff #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut

[diejager]

(not a request, just some,,,, smol innocent thots)

at the point when dbf!horangi stays at your place too much it's practically normal for him to sleepover, while stepdad!konig dicking down your mom in their room, horangi's would be having his way with you in yours. and konig would sneak out make a beeline for you (now that your obvious mom passes out) to tagteam you with his best bud 😏.

A bloody wonderful thought! I know it's not a request, but I had to write something when you just GAVE it to me on a silver platter!

Since your mom's just down the hall, Horangi's pressing your head into your pillow to muffle your cries and moans while he rocks into you, the engorged tip of his leaky cock throbbing against your spongy cervix. Your so much younger than him that it becomes such a turn on to have this power over you in both experience and strength.

Horangi likes to draw it out, edging you once of twice before he lets you come. He's so rough with you, manhandling you into different positions that still keeps your voice down. He's filled you two or three time by the time your stepdad rushes in. Horangi flips you over, spreading your legs to show König the mess he made while your stepdad was busy fucking your mother unconscious.

It's a taunt to him, showing him how good Horangi was being with you and how dumb you were becoming. It drives König insane knowing that Horangi already had you dumbed down without him. Jealousy bleeds into his body, it makes König pound you into your bed, the bead creaks and slams against the wall.

He bends you in many ways, pulling your legs over his shoulders to drive himself deeper before he comes; he holds you up by your throat, back arching towards Horangi's chest for him to suck and pull at your nipples; he splays you open, thighs wide around his hips, watching his thick cock ram raw - he fucks your mom with a condom, he doesn't need a child at his age and doesn't want one with her, if he does have one, he'd prefer it to happen with you - until you see stars.

If you're lucky to still be conscious by the end, you'd be pressed between them, taking Horangi's veiny cock in your ass and your big stepdad's dick deep into your tight cunt.

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #konig x reader #horangi smut #horangi x reader #kim horangi hong jin #horangi #konig x reader smut #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig x reader #stepdad!konig #stepdad!könig #dbf!horangi #tw: cheating #tw: dubcon #tw: stepcest #tw: smut #fem! reader #afab reader #mw2 smut

[boundinparchment]

Storm’s End

Usually, he can manage just fine when the season comes. Every season, he fights this. And every season, it gets harder and harder to ignore. Until he cannot wait any longer and you are perfect, just as you are.

Neuvillette/Female Reader, in which Neuvillette is a dragon, determined to breed. Explicit sexual content; breeding kink. MDNI.

Story also on AO3; link only accessible for registered users.

Usually, he can manage just fine when the season comes.  Bury himself in work, keep busy, limit his interaction with you until it passes and he is no longer blinded by pure, needy lust.  You are disappointed, nerves frayed, but nonetheless, understanding.

He doesn’t want to hurt you, or force you into a decision all because of his instincts.  Instincts that override all basic logic.

Neuvillette is fighting them as you wish him a good morning.  He can smell the difference in your hormones, your body undergoing your own cycle, priming itself.  Very rarely were you in sync with him.

He swallows.

You’re perfect right now.  He could take you, here in the kitchen, and have you filled to the brim before the pot of coffee has even finished—

“Neuvi?”

You blink up at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.  Concern lines your brow for the briefest of seconds.

“Let me help,” you plea.  “Please, Neuvillette, I’m your partner…”

“You do not know what you ask of me, mon cœur.”

“Then tell me.  Prepare me.  How is it any different than what we’ve done before?”

That fire, that fight, in you isn’t helping anything.  Certainly not the strain of his members against his pants.  The knowledge that you are ripe, absolutely divine and essentially guaranteed to bloom only compounds matters more and he grips the top of his cane tighter, gloves squeaking slightly.

Every season, he fights this.  And every season, it gets harder and harder to ignore.

“I cannot stop once I give in,” he says at last.    “Not until…”

You step up to him and whisper teasingly against his lips.

“Then breed me, Neuvillette.”

The last of his self-control snaps as your breath carries every reminder, changed by your hormones.

You are pinned to the kitchen wall in an instant, skirt hiked and panties pushed aside, his forked tongue tasting every inch of your mouth.  His teeth graze your lips and he tastes tiny drops of blood as your moan catches against his tongue.  His fingers delve, finding you not only wet but eager.  He pulls away just enough to take in your swollen lips, flushed face, half-lidded eyes.

Beautiful.  And he intends to make you even more so.

He holds your gaze, under no impression he is composed any longer; your eyes flicker to his lips and you wiggle against him, creating friction that sends a delicious shiver up his spine.  Neuvillette presses you against the wall further.

“There’s no going back,” he says with what little control he can muster.  “You won’t be leaving his house until your womb is full or the season ends.  The former is far more probable.”

It’s your turn for your breath to catch and you swallow audibly.

“Then at least take me in bed, first?” you ask.

The bedroom isn’t far.  In the haze of your musk, Neuvillette manages to swiftly throw you onto the bed, unfasten his belt, and return his mouth to yours with unprecedented speed.  His tips nudge you, one aligned at your clit and the other at your entrance.  Neuvillette cannot help the growl that escapes him as he pushes into you to the hilt.

His strokes are deep and your walls clench, already demanding seed from him; he hasn’t even begun properly and you would see both of you undone in mere seconds.

That won’t stop him.  Not in this state.

You buck against him, meeting stroke for stroke but far too eager to keep a solid pace.

“Both, please, Neuvi.  I can take it,” you whine.  “Want to take it.”

You never have before.  His heart quickens and his cocks throb at the prospect.  He feels pre-cum drip from his exposed tip.

He obliges you without hesitation, withdrawing entirely and slowly parting you with both members.  You are tight, perhaps too tight, and he fights the urge to bury himself immediately.

And then, all is lost.

He can feel nothing but the warm velvet of your walls.  The room fills with your delicious moans and cries and the wet sounds of your coupling, the slap of skin on skin as he lifts your legs and pounds into you.  He has perfect access at this angle.  As your orgasm rips a silent scream from you, Neuvillette shoots deep inside, pumping into you as you ride out the first and then a second peak.

Neuvillette doesn’t leave you and instead helps turn you both onto your sides, facing one another.  You roll your hips, still eager, but your movement is languid and fatigued, your eyes glazed over with satisfaction and exhaustion.

A good session, but not successful.

Not yet.

The mere thought makes him twitch inside you again.  But first, he must let you rest.  It was a delicate balance now between caring for you and seeing to it that his seed took.  And it will.  It is only a matter of when, for he is nothing if not dedicated.

“Sleep for now, mon cœur,” he whispers.  “We are far from finished.”

#neuvillette #neuvillette/female reader #neuvillette x female reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette genshin #neuvilette x reader #tw: smut #tw: breeding #Limited to AO3 temporarily while I navigated mobile nonsense

[comatosebunny09]

warm-bodied | leon k.

genre(s): erotica, romance warning(s): female reader, soft dom leon, choking, clothed petting, mentions of bodily fluids, language, light dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, size kink, brief somnophilia, dry humping, stream of consciousness, lowercase, not proofread, written while under the influence now playing: some days - stella jang

he prefers you like this.

without the knit of your brows or the upturn of your lips. defenses buried beneath the gravel, your voice soft with sleep. no sharp quips, no biting comebacks. just your lids dancing and your mouth parting slightly with each exhale.

he likes it best when he can get away with stroking your cheek with the flat of his nails as you dream of pretty things. when he can root his nose into the curve of your shoulder and inhale.

you smell like earth and heady things, and you shift the slightest bit in his arms, nuzzling further into the safety of his body. cling to the fabric of his shirt like a grabby child, and the notion makes his lips—and dick—twitch.

the rain taps a steady rhythm on your makeshift shelter—a tarp he fashioned between two trees to shield you from the elements. 

you needed the rest, your bones shaky with fatigue. leon insisted after you reconvened following a split-up to gather intel. after you stumbled into his back when he took the lead to resume your search for the president’s daughter. wasn’t like you to be so out of sorts. so naturally, being the good partner leon was, he herded you to safety—or some semblance of it.

you allowed him to hold you beneath the veil of night. to ward off the insistent chill because you were soaked to the bone, your clothes sticking to you like a second skin. and he was warm and so very big, and…

well, he was just helping out his partner, right? definitely not swelling with something feral at the sight of your body wrapped snug in his coat and you burrowing into his armpit like a scared little bunny.

besides, it isn’t often he has you like this. in the clench of his arms, his fingers meandering along the skin of your neck. dragging further downward towards the divot between your collarbones, grazing over your breasts. further still, on an unhurried excursion to your nipples pebbling beneath your shirt. from the cold or his touch, he isn’t sure. but the sight of them makes him bite his lip as he chokes on a groan.

you stir when you feel him. clear the phlegm from your throat, your lids still heavy with sleep.

“leon,” you warn, voice rivaled by the patter of the rain overhead.

“i know.” humor hangs in the depths of his voice, interweaved with something sensual. something disarming. “just tryna help keep you warm, is all.”

snort. “we don’t have time for the nonsense.” 

leon scoffs. feigns hurt, his ministrations never faltering. sure, danger looms between each crackle of a tree branch. between every hoot of an owl in the distance, every whisper of wind, but—

a well-placed nipple pinch invokes a bitten-off growl from your throat. and he smiles at that, sighing hot and open-mouthed against the space behind your ear.

“we’ll make time, sweetheart.”

a promise clings to the air like the oaky aroma of petrichor, and he doesn’t miss how your thighs clench at the rumble of his voice. how you arch the slightest bit, pushing your breasts into the calluses of his hands, still feigning sleepiness. give him the go-ahead to touch you more, and he’s every bit of smug now as he kneads, plucks, and flicks his fingernails over your pretty, pretty nipples.

and, oh, how he wants to taste them; roll them over the bumps and grooves of his tongue, between his teeth. but given the angle and the timing, he’ll have to settle for this.

“gonna take care of you,” he huffs into the delicate hairs at the nape of your neck. hands dip a little further down, coasting over the ripples of your rib cage, massaging the meat of your belly, melding to your hipbones. “promise.”

you shudder, growing a little boneless, legs instinctively parting. and leon heeds the invitation, his nails raking up and down the inner sanctum of your thighs, all honey slow and teasing. and he intentionally nudges your meaty outer labia with the knuckles of his thumbs, and they’re swelling and fat in your pants, pulsating with each touch. he coos alongside you, infatuated by the beautiful noises he invokes upon touching you there.

you shiver again, a cute whimper easing past your lips. the sound shoots straight to his cock, painfully hard.

“want me here?” he croons. you nod all too quickly, earning a chuckle from him.

leon needs no further goading, taking to massaging your pussy through your pants with a cupped palm and artful fingers. revels in those breathy little sounds leaving your mouth and how your head falls back against his shoulder. and he’s there, mouthing over your carotid, sinking his teeth into whatever flesh he can reach.

his name drifts from your lips in a gentle cadence—in a dulcet supplication that makes his head spin, and he unconsciously grinds in tandem with the steady undulation of your hips. mind filled only with you you you. with getting you off. with tasting the briny tang of your cum. with being buried deep in the searing clench of your pussy, and the notion makes him nip at your shoulder to mask the pathetic little whimper burbling in his throat.

“right there?” he dotes at a particular buck of your hips, and your thigh craters beneath his fingers as he squeezes to anchor you down, keeping your legs spread so he can play at the seam of your pussy. “keep ‘em open for me, baby. yeah, just like that. gooood girl.”

he’s breathless now, sweat beading on his temple, because watching your resolve wither away has him leaking pre-spend and rutting into the cleft of your ass like a beast in heat. you burn hot as he shackles your neck with his hand, unraveling you little by little, your cunt so very wet and warm and weeping into his palm. and his hold on your throat tightens until he feels your pulse beat violently against the lines of his palm and your breath hitches.

“oh fuck, leon! so—so close! i’m gonna…i’m gonna—”

“yeah? gonna cum, baby? want you to. so bad. fuck. please.”

like a frayed bowstring stretched taut beyond its limits, you snap. topple as quickly as leon built you up, your slick saturating his fingers through the thickness of your cargo pants. and fuck fuck fuck, it’s embarrassing how quickly he cums after, drawn to his peak by the erratic stutter of your hips and that sinful tongue of yours curling around his name. he soaks his pants like an overzealous teen, fighting against his labored breaths and the urge to push you onto your back to fuck his cum into you.

but as the dust settles and the rainfall filters back in through the static of his mind, you look at him with a lazy smile. with a quirk to your brow, your gaze all-knowing and swimming with exhaustion.

“well, that’s one way to keep a girl warm.”

to which leon snorts, tugging you back into his arms, lips pursed and tender on the crown of your head.

masterlist

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon x fem reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil fic #leon smut #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #tw: smut #tw: choking #tw: language #cw: bodily fluids

[agoofyannoyancetolaw]

holy

a/n: decided to take some inspo from that very first fic I wrote so tada. It’s a long one so buckle in folks- also some reader dialog because it was needed for plot :/

minors DNI I’m fr.

phillip was a good man, a holy man, a priest. He had sworn celibacy a long time ago and has kept it every day even when the prettiest boys would look at him and his heart ached to feel their touch. He had his church and his small town and he was happy with just that and nothing more- until the little town he loved started to change around him, the church got hard for him to sit in with the feeling of burning pain coursing through him every time he preached.

he just couldn’t understand it?? Why had his god cursed him with these sudden pains in the place he called home? Why has his house felt so hauntingly open to the world as if someone was following him, watching him. And it didn’t help that every damn night he felt as if someone or something was in bed with him and teasing his senses and urges with every passing second.

he had searched his entire apartment, throwing things and moving chairs and desks to try to find where the hell this feeling had come from- only to find a small pentagram on the floor of the last owners carpet which he jumped at.

he fell back on the ground with a thud, his cross necklace falling directly onto the pentagram as a hazy feeling filled the air that made him want to gag or run away on his heels like a child.

your shadowy figure stood over him in silence- long horns, sharp claws, a tail and folded wings; a demon. God what had he done! He didn’t want this, he didn’t want to be killed or dammed or anything else! He was too focused on this thoughts to even feel your hand grip his chin and tilt his head up as if you were inspecting him

“ah. A pretty little priest, hm? Almost a shame you summoned me- although you’re stuck with me now either way.” You hummed with a smile, his eyes widening at your voice and your claim alike

“leave me be!! Creature of Satan-!” graves said in a surprisingly shaky voice for someone so educated on demons

“Aw, it’s not like I’m going to hurt you- but your stuck with me now” you hummed as you knocked him out with a simple tap on his shoulder due to his fear and carried him to his bed.

over the weeks he had gotten used to you. Your figure haunting over him while he tried to sleep and the burning he could feel when he was inside the church with you silently stalking outside past the windows of the church as if you were a normal person- god he even started to like having you around. your handsome voice ringing in his ear or your calloused hands touching him when you moved him around the house… but that would be wrong! You’re a demon, a creature banned by his god!

He tried ignoring it, he really did. But the feeling of your hands gripping at his hips and the feeling of your hot breath on his neck kept reminding him of those sinful ideas; yet none the less it sent his blood rushing to his lower half. Especially when you insisted to sleep next to him every night.

This morning when he woke up he would have to pry himself out of your grip to get ready for the day per usual. Although the feeling of your member practically flush against him was making him whine- he couldn’t contain the urge to nestle up against you and grind against you ever so slightly like a dog in heat. He felt horrid for doing this, sinful even.. but he continued anyway till you woke up with a lazy chuckle, soft pleas already falling from his pretty lips.

He only stopped when he felt your hands grip his hips and play with the waistband of his boxers, his entire body shuttering as he felt your warm hands tease his rim. He knew this was wrong, he knew this wouldn’t be something he could make up for with god- but it felt so good.

he practically lost his breath when he felt one of your digits slip into him slowly, the painful stretch making him scramble to try not to make noise as you played his body like a fiddle. He could already feel a hot coiling sensation slowly tense and build up in the depth of his mind. his pretty little jaw slack and tears dotting his eyes as you slid another finger in and pressed against his prostate softly; his cock twitching against his now tugged down boxers with pathetic whimpers to accompany the sensation. He clenched around your fingers like a vice as you prepped him, half out of it by the time you pulled your digits out.

he wiggled around a bit searching for your fingers again before he felt the burning pleasure of your members head against his rim, the slow push making him feel as if it was in his throat or skewering him whole. He was moaning loudly by the time your hips were flushed against his, his lips bruised from how hard he tried to keep his mouth shut.

his breath was sharp as he desperately tried to focus on the way you bucked into him and bruised his hips With your grip.. god how has he sworn to not do this!? He couldn’t even put together a sentence as he painted the sheets white, clenching around you so tightly that you did the same inside of him. his back arching so prettily when you pulled over and kissed him on the cheek as if he was yours…

he didn’t like the fact he had broken his oath, but he would sell his soul to you just to do it again.

#coyotes_horde #call of duty x reader #cod x you #bottom character #cod x male reader #sub character #top reader #dom reader #bottom charecter #mlm smut #tw: smut #tw: religious themes #phillip graves x male reader #phillip graves smut #phillip graves cod #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves #philip graves x reader #gay smut #graves x male reader #graves x reader #graves x you #bottom graves #priest au #graves smut #phillip graves call of duty #graves x top male reader

[m-ayo-o]

megumi….. puppy reader…… leg humping……mean megumi😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

HOLY FfffffffUCK OK MAYBE I CAN WRITE PUPPY READER

18+ SMUT NSFW 21+ HARD DOM OWNER MEGUMI this one is horrible and mean and pet play + collaring and he smacks her and chokes her and degrades her please do not read if u don't like bdsm stuff thank youuuu hybrid fics

"You stupid little thing."

Your owner always chastises you for humping him like this, tugging on your lead to snap you out of it.

"You're going to get my trousers dirty."

But tonight, he notices that his usual techniques aren't working. The collar around your neck slackens, the chain links fall loose, then he yanks it tight one more time. You emit a satisfying yelp, but your brainless motions continue.

"Ugh- if you want something from your owner you better speak up. I know I'm a sadist, you're a masochist, we're a matchmade in heaven and it's all very romantic, but I can't choke you like this all night."

"J-just need- more," you whimper.

So he huffs and tugs you up onto his lap, where he's sitting with his legs spread on the sofa, and positions you over one muscly thigh.

"Ride it, then."

And without question you move your hips back and forth while he tugs up your skirt. Your tail swishes from side to side and your pointed ears flop down when you get so distracted by the pleasure you have to remind yourself to breathe. And even that's coming out all shaky and hitched, now your clit is rubbing directly on the black material. Your owner doesn't allow you to wear underwear at home.

"Look at that."

He slides his finger through the slick mess you made on him, lifting his hand away with a sticky trail connecting to his trousers. He brings his fingers to your mouth now.

"Chew toy for puppy, here, open up."

Your obedience amuses him. But this is nothing. Some nights he has you jumping through all sorts of kinky hoops before he lets you cum, and it's even more work to even get to see his dick. Once he gets it out he'll decide if you've been good enough to touch him or not, or whether he'd just prefer to tease you and squirt his cum all over your tongue.

He can make you do anything he wants, and tonight that happens to be getting his little puppy creaming on his leg.

But you're getting distracted. By his face, of course. His lips. You want to kiss him.

"No. No kissing. Just ride my thigh like a good little slut and I might let you kiss my hand. If you do it right, how I like it."

Your little brain thinks that's terribly unfair so you let out a whine and he smacks your ass.

"Complaining? You want me to give you something to complain about?" He snaps, threatening to push you back onto the floor again. You shake your head and keep grinding on him.

The sensation between your legs now is getting all messy and hot and your clit is starting to throb. You let out a little plea for him to touch you so he just spanks you again and grabs your ass, making sure to drag you up and down nice and hard.

"That's it, puppy, ride me like that you silly girl."

He loves watching you get like this- he feels a combination of disgust and arousal at the way your tongue is starting to hang out of your mouth and your eyelids are dropping. You just look so dumb. But your body is getting him so undeniably hard it almost hurts. Maybe he'll have to use your puppy pussy tonight after all.

"O-owner, nghh- Megumi, Meg-uuumiiii~ I, I waannaa cum on your dick, oh please will you let me?"

"Cum on my thigh or not at all." He says tersely while slipping his fingers over your ass.

"If you beg and moan and complain you know what will happen."

He'll chain you up. Like when you were really naughty and just undid the zipper on his trousers and sucked at his cock when he was too tired to turn you down. He smacked you across your pretty face and tied your collar to the bannister. He left you there naked all night.

At least you learned your lesson.

So you keep sliding your pussy over him and get closer and closer till you feel that tidal wave approaching and starting to spill and you release-

"Ah, ah, hahhh, mmm-- hnn Megummiii-!!!"

-it's far too wet, you're soaked, this isn't right-

"Haha, oh look what you've done," he sees the pure panic in your eyes when you realise you squirted on him.

He looks livid.

"Megumi, Megumi, wait please please, I. I mmm-- I didn't mean to wait!!!"

He pushes you onto the floor and gets his dick out, holding it to your lips.

"I'll punish you later. First, suck."

megumi | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #female reader #megumi fushiguro #18+ content #megumi x reader #megumi imagine #megumi <3 #hybrid reader #puppy girl #puppy hybrid #bd/sm kink #tw: pet play #collar #tw: choking #tw: smut #tw: sex mention #tw: violence

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your drider general

A/N: It's the middle of October, so I wrote a spider story ^_^

There have been a lot of requests for NSFW drider content. I don't plan on doing any NSFW of my other drider character Vass (he is just too pure 😳), so this is a completely different story in a completely different universe, literally.

General Plot: You've been stolen from your home by a lich, who has declared himself King and assigned a handsome drider general to watch over you, his Queen.

Word Count: 7k

Drider (Ruvain) x fem reader

TW: arachnophobia! THERE ARE SPIDERS! (<- heavy spooky, spider content), a rather graphic death of a minor character, bondage, nsfw drider smut, some graphic violent talk, mention of self harm, yandere behaviors and talk

“You must do it again,” the lich who called himself King hissed at you. 

You tried not to glare, tried not to imagine his slow, agonizing death. The amulet he’d fuzed with his body prevented you from harming him, though if you had a single second left in your life where that amulet was gone, you would use it to cut off his cock and feed it to him. You’d spend your last moments smiling as he bled out while he choked to death. 

Instead, you lifted the spoon to your lips and tipped the soup into your mouth. It was delicious, as all things were in this castle, but you only tasted ash. 

“Yes, that’s more like a Queen,” he cooed, brushing his hand over your hair. 

His cold fingers drifted further to your cheek, and you forced yourself not to jerk your body away. Since you’d been captured only a few days earlier, you asked yourself if it was worth waiting to seek revenge. You could end yourself and join the family King Camus had slaughtered to obtain you in the afterlife. 

Perhaps you were too much of a coward, but you liked to think that one day you would find a way out of this trap, and then you would take your revenge. 

Camus was the cruel ruler of the country of Ventirest, where you’d been born. 

You would have lived and died in the small town Cerulle, where your family lived as ranchers, if Camus hadn’t come riding through on a countryside tour. He just happened to see you leading a cow through the market and, in his words, “fell in love.” 

That was a lie. Camus didn’t love anything but himself. He wasn’t a popular king, but he had that amulet and an army of monsters to keep the mostly rural country in line. You all toiled to pay his high taxes, though you made very little. He’d sent a page to your father to inform him you’d been chosen as his Queen and that your future was secure. 

Perhaps your family would have thanked him for your good fortune if it were a different King, but your parents were only afraid. How long until he grew bored of you and snuffed you out? They tried to hide you, saying you’d run off, and they couldn’t find you. Camus sent his dogs to sniff you out, and when they found you, your family was punished for protecting you. They were all killed, everyone who carried your family name, and you were thrown in his carriage on your way to the Capital. 

So, for the past two mornings, you’d wondered to yourself if this was all a waste of time. You pretended to be obedient. You did as he said and let him touch you, though you feared the day that his advances would grow more intimate. He’d promised you that you were lucky that he found you so desirable but was willing to give you a few days to “acclimate” before he forced you into his bed. 

You shuddered at the thought of his cold body, which carried the stench of rotting corpses touching your warm skin. 

“Master! Master!” one of Camus’ servants yelled, running in with a pile of maps and books in his arms. 

“What is it?” Camus snapped. “I’m in the middle of an etiquette lesson with my Queen. What can be so important?” 

“Of course, I would only interrupt you if it were dire!” the servant said, throwing himself to his knees in a bow. “And it is dire!” 

Scrolls and books flew everywhere as he prostrated himself. 

“Well, get on with it. What’s the matter?” Camus barked. 

“There’s an uprising, Your Majesty,” he whimpered, afraid he’d be killed as the messenger. “The villages of the west, where you obtained your Queen, have sworn to overthrow you for stealing a child of the land! They mean to take her back to her home.” 

Camus snorted, but your heart skipped in your chest. The people of the land came together for you? To seek revenge on your behalf? Your eyes misted with tears. You knew the people of the land were good and just. Their loyalty to a mere farm girl touched you deeply. Inside, you also wept for them. Camus was an immortal lich. You knew of no way to kill him. Many of the people who rode for you would die. 

“I didn’t steal her! I am the Goddess's chosen ruler of this land! All women are mine,” he snarled. “I could take every farm girl in this country, and I would still not be wrong. Perhaps I will after I’ve rendered their heads from their necks!” 

“Of course, of course,” the servant said. “I am only repeating the reports. I would never-” 

“Ruvain!” Camus shouted to nowhere in particular, and from the vaulted ceiling, cloaked in shadows, a drider appeared, elegantly sliding down a length of silk. Despite and maybe because of his bulbous body and eight brown legs, he was incredibly handsome. His eyes shimmered a rich gold, and his hair matched, laying over his tan shoulder in a thick braid. 

“You called, Your Majesty?” the half man, half spider, asked, his voice smooth as the silk he’d arrived on. 

“I need to convene with my generals. Guard the Queen!” Camus snapped. 

The drider looked a little offended. 

“Am I not a general, Your Radiance? Have I been demoted?” he asked. 

Camus let out a wet laugh. 

“No, but you’re the ugliest of the bunch,” he chortled. “I can’t leave my new Queen with someone too pretty, lest she get the wrong idea. Your eyes alone would send any woman running.” 

You felt outraged, not only that he questioned your character, but that he’d called this beautiful creature ugly. 

The drider’s eight eyes met yours for a moment. They shined like gold coins, and you saw they held the same fire and hate. He, too, was putting on an act. 

He gave Camus a deep bow. 

“As you wish, Your Highness,” he said, and Camus ran out of the room, dragging the poor servant behind him. 

When you were alone, you took the measure of the drider. 

“I don’t suppose you’d agree to lose me accidentally, would you?” you asked. “I can just slip out of the window over there. I’ll give you a slap if you want to say I fought you.”  

He let out a chuckle that made your heart flutter. 

“It is wise to let the King have his way,” he said vaguely, though he circled you, looking more closely. 

“I don’t like that he called you ugly,” you said, looking deeper into his eight gold eyes. “The only ugly one here is him. He smells like rot. You can smell that, can’t you? Everyone pretends…Anyway, I think you’re very handsome, actually. I quite like your legs, if I’m to be honest. And your eyes are…arresting…uh, in a…ah good way.”

At that, the drider smiled, revealing large, pointy teeth that sent a quake to your stomach. 

“He bathes in perfume,” he commented evasively, rescuing you from your own awkwardness. 

“Well, it’s not working. The perfumer should be shot…or maybe that’s just how bad he smells,” you said. 

The drider looked amused. 

“He hasn’t yet conquered you? Has he?” he asked. 

“If I could stab him in the neck, I would,” you admitted, clutching the silver spoon you held. “Only it wouldn’t work, would it? He’s warded himself cleverly.” 

“You don’t fear retribution? Telling all this to his general?” he asked, touching a lock of your hair and examining it. 

“I don’t believe he’s conquered you, either,” you said. “I’d bet my life on it. You want out of here just as much as I do. What’s keeping you? You’re strong…and very stealthy, I might add. How long were you watching from the ceiling?” 

He tipped his head, interested in you. Everyone around Ruvain whimpered and cowered in front of Camus; you were very different. 

“Where is a monster like me to go?” he asked. “The village from where you came would never accept me. If I didn’t work for Camus, I would have to live in the forest, where some intrepid knight would come for my head on a quest, thinking I had a magic liver or some other such nonsense. I was stolen from a land far from here, and I’m unsure how to return..” 

“So you bide your time serving that asshole?” you asked. 

He looked thoughtful. 

“I thought having access to the royal library would produce some results,” he admitted. “Camus pulled me through a portal. I can’t take a ship back. For all I know, he’s taken me from another universe entirely. In fact, that’s how he obtains all of his ‘monsters.’ To answer your other question, I’ve been watching you since you arrived.”

“And in all this time, you’ve found nothing?” you asked. 

He frowned. 

“Camus has a secret workshop that I think holds the answers I seek,” he said, “but I can’t get access to it. It’s warded, and if I tried, Camus would know and order my death. I have to approach it very carefully.” 

“Slimy bastard,” you grumbled, and Ruvain gave you another of his silky chuckles.  

“It is very frustrating, but I wouldn’t say I’ve found nothing. I’ve certainly found something,” he said, his eyes flashing. 

“Well, is it useful?” you asked. 

His eight eyes blinked in an eerie cascade. 

“Only time will answer that question,” he said. 

“Care to share?” you said, and he gave you a wide smile. 

“We’ve only just met. I can’t reveal all of my secrets,” he said. 

You scrubbed your hair and growled your frustration. 

“Since I’ve come here, it’s been nothing but secrets,” you huffed. “I miss my ranch. I miss my family. He took the only good things in my life, and now…now I’m just a doll for him to dress.” 

“Know this (Y/N): you have my protection,” he said. 

You sighed. 

“You don’t have to make me promises like that, Ruvain,” you said. “I know you’re only looking after me for Camus. I don’t need your lies. I’m all too aware of the truth.” 

He tipped his head and gave you a curious look. 

“You will learn the truth of things soon,” he said ominously. 

You wanted to ask more, but Camus came in like a tornado, his face the picture of rage. 

“How could they?” he snarled. “They are nothing…ants, and they think they can capture me? I’ll destroy them…crush them under my boot.” 

His spooky eyes, milky white, turned in your direction. 

“I’ll have you tonight!” he said, which seemed to cheer him up a bit. 

He crossed the room and cupped your cheeks in his hands, meeting your gaze. 

“You’re thrilled, aren’t you, darling?” he asked. “You’ve been waiting for my body, haven’t you? Saving yourself for me? I won’t make you wait any longer, and I’ll fly your virgin blood as a flag for those vermin to see as they arrive. Before they die, they’ll know I’ve taken you and filled you with my seed.” 

He was too frantic, his eyes filled with madness, to notice your fear. You did not want him to touch you, and you weren’t a virgin. You trembled, wondering what he would do when he discovered that fact. It wouldn’t be your virgin blood on that sheet; it would come straight from your veins. 

He clapped his hands and grinned, his crooked, rotting teeth making bile rise in your throat. 

“I must prepare myself!” he beamed. “Our first night of passion and the counteroffensive must be timed perfectly!” 

His eyes flicked to the drider. 

“Take my Queen into the city, to the fashion district,” he said. “I want her to choose something just for me. A dress, lingerie, oils and perfumes!” 

You were surprised he didn’t want to dress you himself, but it seemed he wanted to feel that you adored him, proving so with whatever you chose. You wanted to be sick. 

“Don’t let me down, (Y/N),” he said, winking at you. 

You gave him a tight bow. 

“It will be as you wish, Your Highness,” you choked out, and he hurried out of the room. 

You gave Ruvain a serious look. 

“End me, Ruvain,” you said. “I’m too much of a coward to put a knife to my own skin. Do me this favor. I won’t let that…monster touch me! He’ll have fuck my cold corpse.” 

Ruvain shook his head. 

“There are so many reasons I won’t grant you your request, but the most important for you to know is that death will not end your misery. If you kill yourself, If I killed you…he would resurrect you…tie you to him for eternity,” he explained. “A far worse fate than a few minutes underneath him.” 

Your heart turned cold as ice, and you gasped. 

“No,” you murmured. “He can’t! I can’t…” 

“He will,” Ruvain insisted, lowering himself so you were eye to eye.”Camus has no real magic but we can get out of artifacts. He experiments with alchemy. Reanimating bodies, fusing what few relics he finds to living hosts…But I told you. I will protect you.” 

“How?” you gasped. “He holds all the cards.” 

“Well, the window wasn’t a good option, but now we have some time to play with,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “First, we need to get a message out to your kin. They will only get themselves murdered coming here when we’ve just escaped.” 

“Escaped?” you asked. “What do you mean? You just said you wouldn’t let me escape.”

He smiled down at you. 

“I told you I would protect you,” he said. “I’ve been working out a plan since I first saw you.” 

You blinked up at him.

“You-you have?” you asked. 

He gave you a grave look. 

“I’m no better than Camus,” he admitted. “I won’t return you to your countrymen, but I will protect you. In my web, you will always be safe. Do you…do you hate me?” 

Your mouth dropped open, and you slowly shook your head. Your cheeks were burning like hot irons. The handsome drider thought he would take you for his own? Fear and uncertainty flickered within you, but Ruvain didn’t smell like death, and making love to him would be no hardship, assuming driders and humans could make love. 

“Um..n-no,” you said. “I don’t hate you…” 

He smiled, showing a white, sharp fang.

“That’s enough for me,” he said. “Now to your message. I have many spies that can reach out to your countrymen, but they won’t believe a warning coming from me. You must record one on a recording crystal. You’ll tell them you’ve escaped and are fleeing, not to come for you.” 

He gave you another sobering glance. 

“Once you record this, however, there is no doubt it will eventually fall into Camus’s hands. I have many spies, but so does he. He will know you ran from him, and he will spare no expense to find and punish you,” he said. 

“Wait, wait!” you said, waving your hands. “What about you? You have a mission here. We can’t run away without whatever he has in his lab!” 

He smiled again. 

“Don’t worry your pretty head over that,” he said. “With a gorgeous companion, my time in this realm will be far more…pleasant. Returning to my homeland can wait.” 

You took a step forward, setting a hand on his fuzzy leg. 

“I don’t want to tear your dreams from you, Ruvain,” you said. “It’s not fair. My family is gone…they’re never coming back, but yours are waiting for you.” 

His face softened into an expression that was hard to imagine a powerful drider would have. 

“You’re still very young,” he assured you. “People assume dreams are static things, that they are losing something if they change. That’s not true at all. Dreams morph and blossom like flowers. You are stealing nothing from me and giving me so much more in return.” 

Again, your cheeks burned from his tenderness. If he had some nefarious plan for you, he was doing a damn good job breaking down your walls. 

He chuckled. 

“Camus is going to be very angry when he realizes you walked right out of the front door to escape him,” he said. “I kind of wish I’d be here to see it.” 

You gave Ruvain a shy nod, and he waved a hand for you to proceed. 

“After you, my Queen,” he said. 

—

The sun was sinking low in the sky when you climbed into the royal carriage. Ruvain walked alongside as it made its way slowly through the bustling city. The citizens were used to seeing Camus’s monsters running errands, and many of them had even made friends when they went to drink in the bars and visit the brothels. 

They were much more afraid of who might be inside the carriage. No one wanted to be in the King’s eyeline. It would only lead to ruin. Ruvain had given you a recording crystal, and in the privacy of the carriage, you’d made your message and returned it to him. 

You’d told those who would avenge you that you were escaping and going into hiding. You told them not to look for you for their own safety but that you would send a message later to assure them you were okay. 

You could not tell them to drop their uprising. Those who would stand up to their King did so for many more reasons than a single woman; you were only the last straw. A revolt was a long time coming, so you sent them the Goddess’s blessing and only asked them to be smart and safe. Do not fly into battle blinded by rage, you’d warned. The King is wiley and immortal. You must be quiet and clever if you mean to unseat him. 

Your heart pounded as you entered the fashion district. Ruvain insisted you needed to be seen shopping, or the King’s spies would realize you were running immediately. Ruvain worked best in darkness, so you would stay out until sunset. 

You went to shop after shop poking around. Not intending to wear any of it, you purchased the most expensive, obnoxious items you could, happy to be spending the King’s money frivolously. Your heart pounded in your chest as the sun set. It was time to put your plan into action. 

Ruvain took you to a spa to have you bathed, plucked, and oiled up like a dinner chicken. Only you didn’t do any of that. The moment you were checked in, you asked one of the ladies for the bathroom and slipped out of the back door. 

Ruvain was supposed to meet you in the alley on the other side, and the two of you would climb the rooftops out of the city. 

That’s not who greeted you when you opened the door. Yes, Ruvain was there, but he was surrounded by six of Camus’s monsters– three nagas and three minotaurs. Camus stood there, smugly tossing the crystal you’d sent in his hand. 

“Tsk. Tsk.” he said, peering at you in the torchlight. “I offered you everything, and you chose to betray me. You should know this spider is a devil. He would have eaten you once you left the city. However, I am kind, and you are just a naive farmgirl; I’ll give you a chance at redemption. Come to me.” 

He held his hand out to you. You growled at him. Now that your escape plan had been discovered, there was no reason to pretend. 

“I’d rather he eat me one limb at a time than fuck your zombie body!” you snapped, then spat at him. 

Ruvain gave you a glance filled with both worry for your mouthing off and also sudden determination. Camus’s face turned to one of pure rage. 

“You snivelling bitch! You’re nothing! I could have had you and then tossed you in a ditch, but I offered you the world! To be a Queen!” 

“You’re nothing but a filthy murderer who hides behind creatures with nowhere else to go!” you shouted. “Those who have come to challenge you do so with nothing but pitchforks and torches. They have more spine than you’ll ever have!” 

“You won’t speak to me that way!” he snarled, the nagas at his side slithering towards you and one grabbing you by each arm. 

“I’m going to let you watch while my monsters tear this traitor’s legs off one by one!” Camus promised, glaring at Ruvain. 

His face had lost the fear it held and was only a mask of indifference. 

“Perhaps,” he said, eyeing the minotaurs approaching him. “You are not the only one protected by magic. You know so little of the creatures you've detained." 

He murmured some words under his breath, and in the flickering firelight, a wave of darkness roiled around you. It looked like the earth itself was writhing, a shiny black, living oil…only it wasn’t liquid. You couldn’t tell what it was exactly until the wave began climbing one of the naga’s bodies. Then it was all too clear; millions of spiders rolled over him like the tide rising. 

His screams pierced the night air as he frantically tried to brush them off. 

It was no use; the wave kept coming, and more and more spiders filled the alley, climbing the walls and smothering the torches. 

“I’ll give you a choice,” Ruvain told the other monsters. “You can die like your friend is going to die…or you can hand me the girl and join me.” 

“Don’t you dare!” Camus screeched, watching in horror as the naga’s face, covered in spiders, began to bloat, pustules forming and popping from their venomous bites until he all but dissolved in front of you. 

The other monsters looked horrified, and a moment later, you stumbled to the ground as they dropped you. 

“Come here, darling,” Ruvain hissed, waving a hand at you. 

You scrambled across the ground, the sea of spiders parting in your path. 

Ruvain scooped you up and set you on his back. 

“You fool!” Camus snarled, tearing his eyes away from the bloated, deformed body beside him. “You can’t harm me! I’m invincible!” 

Ruvain laughed. 

“I don’t need to harm you. In fact, I need you alive,” he said. He nodded at two of the minotaurs. “Bring him. We’re returning to the castle. I’m sending you all home.” 

Camus screamed and howled, but carrying him against his will was no harm, so his amulet did nothing. His only power was in the monsters he wielded. He carried no other weapons because he was arrogant and smug. His monsters would follow his order to the letter because they had nowhere else to go. 

The minotaurs dragged him behind you through the back alleys. Everyone in the city knew not to meddle in anyone else’s affairs. Camus himself had set such a precedent. So they ignored his cries, as they’d been taught. Shutters closed, and doors were locked as you proceeded to a secret back entrance to the castle. 

As you moved through the castle, the monsters you passed were quite happy to let you through. Ruvain told them simply that he was sending them home, and they fell in line, interested to see how this played out. They all had nothing to lose and everything to gain. 

You stopped in front of a door covered in runes. 

“Open it,” Ruvain barked. 

Camus, still filled with pride, shook his head. 

“Never! I’ll never bow to a bunch of mindless creatures!” he spat. 

Ruvain shrugged. 

“I can’t hurt you; we all know that,” he said. “But spiders crawling in and out of all your orifices for the rest of your miserable eternity causes no direct harm. I can’t imagine it will be pleasant, though.” 

If Camus’s face could blanch, it would have. 

“Let me go; I have to use my hands!” he snapped. 

The minotaurs looked to Ruvain for guidance, and after a thought, he nodded. 

Camus stumbled forward, turning three of the runes so they formed a pattern you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t seen it after it was solved. The heavy stone door slid open to a set of stone stairs leading downward. 

“Let’s go, him first,” Ruvain said, shoving Camus forward. 

The parade of monsters followed Camus into the darkness. You worried he’d tricked you all when you finally reached a basement that smelled of rot. You coughed and covered your mouth. 

“What is that smell?” you asked, but it was soon clear. 

The laboratory, if you could call it that, was filled with dissected bodies. Monsters, people, you couldn’t tell one from the other as they were all flayed like raw fish. The only other notable thing other than sets of alchemy tools, bits of metal, and flesh was a large round mirror on one wall. 

“Hold him,” Ruvain told the minotaurs, “don’t let him touch anything. I know what I’m looking for.” 

Ruvain set you on the ground and started shuffling through papers. He gave a cheerful shout when he found the right scroll and a small book. You peeked over his shoulder, curious. 

“This is the spell to take us home,” he said, then showed you the book. “These are the coordinates of where he pulled us all from.” 

“Now then,” he said. “Since we no longer need him, what shall we do with him?” 

You all looked around the room,y our eyes landing on the torture equipment, disappointed you couldn’t just dissect him like he’d done to the poor souls rotting on the tables. 

One of the nagas had an idea. 

“Let’s lock him away, where no one will find him, and he’ll never escape,” he said, nodding to a small inset in the wall near the back of the room where a candelabra would normally go. It was just the right size for a body.

“I expect your silk is too strong to break with his fingers or teeth," the naga said.

Ruvain's face filled with an evil smile. 

“That it is, friend!” he said, “I can spin a silk so strong even steel swords or fire won’t break it.”  

“No! No! You can’t!” Camus screamed, but it was no use.

Locking him up caused no direct harm, so there was nothing he could do. As a lich, he did not need to eat or breathe, so a comfy coat of spider silk was harmless to his health.

He cried and begged, promising everyone in the room the world, but Ruvain simply took him in his arms, taking his time as he wrapped line after line of silk around him. The monsters listened to each scream and cry with satisfied smiles until Ruvain stuffed his mouth with spider silk and sealed it up. He finished wrapping as Camus whimpered, a mummy of white silk. Then he stuck him in the inset and sealed the whole thing up with a web of more silk. You couldn’t even hear him inside. From the outside, it looked like a nasty spider infestation but nothing more. 

The monsters gave one another high fives as their task was complete. 

“Now to send you all home,” Ruvain said. 

He scurried over to the mirror, twisting and turning various runes until a world appeared in the glass. 

“Home!” the minotaurs gasped, racing forward through it before Ruvain had even waved them on. 

You winced, expecting them to shatter the glass, but instead, they passed right through it. They ran through without a single glance back. One after another, he put in the coordinates of each of the monsters’ homes, and they left, some of them thanking him, others so excited they simply ran before the chance passed them by. When every monster was gone, you gave Ruvain a sad look. 

“It’s time for you,” you said, smiling a little. “You were my savior, and I can never thank you enough for that, but I understand you need to return home.” 

He smirked at you. 

“Now I can go home whenever I like,” he told you. “And perhaps I will someday, but now we have your world to attend to.” 

You looked at him, confused. 

“What do you mean? You’re free? Why aren’t you running like the rest?” you asked. 

“Because my world never needed me and this world needs a Queen,” he said. “And a Queen needs her guardian knight and first general. With the word of their Queen, your world will accept me, not as a monster, but as your companion.” 

He bowed in front of you, taking your hand and kissing it.

“I offer you my life, Your Radience,” he said, then peeked up and winked at you. “But don’t think because you’re my Queen, I’m ever letting you go. You’re mine, and we will rule this land together.” 

He stood and looked around. 

“Now, let’s get out of this filthy place. I’ll have the mirror moved somewhere that doesn’t smell like death and seal this miserable laboratory up forever,” he said. “I’ll  be sure to make it look like every other wall in this castle so no one has the bright idea to go exploring looking for treasure and instead finding an angry lich.” 

He returned you to his back, and the two of you ascended back to the empty castle. Footsteps echoed through the halls, and soon, you were faced with a bunch of farmers carrying torches and pitchforks. 

“Free her from the creature!” someone shouted, but you held up your hands in panic, worried they would hurt Ruvain. 

“My companion is not your enemy, people of the land!” you shouted. 

They all looked at one another, confused. 

“He’s one of Camus’s monsters!” one of them said. 

“NO, no. You are very wrong,” you explained. “Ruvain has freed us from Camus and sent all of the monsters back to their homes. They never wanted to be here to start. Ruvain is mine. You will not take him from me!” 

The villagers looked confused, but they’d noticed on the way in that no one had put up a fight. The monsters appeared to be gone, and the castle was empty, but what servants hadn’t run the moment no one was looking. 

“Her Majesty (Y/N) gives me too much credit,” Ruvain said, smiling down at you. “She is the one that deserves your thanks for freeing us from the nasty lich. I am only her servant, bound by the same gratitude as you should be. She is my Queen and should be yours as well for her service to the kingdom. There is a power vacuum now that the lich is gone. Do you want it filled with some other despot who cares nothing for you or a woman from your own land? She’s brave, kind, intelligent, and beautiful. The countryside will welcome a humble Queen who is one of their own.” 

Ruvain bowed to you deeply. The lead villager gave you an odd look and turned to discuss the issue with his fellow countrymen. A moment later, torches were extinguished, and pitchforks hit the floor with a clang as the villagers bowed as well. 

“Long live Queen (Y/N)!” they shouted in unison. 

You couldn’t help your burning cheeks, but you knew your kin needed strength, not a shy girl, so you tipped your head. 

“I promise to serve you well,” you said as Queenly as possible. “Now, we must rebuild what Camus has broken. You are the bravest, strongest citizens of Ventirest. You came here knowing you would face monsters with only your farmtools and spirits. I can never truly express how your care for a simple farm girl moved me. I would be honored to have you form my guard if you are willing.” 

“We will begin to rebuild tomorrow,” Ruvain said. “For tonight, you have traveled a long way, and the Queen has accomplished much in only a few hours. Let’s all rest. Run and tell the heralds to inform the people Camus is defeated. Tonight, they should celebrate their freedom.” 

The villagers gave Ruvain uncertain glances, but mostly because it was hard not to be frightened by such a large creature, especially one with eight legs. You encouraged them with a nod, and they gathered their tools and took off to the barracks where the monsters used to sleep when they ran the guard. 

“I’ve told you a lie,” Ruvain admitted when they’d gone as he sat you on his back. 

“What is that?” you asked, your heart fluttering, hoping he wouldn’t let you down, that he didn’t do this all to trick you. 

“I told them you needed rest when, really, I just wanted you all to myself,” he said. 

His gold eyes glinted with mischief. 

“Should I be worried?” you asked, your voice wan, and he chuckled. 

“Only if you don’t like orgasms,” he said, crawling down the hallway towards the unused Queens chambers. 

You’d have to fumigate the former King’s room and bed. It all smelled like rot. 

Your cheeks burned again at his words, and a very special tingle shot down your spine to your core. 

When you entered the room, he set you down on the floor, sliding the door shut behind you with one elegant leg. You watched, your heart racing, as he slowly and deliberately lit the fireplace, then the candles, casting your bedroom in soft, flickering light. 

When his gold eyes finally met yours, they were full of hunger. 

"You said you'd rather I eat you than for that lich to fuck you," he hummed, circling you to take in your form. 

He lowered his head, sniffing your neck.

"I liked that," he purred, and a shudder that was something between fear and excitement rolled through you. 

You let out a yip, as he pounced on you, taking you up in his arms and climbing gracefully to a shadowy corner at the arch of the vaulted curling. 

Candlelight flickered in his eyes so that they glowed in the darkness. 

Another surprised yelp echoed against the stone, mixed with the sound of fabric tearing as Ruvain ravenously stripped your dress from you with his teeth. Strips of gold and indigo fluttered to the floor far below. 

“You’ll never don human clothing again,” he insisted. “I’ll have dressed made of spider silk, so you always wear my mark.” 

When you were bare, he examined every part of you, all the white spinning web he crisscrossed to form a large nest for the two of you to rest. 

"Wh-what are you doing?" you asked, your breath shaking as one arm, then the other was bound by silver silk. 

He grinned at you. 

"This is how driders mate," he hummed, diligently tying elegant knots to bind your limbs. Your legs were tied open, and your neck and hips pulled slightly so your back was arched, your breasts presented to him. 

You had to admit the knots and lace he formed with strong, nimble fingers were beautiful and complex. You trembled both with a touch of fear and a lot of desire. His chest and arms were chiseled from a lifetime of climbing around lofty places. Your eyes followed his elegant movements. 

The men you'd known from town were stocky and strong from a farmer's life of chopping wood and eating beef, but Ruvain's figure was all athletic elegance. His muscles were chorded and lean, flexing as he tightened one knot and then another. 

It was a delight to watch. 

When he seemed happy with the lace of web he'd tied you up with; his attention turned to you. A finger traced your breasts, then drifted lower where his eyes ate up the tender flesh between your thighs. 

"I've been dying to taste you, darling," he said, glancing up. 

His lips brushed yours lightly at first, and then as if you were a sweet surprise, they landed more firmly, his tongue pushing into you. 

"Mmm," he groaned, tasting you as it slid over yours.

When he pulled away, he looked ravenous.

Lowering his head, he returned to examining you between your thighs, fingers parting your folds.

"I'm fascinated by your anatomy. Your two legs hide such a pretty treasure." 

He circled your clit, making you moan. Never in your life had you thought being trussed up would get you hot, but your cunt was dripping for him. You squirmed in the soft silk bindings, testing their tightness. You were his prey. He could do what he liked to you. 

Unable to hold himself back any longer, his head lowered, a long, searing tongue collecting the moisture at your slit. 

"Mmm," he hummed, licking you with long strokes between pressing kisses onto the inside of your thighs. "I love how soft you are. You're going to feel so good on my cock." 

His tongue explored your channel, making you let out a loud gasp. 

"Mmm, Ruvain," you murmured, making him chuckle, the silky laugh that made your nipples harden. 

"Are you eager for me?" he asked, teasing you with a finger as his eyes focused on your face, a smug smirk on his lips. 

"P-please Ruvain," you whimpered, every inch of your skin tense and sparkling, begging for release. 

"Be patient, little human," he purred. "I'm still exploring." 

One finger circled your back hole experimentally before two more entered your pussy. 

"Ahhh!" you mewled, twisting in your bonds. 

He lowered his head again, licking and sucking your clit until your pleading and sobbing filled the room. His fingers worked inside you gently, the third teasing you where you'd never been touched before. You didn't know it could feel good, but he drove you mad. He brought you higher and higher until you cracked, and an orgasm bloomed from deep in your core and blossomed over your whole body. 

Your nipples especially were tight and desperate for his touch. 

He pulled his fingers out of you, sucking your flavor off the ones covered in your juices. 

"Mmm," he said, briefly closing his eyes as he savored you. 

When you'd regained your senses, Ruvain was perched over you, palming his cock as he watched you. His other hand pinched a nipple, twisting it gently to see your response. The eyes you were trying to keep open squeezed shut as he toyed with them, soon leaning down to play with them with his tongue. 

"So sensitive," he growled, and you felt his sharp teeth nip at the sensitive skin, "and so vulnerable. You're all mine. I could keep you up here forever and torture you, making you fall apart over and over again for me." 

"I need you, Ruvain, please," you whimpered, your eyes on the large shaft he was stroking in his hand. 

The smile on his lips widened to show all of his sharp teeth. 

"I do like it when you beg," he hummed. "Your sweet pleas are very hard to resist." 

He didn't make you wait any longer, sheathing himself in your hot, wet cunt. He hissed, and his hands gripped your hips as he seated himself inside of you. 

"You're searing inside," he groaned, sliding slowly out and thrusting back in with a bit more force.  

You jerked in the silk as he drove into you for several strokes, purely for the pleasure of breaching you, before his sense came back to him. His eyes shone as he kneaded your breasts and curled his body down to you to invade your mouth with his tongue. It moved against yours, mimicking the treatment your pussy was getting. 

His powerful hips slammed into yours, held firm by his web. You cried out in his mouth, and you heard a lusty growl build in his throat. He pulled back, leaving your lips wet and shining. 

"That's it my sweet little human, milk my cock," he hummed, never taking his eyes off of yours. 

Your pussy was doing all of the work since you couldn't move, squeezing and spasming around his thick cock. 

"You belong to me. Every inch of your tender flesh; your mouth, your cunt, your cute little asshole are mine to use and enjoy," he growled, one hand clutching your throat while he pounded harder and more raggedly.

 "If anyone else touches what's mine, I'll kill them, slowly. You understand? I'm never letting you go. I'll never tolerate a competitor," he promised. "I'll let you perform your duties as Queen, but if you ever let anyone too close, I'll steal you away to my homeland, fucking your pretty body until you forget about this world altogether. I’ll make you my toy. You'll cum when I let you and beg me for my seed…and I will make you beg."

His threats were lost on you. Your thoughts were scattered, drowning in bliss as he filled you over and over again. Your pleasure was at his mercy. He could give it and take it away as he liked. Fortunately, at that moment, all he wanted to do was give. 

His finger circled your clit, while he sucked on your nipples, pushing you closer and closer to your end. 

"Beg me," he demanded. "Beg me to let you cum." 

You would have agreed to anything. 

"Please, please , Ruvain, please, don't stop," you wailed. "You feel so good. Please let me cum!" 

He gave you a devious smile at you as his eyes rolled back in his head. 

"Tell me you want me to fill you with my child," he demanded. "Tell me I'm the only one who gets to spend his seed in your womb." 

Your eyes squeezed shut, hovering just on the tip of an explosion. 

"Anything you want, Ruvain," you said. "I'll carry your child. I'll give my body to you; just please don't stop!" 

He laughed, pleased that you were willing to be his, and doubled his efforts. His mouth crashed against yours, pulling your tongue into his mouth and stroking it. You felt pleasure in places you'd never felt before. Your lips and tongue were sparkling. Your breasts ached, brushing against his chest, your nipples hard points. And finally, your cunt felt like a vice on his cock, his thick shaft hitting every sensitive spot. 

You detonated in his arms, the world dissolving, and your only conscious understanding was Ruvain's scent, touch, and delicious, overwhelming pleasure. Colors exploded behind your eyes, and your body felt like fireworks. Your muscles went completely limp as Ruvain emptied his cum inside you. There was so much, waves of hot fluid gushing from your cunt. You heard it splash against the stone floor far below you from somewhere far away. 

"I love you, (Y/N)," he breathed in your ear. "The moment he stole you from your village, you were mine. You may take time to feel the same tenderness for me, but I'm happy to wait." 

He carefully extracted you from the nest he'd made, orienting himself so he could tie you to his chest with more silk to rest. 

In any other circumstance, you would been frightened being so far up, but you felt perfectly safe tied to Ruvain's body, and your thoughts quickly muddied as you fell asleep.

#tw: spiders #tw: smut #tw: breeding #tw: monster fucking #tw: violence #tw: death #drider x human #drider boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster x girl #drider #yandere romance #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere monster #yandere x reader #male yandere #drider yandere #monster fucker #monster fic

[dxmoness]

─────── KEEP ME WARM OKAY DARLING?

━━━━ rezef hill. manhwa. the villainess is a marionette.

‣ nsfw, yandere. possessive thoughts, cockwarming! . ୨:୧

‣ masterlist . recent works . the villainess is a marionette. ━━━━

— NSFW UNDER CUT! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Name was a new maid of the young princess Cayena. She had been enjoying her job very much until he came into her life.

Rezef Hill, the crowned prince, was a cold-blooded prince who was rather used to getting his way. So when Name didn't comply to his wants, he had to take matters to his own hands.

So you could imagine the instant regret she felt when she finally complied to the prince's desires.

At first it was normal dates, then it became more... interesting requests to say the least. An example would be to sleep in bed with him.

During these times, Rezef tried holding himself back from doing anything that may make the beautiful woman before him to leave his side.

Not that he'd allow that of course. If she dare so much as step away from him, he'd chase her down. He'd kill anyone who'd dare touch her too. That's how far he was in absolute infatuation for the woman he knew as his ‘friend’. But she won't be his friend soon enough. No, she most definitely wouldn't.

Now the routine shifted a whole new turn when he finally made love to her. It was a memorable occasion in which she promised to be his. His, at last.

"Y-Your Highness..." She couldn't help but squirm while sitting on him.

"Hush. You will stay quiet and stay put, understood?" The husky whisper of the prince sent shivers down her spine. She shuddered, causing the prince to groan ever so slightly.

They were in his personal office where he sat and she sat too. but a normal sit on the lap was far different from what they were doing at this very moment.

Behind the desk, her skirts were hiked up while her warm drooling pussy held host to his length. A shiver rolled down her spine at the feeling of it. Her stomach knotted now.

Every once in a while he'd give a teasing thrust or a slight shake of his length that was still deep in her. But her pleas fell on deaf ears, the prince focusing more on his work than anything else. He'd eventually give in but only barely reaching your climax.

"Such a good girl." His whispers of sweet nothings drove her mad as she practically pleaded him to just move so she can at least come once.

Rezef only grins and kisses her forehead before returning to his work.

Long aching hours pass and he finally finished the last of his work. "Come on, princess. Let's go to my room." He pecked her lips before he pulls her up.

"I plan on fucking you until you can't walk straight for weeks."

─────── NOTE?!

First nsfw shit on the blog. Kill me please. It's short. Practically a drabble.

─────── INVITATIONS?!

@primordixl

#• . breve · short fics! #• . r. hill #• . the villainess is a marionette · works! #the villainess is a marionette x reader #the villainess is a marionette #the villainess is a marionette smut #manhwa smut #nsft #tw: smut #rezef hill x reader #rezef x reader #rezef hill #historic manhwa x reader #manhwa x you #manhwa x reader #historical manhwa #historical manhwa smut

[waskatoshi]

Thinking about BestFriend!Matsukawa, who enjoys making you nervous.

The man simply loved touching you whenever you were distracted, he loved to make stupidly flirtatious remarks, play with your hair, your lips...

Matsukawa loved doing that.

Stroke your cheeks and putting his fingers into your mouth was just so fun. The little "Mattsun!" and "Too much!" you let out would go straight to his cock. Ah, your pretty eyes would became teary if he applied too much pressure too. Your hands would try to grab his own, fighting and laughing.

That was Issei's favorite view.

At night, he fantasized with your pretty face in between his legs, trying to take his cock between your mouth, but shamefully failing in the attempt.

But don't worry! Matsukawa wouldn't judge you! He would laugh, yes, but he would try to cheer you up.

— Too dumb to even take cock, uh? Didn't your boyfriend teach you how to?

And that's when his fantasy would ended up mixing with the crushing reality. Because yes, you did have a boyfriend, and a loving one too.

Issei hated the idea of you being with another man.

You were supposed to be his. His pretty girlfriend, his pretty doll. Just his.

But atleast the dislike went both ways.

Your precious boyfriend would intentionally make out with you in front of Matsukawa, trying to rile him up, and succeeding.

Every time your boyfriend putted in words his discontent about your disgusting best friend behavior, you only dismissed it, saying something along the lines of "Its just the way he is! He is like this with everyone!"

But no. It wasn't like that. And you knowed that.

Why would you even lie to yourself like that?

The relationship was... strange. To say the least.

The intimate touches, the sweet words in your ear, even the flirtatious photos he sent you.

Something was inherently wrong. You didn't want to cheat. It was horrible behavior. But no matter how much you tried to hide it, in your loneliest nights, when your boyfriend wasn't around, your body would yearn for the touch of one man, and one man only.

And he knew that.

#just busted a nut™ #haikyuu smut #hq smut #smut #tw: smut #matsukawa smut #matsukawa x reader

[buzzkillers]

WHITE HOUSE DOWN

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Black!Reader

Summary: You and Hobie fuck after he kills the President of the United States: Norman Osborne.

Tags|Warnings: Happy 4th of July (sarcastic), public oral sex, cum facials, enemies to enemies that fuck, exhibitionism, bratty reader, graphic violence, bad British slang, UNEDITED

WC:4k

In under an hour Fascism, Capitalism and President Norman Osborne died in the same way: pathetically and in a roaring beat of gunfire and raging anarchy.

It was so punk metal that Hobie reckoned he could've cried. 

Maybe even let out a blood curdling scream before he joined his mates in celebration; in a fight that continued to roar beyond the thick walls of this stupid building. Of the world's now fallen symbol of false freedom, colonization and white supremacy.

All of it was dead now anyway, all of it was gone. So yeah Hobie reckoned he should’ve cried; maybe he even was crying but he was too pent up on adrenaline and rock and roll to notice. Who fucking knew. Who fucking cared? 

What mattered was that Osborne’s head was detached, that his guitar was covered in guts and brain and enough idiocratic bullshit that it had clattered to the floor. 

His weapon stained against the fancy White House carpet. He didn’t mind though, it added to the decor. You didn’t seem to give a shit either. For you, blood still stained your locs and your lips stayed wrapped around his cock.

And well Hobie didn't follow rules. They were barely a suggestion in his radar. Yet apart of him knew this was off kilter, even for him. Even for Spider Punk. 

Spider Punk, the not-hero and the now killer who instead of killing capitalist and fighting corporate drones was here. Here with black nails that dug into your back and wicks that kissed the skin of your cheek. 

It felt good. 

This reward, you told him as you guided him towards the pigs desk. Your hands already at the buckle of his jeans before you looked up at him; eyes hazy and murderously dark. 

It reminded him of foggy London nights, of polluted air and days where he gasped for his inhaler. Something that tried to be something else. It made Hobe feel triumphant, out of breath.

And yet this was ‘His reward.’ You growled again as if this was normal and you weren't you but something different, something new.

At that, Hobie couldn’t help but laugh. It was a pretty comedy after all, a neat joke as your palm— shaking and slick with sweat wrapped itself around his cock and your knees dug into the floor. The blood stained floor. 

He inhaled sharply, either from the adrenaline or the genuine need to breathe before his smile slipped into something wide, dangerous. You shot a glare at him. 

"Something funny?" You mouthed, as if your eyes weren't muggy, as if there wasn't a revolution going on a wall away. Hobie of course simply looked down at you, his own eyes liquid dark, but alight with adrenaline and fire and everything that made a corporate pig like Osborne underestimate him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he rolled his hips up.

"Everything's a bit funny right now, love" 

Below him, you only scoffed as if what he said wasn’t sick given the circumstances. 

As if this was simply another one of those nights; those long nights where this would be your signal to leave. To keep your distance from Hobie Brown, the Spider Punk with too much venom on his tongue and righteous anger in his every word. But you didn’t, you simply looked at him, calculative, nervous. 

Around them, the war raged on and the sounds of corporate drones getting their ass beat made the floors vibrate. None of them aware of their leader's demise before his team crushed them into dust. Below him you sighed, that gleam still in your eyes. (murky puddles and polluted skylines.)

"Of course you'd make this hard," 

"Can't just let me suck you off and shut up huh, SP?" You muttered, and you see Hobie would respond. There was always an excuse to be barked, a word to be said. But music still thrummed through his veins, the air was singing (screaming) and you were here. 

Not with Osborne. Not in a lab, cooped up but here. 

He smiled. "I'm not known for consistency," 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you rolled your eyes, "I've heard the speech,” 

"can't be consistent, can't be bought, can't shut up,"

Shut up?

He licked his lips and tasted the metal, the blood. 'Im gettin’ tired of your mouth, boy.’ Osborne had sneered before Hobie broke his face in.

Yeah, he didn't listen to him either. He shrugged his shoulders. "Nah, I don't think so,"

You rolled your eyes. “Spider-”

“Aw, am I ruining your fantasy love?" You cut him a look.

“Catchin me off guard like this, you must’ve planned it, no?”

Your grimace deepened. Which was cute. Very cute. “So you’re just gonna keep talking?” 

“—I mean I'm not against you knowin' your onions and all that, but between you being stuck in your lab and arguing with us who knew you had the time,” he whispered, before your eyes went sharp and your nails dug into his thighs. A warning, that only made his cock hard and his hands crack the lip of the desk. Cute. He thought again.  

So bloody cute that he blinked and his heart raced like a drum, like a rip of his pick against his guitar. 

‘Lay on your back’ you said, ‘drop the guitar.’ and he did.

You had demanded it with a trained nonchalance. Completely unbothered as if he didn't hear the way your lungs sharply inhaled when his guitar separated Osborne's head from his spine. Cartilage, tendons and a thick spinal cord crushed into dust beneath his rebellion before you pounced on him.

You gave him that same look now and it was wicked hot. He couldn't deny it. A fun mix of cheekiness and nerves before you cocked your head and, “You know what, fine,”

In a blink, his back was shoved harder against the desk. His hands twisted into your locs, while your mouth wet, hot and slick like honey, like blood enveloped him, turned him inside out and made him want to curl over and actually cry. 

Not cause it felt good or spectacular or amazing but because it was you. Only cause it was you.

Below him you sucked him off like you had something to prove. Like it was a challenge. It would be a crime to look away. To not match rebellion with rebellion, your hatred with his faux indifference while your lips remained dry, your handwork sloppy and your rhythm off. It was honestly the worst blowjob he’s ever had. 

But you were enthusiastic and you looked up at him as if you expected more. Like Hobie was supposed to fall to his knees and thank you. Of course, a flicker of frustration came out when he gave you the opposite: a slick smile and his eyes wide in wonder.

"Leave it to you too give someone an angry blow job," He cocked his head, "Reckon you’re overthinkin’ it, love?” 

You choked in response. Your mouth off his cock and looking as if you were about to spit on the floor before you paused and Hobie watched you swallow instead. Something hot shot in his core.

“Never,” you sneered as if this was just another part of the battle, your own personal fight.  

Hobie just snickered, a gleam in his eyes even as you went still, embarrassment hot on your face. 

“Yeah that's what I guessed," he whispered, before gloved hands gripped your jaw. Tight and restrictive.

“Quick tip? You’re too rough with it love, let me guess didn’t watch enough videos?”  he teased, before he realized where exactly his dick was.

You gave him a sharp smile, "want to repeat that?" No, not particularly. He rolled his shoulders.

“Slow down,” 

“Where's the rush,” he teased before there was a thump and a scream and oh, he guess they've found the bloke's head. Took them long enough. 

If Hobie remembered how hard he kicked it correctly; The fuckers skull was three rooms away with thick walls and flimsy doors in each of them.

His smile turned giddy, "We all the time in the world," 

"Please tell me you're joking," and there it was again, that look.  That need for order and propriety. Hobie patted your cheek.

"What, getting nervous?" Your eyes shot to the door. To the distant footsteps that only got closer to the currently unlocked room. 

"Hobie,"

"Fine," he shot the hinges up with webbing. It wouldn't last. But you didn't need to know that.

"See? Good,"

Quickly, your shoulders relaxed; your nape warm beneath his hand, prickled and covered in sweat till he gripped it harder, guiding you down until your mouth was on him again. He shuddered. 

“Make it wet,” you looked confused, your eyebrows twitching before your mouth went agape and he felt it. 

Something hot and sticky that dripped down his cock. Your lips were now sheen, a messy mix of precum, sweat and everything that would never normally be in a pretty mouth like that. 

Of course, you still managed to glare at him. And yeah nah, he wasn't gonna think about why that made his mouth dry before he angled his hips up and up until the tip of him was at the rim of your lips; he took a deep breath. 

“Grip the desk for me,” 

You frowned again, harder if that was possible. And Hobie couldn't have that. 

"Wh--" in a blink he's already bullied his thumb passed plush lips and sharp teeth. Expertly, rubbing his painted nails against the soft flesh of your cheek until drool and spit slicked down his wrist and, 

"That's wicked," he whispered.

"You’re so fucking pretty like this," You shot him a look. Your eyes still shakingly looking towards the door. The soldiers have gotten louder, they've must've bursted pass the first room. But Hobie only sighed, unbothered

“Is this why you've been so nice to me lately? Been wanting to give me this," he rambled, his eyes back on yours before his smile melted into a smirk. The last thing Osborne ever saw, before his head rolled down the stairs. 

Now, the funny thing about trying to tell a punk what to do was that you shouldn't actually expect them to listen. Osborne learned that the hard way. But you weren’t like the rest of them. No matter what the team said about you turning your back on your upbringing for the cause. You weren’t like them. Clean and simple. 

It was written in the cracks of your face, in the corners of your eyes. That want for order that battled with the need to rebel and make things right. 

 It's probably why you continued to look at him like that; your eyes slitted, red and angry.

You hated it but you wanted it too. Which meant that it took no effort to grip your jaw, keeping it still as you moved to chop your teeth onto his thumb. Light work. 

But it was another thing to dodge the whistle of your studded fist and the gleam of spikes on your knuckles before they're webbed to the dead Pigs desk. You were smart not to try again. Still your face stayed twisted in anger. 

 Hobie couldn't help but laugh again, all sharp teeth and youthful indignation in his voice. 

“I'm not good with mixed signals love, you hate me, you don't, you want to give me a reward about a job well done and then whine about it,” 

“This is still a reward right?” he whispered, his voice deep and molten. It dragged you into a spell, made you nod.  “Good,”

"Now, why don't we start stickin’ to our words, yeah," you made no room to reply, just continued to look up at him with that fire in your eyes that reminded him of madness, of a man whose body could be found in various parts of this makeshift castle. For the first time, Hobies face went stern, his body hands suddenly on your nape gripping tight. 

"Yeah?" He repeated. 

That madness in your eyes only take a moment to flicker, a moment to wick and out before your face twisted again, "Yeah," 

"There we go," 

You made no room to stop him. As his prodded his cock against your lips again, against that slick heat, hellfire, glory, his reward that was found in the tightens of your throat. "Good," 

He gripped the back of your neck tighter. “There we go,” 

“Breathe through your nose,” Then you squeezed your eyes shut, prepared to choke, for Hobie to bruise your throat, for your jaw to ache while he used you like you prepared to use him. 

Then he hummed, like a thrum of his guitar, like the flutter of a hummingbird. It was your only warning before he brought you down, slow, sluggish. He made you feel the weight of him, the way it pressed against your tongue, expanded your throat. 

You couldn’t help it really, the way your eyes closed. The hazy sensation that made your vision blur. Hobie fucked your throat as if he had all the time in the world. As if a world leader wasn’t rotting in the next room. 

And this would be a great time to joke. For Hobie to make you regret bringing him here and not give the secrets to ruining him but nah, this was better. This was more satisfying. Worth the shock in your eyes as you tried to keep them open. Your cunt not so subtly grinding against his boot. 

“Don't look so surprised love” 

“Let me guess, you expected me to go hard?” he whispered, voice ragged.

“Wanted me to bruise your pretty throat?” He dragged himself out again. Withdrew his hips, until your lips were once again at the tip of him. A thick residue of spit left behind.

Good.

Perfect even.

But below him you struggled to remain composed. Your mind was a fog that thickened, and your ears roared with the music that was Hobie Brown. The sounds of his shockwaves still in the air. On a better day, you'd remain aloof. You'd look at hobie with bored eyes and tell him to do his worse.

Clearly, that day wasn't today.

Your eyes were still closed after all, and the taste of him still stained your throat. You wanted more. You wanted-

His hand tightened on your neck. 

“Now when did I say you could do that?”  You blinked up, teary eyed with more of Hobie’s cock in your mouth than he previously allowed.

Suddenly, your cheeks burned and Hobie watched embarrassment wash over you. Watched you drown in it, in an attempt to cover up the desperate move before you just sat there, unable to go forward, unable to move back.  “Cute,” 

And then he jerked forward, cock hitting your throat until tears brimmed in your eyes and well Hobie was only a man at the end of the day. He unwebbed you, “Use your hands wrap them around me,” 

Quickly, you complied. “Yeah love like that,"

You didn’t need further instruction. You continued the slow tempo he set. And for a moment, it stayed like that: you swallowing him with a sloppy mouth and tears in your eyes, your hands now slick with well, everything. Snot, spit and tears. 

He laughed again, a bit more choked up and bit more delirious as your tongue dragged against the undervein of his cock. Sharp pleasure blinded him, he felt like it was too much, not enough. Like his heart was gonna burst from the adrenaline, the heat. 

For a moment, he craved something on his lips too. Something just as hot and slick and you. He reckoned you'd like that. Want to shut him up with your thighs locked around his head and your cunt slick on his studded tongue. If you were gonna do this, you might as well do it right, do it in the worst way possible while Osborne's corpse rotted in the next room. 

Below him, you gripped him tighter. Suckled your lips at the head of him until he shuddered and groaned. His palms slicked in blood gripping right at your face. If he knew this would be the reaction to winning the war— he'd bring Osborne back to life himself. 

Let you watch him kill him again, again and again if it meant you looked at him like that. Like a drunkard, like the feeling he got when he strummed his guitar just right, just perfectly against his pick. Until you were like this: your lips, tight and harsh. Sucking him off as if it was another fight, your eyes red hot with anger and tears.

He was close.

He couldn’t even be embarrassed, if they knew what a pretty picture you made no regular bloke  would be either before he felt it. That liquid hot build up; like something molten that grew and morphed and dripped in his belly before his thighs trembled, his fist cracked the desk and you looked marvelous. 

He tried to draw away, cause he was proper and raised right but he couldn't get far. Not against someone who looked like they wanted to prove something. You started this for a reason after all. So of course, your hands pressed into his hips, kept him still. Fucking brat.

Before the room became an echo chamber of gasps and whines and— he lurched forward, hands on your shoulders, a sharp cry of your name. 

 The orgasm was just as violent as the murder. It ripped through him and rearranged his insides until it felt painful, overwhelming. Like he was stuck in his own shockwave, pulled at the seams, the points of musical notes at his ears. 

Then he whimpered, sharp and inaudible. But it made your eyes glitter all the same before you pulled off him with a satisfying grin as the violence in him transcended to a soft shudder. 

Both of you didn't talk for a minute. Just let everything settle. Until slowly the world trickled back in and Hobie watched half amused and half delirious as across your face, emotions flickered too fast for him to dissect. 

What he did know was that you were looking at him, at the floor and then randomly at the door. Oh yeah, the goons. He should focus on that, but you were still on your knees, looking pretty and fucked out and well Hobie couldn't help it. He suddenly had the taste for something sweet.

"Up, c’mon" 

You looked at him, leg kneeled. "Fuck you,” you coughed, throat dry. “Where do you think I was doing?"

He shook his head, and with little effort, he towered over you. You looked up at him, eyes wide, lips plush and the corner of your mouth twinkling with beads of white and shit, shit. Hobie did not wait for you to get up. 

In a blur of red white and blue, the two of you switched places. It was like carrying a stack of paper, a bag of groceries before you plopped into the desk; your eyes wide, legs spread and cunt wet through your trousers.

 "Hobie come on—"  

His thumb dug into the seam of your jeans, ripped them in two until you were cunt hit cold air. You dripped on the desk. "Don't be selfish,”

“I thought this was a reward,” And then hobie’s tongue was on you, desperate and hot. 

Studded fingers pressed into your hips, digging,digging and  "Hobie, what-”  Hobie pressed you further into the desk. 

His tongue was slick and sticky against your folds. The pleasure that was white and hot grinded you to a halt. Your brain morphed into mush. You weren't going to last. This, you can admit with a certainty as your thighs wrapped around hobie’s head anyway. 

You looked towards the door, but Hobie with his freakishly long arms gripped your jaw and forced your eyes back on him. Pay attention, they said. Until your eyes went wide, frantic; and your hips fought the battle of jerking away from Hobie and against him while he flicked your clit; his finger prodding against your entrance. 

It's almost embarrassing how fast you came.

Even worse how you tried to hide it. With teeth the bit into your wrist, and moans that you tried to choke down while your hips moved on him with a grind that only made it worst, made it last.

You grunted and swore, the flat palms of your hand slammed into the desk. Once twice and then Hobie got up, looked at you splayed out on Osbornes desk, jeans pooled to your knees, the hairs of your cunt glistening. 

"Good?”

With a gasp, you could only focus on the sound of the door as the screams of soldiers bulged against the doors frames. 

Your blood was pulsing but you couldn’t feel your throat. Couldn’t feel the scratches and bruises that later you won't be able to tell was from Hobie or from the fight. 

The wooden door bent beneath the weight of the army. Before eventually it popped and you threw the spider a smile. 

“Good,”

#hobie brown smut #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black!reader #atsv x reader #atsv x black reader #atsv smut #hobie brown lemon #tw: smut #hobie brown imagine #spiderpunk smut #spider punk x reader #spiderpunk x y/n #spiderpunk x reader #spiderpunk x you

[arminsumi]

Can we please please please have more of bad boy Geto?? Sfw or nsfw as per your wishh

🔞 MDNI/18+

★ BAD BOY!

★ Pt. 1

★ Pairings : Geto Suguru / fem!reader

★ Synopsis : your boyfriend is a bad boy that your parents disapprove of 😈🏍️🖤

★ Warnings : 🔞 MDNI/18+, smut, cunnilingus, creampies, condoms/taking off condoms (consensual), riding his motorcycle 🥵, names (princess/baby/sl*t), some cervix rubbing/big d*ck Geto, toys (G-spot vibe), bl*wjob, degradation, corruption kink, daddy kink, breeding kink, mentions of being drunk (fluffy), +++

★ Note : i wrote this in public and felt super giggly abt it lol

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who rumbles down your street on his bike, gloved hands resting on the handles, and stares at your house. He waits and quickly sees you trotting out the front door like a princess escaping her castle. He gives you a French kiss before saying "Hey princess. Hop on."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who has watched you ride his motorcycle — no no, not in the way you think. Panties soaked. Clit squished on the seat. Rutting back and forth. "That's a good little princess. Cum on it like it's my thigh."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who takes you to get your first body piercing. He leads you by the hand and his face is alight with a devilish grin. "I can't wait to buy you pretty piercings, baby. You're gonna look so good strutting around town wearing my diamonds."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who asks after suckling on your puffy clit for a whole hour; "Baby, I think you like me too much. You know I'm a bad influence, right?"

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who lets you sit on his lap whenever you have to treat one of his black eyes. "Hey, you know what would make me feel better, baby? If you rode my lap like you ride on my bike 😇"

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who makes it very apparent that he has a tongue piercing by rolling it over your clit and through your slit over and over. He laps up your juices after making you cum, and seductively wipes the streak of your slick off his cheek with his thumb.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who loves it when your secret kinks slip past your lips. "Did you just call me daddy?" he asks and you immediately blabber apologies, but he just silences you with a rough kiss, "I can be your daddy, baby. You just lay back and take it like a good girl, okay?"

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who grins like a devil when corrupting you with new kinks, and enjoys turning your innocent kinks into something nastier.

"You're taking me so well." he praises you in a soft voice while his cockhead rubs into your cervix, "Can't believe your pussy can take so much cock. Such a greedy little cunt..." he puts his full weight on you when he nears orgasm, trapping you with his sweaty, muscular body. "Fuck, your slutty little hole is gonna milk me dry. You ready? Yeah I'm gonna give you my babies. Can't believe you wanna get pregnant. You just need a big cock stretching you out 'n that makes you happy, yeah? Aw, cockdrunk fuckin' slut... yeah I know you like it when I call you a slut, too. Nasty little slut. Take my cock, baby. Just take it."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who is also a tattoo artist and gives you your first tattoo. You have to hide it from your parents, and something about this fact makes Suguru smirk. He's put his mark on their precious girl — their daughter.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who gets off on the fact he's the bad boy corrupting someone's innocent daughter.

"Baby, you know I'm no good." he hums against your ear in an irresistible voice. "You shouldn't be sneaking around with me." he drops his voice lower and nibbles your ear, "You're being a bad girl."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who, when drunk with you, proclaims his love for you over and over and over.

"Fuck, babyyy I love you so much. Come here 'n gimme another kiss." and then he smothers you with kisses until you're making out on his parked motorcycle in the empty parking lot at night. "God, whenever I kiss you I feel like marrying you so bad..."

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who treats you like you're a goddess. Wiping your tears when you cry about anything, murmuring "Please don't cry, princess." and also using this line on you when you cry from pleasure about how big his cock is, or when your eyes water when deepthroating him for the first time.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who, even after being kicked out of your house many times by your dad, still climbs in through your window to fuck you in your bed.

He fills condom after condom but then he checks his wallet and oops — he ran out of condoms. "I wanna take you raw, Sugu, please!" you paw at his abdomen and wiggle your pussy back down on his sensitive cock. He hisses through his teeth, "Fuck, okay... anythin' for my princess..." and plunges his big cock into you raw.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who has been shoved out of the front door by the collar of his biker's jacket by your disapproving parents. He makes a joke of it, putting his hands up as if he's being arrested and laughing naughtily.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who promises; "I'll come back for ya, princess." and he does. He whisks you away. You give him dolly eyes and beg to run away with him.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who stuffs a hot pink G-spot vibrator in your pussy before letting you straddle his motorcycle.

He smirks while riding, knowing that you're feeling the rumbling vibrations on your pussy as well as the buzzing of the toy stuffed inside you. Oh and he just loves seeing you struggle to dismount the seat once you're parked. "Bad girl, you made the seat all wet with your pussy." he scolds playfully.

— ★ Bad boy Geto Suguru who always unzips his pants tantalizingly slowly.

His heavy cock smacks against your cheek as soon as it's freed, it's always accidentally-on-purpose. "Sorry, princess, did that hurt?" he asks sarcastically while rubbing his tip across your glossy lips. "Spit on it." he commands, and you happily spit on his cock. "That's a good girl — kitten lick it. Yeah, just like that." he groans and tenses his abs. "Now open wide."

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

#🔞.smut #geto #geto suguru #geto smut #mdni #smut #geto x reader #tw: smut #geto suguru x reader smut #geto suguru smut #jjk smut #jjk geto #suguru geto

[diejager]

Hey! I'm new here but what I've seen of your blog so far I've consumed appreciatively.

Could I please get an Alejandro Vargas x f!reader anything nsfw with a breeding schmink?? I know that man wants a soccer team.

Perhaps he'd seen the reader take care of a kid/s in his family and she's really good with them, she's always wanted her own so when something clicks with Alejandro, man is on a mission that doesn't take very much convincing on the readers part.

Thank you 🤍

Parenthood

Pairing: Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader

Cw: breeding kink, pregnancy, soft sex, creampie, service dom!Alejandro, p in v, fingering, cunnilingus, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.4k (A/N): I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t really like it and it feels a bit rushed and just bad.

His heart nearly stopped when he turned around, the sight making him choke down a breath. He’d forgotten for a second that he was in public, gracing the cleaned streets of Las Almas, the cartel driven away by the joint force of Task Force 141 and Los Vaqueros. Breath stolen away in a whisper of love and admiration, he watched you play with the children, small and precious, sitting on your haunches with the kids surrounding you in a crowd of loud chatting and adorable giggles. His knees felt weak when he caught your eyes, glancing his way with a smile gracing your lips, the warm and motherly gleam in your beautiful eyes and the way you held the small fingers of a child between your soft fingers.

“Oh, mi amor,” he sighed, feeling his cheeks flush brightly, chest filling up with warmth, a comforting and burning heat that pulsed through his body like a plague. 

He remembered that he wore the clothes of a civvy, he was but a man and a husband outside of the uniform, outside of the base, and outside of the battlefield. He moved slowly when you beckoned him towards you, hand leaving the child to wave him over, fingers curling and smile so enticing to kiss. He bowed to your whim, crouching beside you to greet the kids, smiling warmly and coaxing them forward with the promise of a piggyback ride. It made him wonder how energetic and joyous his house would be with children running around the place.

You fell back on the bed, lips swollen and cheeks flushed, your hair was a mess and your clothes ruffled, riding over your abdomen, the edge of your lacy bra peeking under your shirt. Alejandro was quick to undress you, pulling your shirt over your head and your shorts down your legs, he unclipped your bra and pulled your panties to your ankles. He sat up, admiring your nakedness, the smooth curves of your hips and the sheen of sweat coating your skin. He shrugged his clothes off, lips wrapping around your nipples once his shirt was off, teeth nipping at your collar and neck before trailing down your stomach to kiss your slick folds.

He shuddered at the taste of your pussy, tongue lapping at your clit, rolling the tip over your sensitive button. He drank up your moans as he drank up your slick, lips latching to your nub, sucking while his hands moved up your thighs, gripping the apex of it and dipping into you. With two fingers, he slipped them between your lips, teasing you while he still had the self-control to. He had to hold you down, despite your squirming and mewls being addicting, he needed you to stay still for him to make you come before he snapped.

“God, Ale-” you knocked your head back when you felt him push a finger in, pumping in and out, and curling upwards. 

He groaned, eyes rolling back at the wet squelch of his finger - fingers, now that he added another one to stretch you out - and curling them against your spongy wall, in search of your sweet g-spot. His cock rubbed against the tightness of his boxers, being confined to his pants while he serviced you in a way that any husband should with his precious wife if he wanted her happy, rutting against the bed. 

He drove in, panting as if he ran a marathon, out of breath from the excitement and control he exerted on himself. He wanted you to come first, to feel you fall over the edge, to watch your back arch and toes curl before he fucked his child into you, to fill you with his cum and love. He shifted his hand, digits pounding upwards in fast and erratic motions, rigid as he pushed on, listening to your yelp turning into whimpers and mewls mixing together as your toes curled, fingers gripping the bed sheets. 

“Come for me, mi amor,” he mumbled against your clit, his voice rumbling down to your core. “C’mon.”

He felt you jerk, your thighs closing around his head and your walls clamping down on his fingers, pulsing wildly with every loud mewls and moans. He helped you ride out your climax, pumping slowly while you panted, keeping his fingers relaxed until you calmed down. He pressed his lips to your navel, right over your womb, moving up with his little pecks, cheeky and loving. He could spend his days worshipping you with his lips, his hands and his cock, but you pulled him towards your lips, mouth moving feverishly against his, chasing the taste of your cunt on his tongue. He groaned, tongue meeting yours in a dance, rolling over yours and slipping between your teeth. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the salty tang slipping onto your tongue. His eyes closed in the moments, lost in the softness and enrapture of your being, mind zoned into your hands wandering over his neck, short nails caressing down his chest, over the curves of his sculpted abdomen and to the waistband of his briefs. 

You pulled them down, slipping your fingers under the waistband and pushing them down his strong thighs and muscled ass, his hard and angry cock bobbing and slapping his happy trail. He kicked them off, as impatient as he was to undress you, throwing his boxers somewhere behind him. He grasped your hips, ready to lay you down on your back and kiss you away, but you pushed him back, forcing him to sit on his ass as you straddled him. He let out a soft moan, your wet and warm cunt grinding down on his leaky cock, his bulbous head nudging the hood of your clit. 

“Please, corazón.”

Hands planted on his shoulders and him supporting your weight by your hips, you sank, feeling his cock stretch you open. You shared a groan, Alejandro’s cock filling you inch by inch, swallowed by your pulsing walls. You moved slowly, hips bucking as you rode him, steadily taking him deeper with every roll, rocking down until he bottomed out, sitting flush on his lap, thighs wet and body sweaty. He kissed you reverently, holding you to his chest as you shifted, legs pushing you up and down, skin slapping together in echoing squelch, wet and filthy as the words he whispered in your ear. 

He voiced his wishes of wanting to become a father, of wanting to breed your fertile womb, of wanting to see your stomach swell with life. He’d drink the milk from your swollen tits, the sweet and warm dribble of milk that would leak from your overfilled breasts. He’d hold and caress your round stomach, watching it grow with the passing months and caring for your every whim. He promised you he’d make you a mother, to care for you during your pregnancy and to watch over your little bébé, holding them in his arms, kissing them with the gentle press of his lips, and letting them grab his finger. 

Alejandro promised you the world as he bucked upwards, fucking himself into you with a delirious mind and stuttering pace. You rocked down, thighs burning with exhaustion and cramping, working to ride up and down on his throbbing cock, the crossing veins rubbing against your back wall. Your cunt pulling him in, the knot in your core tightening with a strong pulse, coaxing him closer to his end. Alejandro looked as strained as you were, breathing heavily, chest puffing up with broken groans and skin gleaming with sweat. He chased his release, lips catching yours with an open-mouthed kiss, tongue swirling around yours, sharing warm breaths. 

“Alejandro-” you swore, “I love you- I- fuck… Te amo. Te amo, Ale.”

You felt his cock jump, a sudden and strong thrust, slamming his head to your cervix had you reeling, coil in your navel snapping. Moans rolled down your tongue, body shuddering strongly as your legs buckled under you, knees falling and depending on him to ride out your high. His name and I love yours slipped from you, egging Alejandro on with every confession, especially the ones in Spanish. It doesn’t take long for him to come, your release being the catalyst for his. Cum spurted from his slit, painting your walls with his potent load and filling your womb, hips stuttering until he stilled, sitting motionless on his lap.

You both gasped, breath laboured as you leaned into him, forehead touching one another. Your eyes searched his warm, brown ones, the swirl of love in them had you swooning for the man you married. You felt full and warm, loved and taken cared of, in Alejandro’s arms with your mouth locked, sharing a moment withouting needing to voice out your emotions. 

“Do you think it’ll take?” You mumbled, pressing your head under his chin.

He hummed, his throat rumbling from the low sound.

“We’ll try again if it doesn’t.”

Tag list: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #mw2 alejandro #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #alejandro smut #mw2 smut #cod mw2 smut #x fem!reader #female!reader #fem!reader #tw: breeding #tw: smut

[boundinparchment]

In Trenodia

Long-distance marriages are difficult. But you and Wriothesley always manage to make time for one another. Female Reader/Wriothesley. Second scene is implied to occur after Act 4 of the Fontaine Archon Quest. Song for title inspiration - 'In Trenodia' by VV. CW: smut, breeding kink if you squint, oral, cunnilingus MINORS DNI. RATED EXPLICIT. On AO3 here.

After routine confirmations of invoices and goods, along with small talk from the surface, you were escorted to your husband’s office.  As you were every visit.  No one, not even the Duchess, was exempt from protocol.

By now you knew every guard’s name and face and remembered their troubles from the last time you visited.  It wasn’t easy to live in the depths, let alone work in them.  You knew the other side, what it was to be without, and you easily understood the toll separation took.  Words from you might not soothe, not entirely, but expectation danced on every face and you saw it as your duty to bring what reassurance and reprieve you could.

The guards sent word ahead of your arrival, naturally, so you did not expect to surprise Wriothesley nor be interrupted while you were there. 

Years ago, the large imposing doors frightened you. You had not expected the Duke himself to want to speak to you.  In hindsight, it made sense: you were a small vendor directly supplying him.  He had been so impressed that your honey did not taint his tea beyond recognition.  Wriothesley was instead immediately interested in how your methods varied from those used by the companies that mechanically processed the liquid as well as other beekeepers.

Moments like those left you lighter than air.  But they also managed to claw at the wound that never truly closed.  One you were used to nursing in the later hours of the night.  Distance made the heart grow fonder, of course; it also served as a chasm that would never be truly crossed.

Now was not the time for such melancholy, you reminded yourself.

As you entered Wriothesley’s office and the guard closed the doors behind you, you could make out the faintest familiar notes from the phonograph.  With a large jar of liquid gold tucked under your arm, you climbed the stairs and crested just as Wriothesley looked up from his paperwork. 

The weariness under his eyes and in the thin line of his mouth faded, barely visible as he laid eyes on you.

“You have impeccable timing, my love,” he said as you approached, lips quirking into a soft smile.  “Just when I was about to take a break.”

You rested the jar on the desk, the contents almost glowing from the way the light passed through the contents, and leaned over to meet him for a kiss.  Your heart jolted, as it always did, at the sensation of his soft lips on yours and at the scent of his shaving cream. 

Wriothesley stood and stretched for a moment, rolling his shoulder as he rounded the desk.  He picked up the jar with a single hand to examine it and held it up to the light. 

“Darker this year.  How was the yield?  Did you have any trouble harvesting?”

You shook your head. 

“Monsieur Lockwood’s Rainbow Roses were quite the feast for the hives.  The taste is mild enough but I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

He cocked an eyebrow, intrigued.  You carefully took the jar from his grasp, opened it, and dipped your finger into the honey, extracting just enough to sample.  Wriothesley’s hand, large and warm, encircles your wrist and guided your finger to his mouth.  He licked methodically, savoring every drop as his eyes closed for a moment in thought.

When he opened them again, you caught the faintest hint of hunger mingled with astonishment.

“Floral without being over-powering.  Refreshing, even.  My compliments to the hive.”

“I’ll be sure to give them your praises,” you laughed as you closed the jar and set it aside.

Wriothesley’s hands found your face, the rough pads of his fingers ghosting over your skin.  He lowered his head to brush his nose against yours, a playful smirk on his face.

“I can think of only one gift sweeter than any honey you bring me,” he whispered.

“And what would that be, Your Grace?”

“You.”

This time, the kiss you shared was deep, eager, and full of longing.  Your arms wrapped around his neck as you tasted the last remnants of honey when his tongue brushed yours and elicited a low moan from deep in his chest.  Wriothesley maneuvered you against the desk and then reached for your legs, lifting you to the surface with ease and hiking up your skirt to settle between your legs. 

Hours later, when duty could no longer be pushed aside, Wriothesley would escort you back to the passageway to the surface.

You would leave with flushed cheeks and sticky thighs, with only memories of his laugh and loving gaze to ease the ache in your heart until your next visit.

You hadn’t anticipated the possibility of another outcome. 

After all, you were married to a man sentenced to live in exile, to work in the shadows and support those sentenced to a different life than one provided on the surface.  When he told you of the circumstances, how he came to be prisoner and then warden, he wiped away your tears before they could spill and you understood that he held a love far larger than himself.

He was not a man of sentimentality, your Wriothesley; he was a man of loyalty, of action.

So, one morning when you spotted the figure walking up the path to your humble home (modest by most standards of Fontaine’s highest rankings of nobility), your heart immediately leapt into your throat and stayed there, like a stone.

Were you hallucinating?

Surely not.

You would know that hair and gait even through the beekeeping veil currently clenched in your hands.  The report of recent events arrived with your morning post and you were keen to set to work.  If you worked, you could not worry about the murmurs of Fatui presence, the recent trial with a Harbinger, nor your cook’s mumbling about the prophecy you grew up hearing.

Wriothesley was working on a solution, one that only solidified his sense of duty to the nation that gave him a second chance. 

His gray eyes skimmed over you from heel to head as he drew closer in the cresting morning light, golden rays catching the fastenings of his overcoat.  You couldn’t even get a word out of your mouth before he cupped your face and kissed you, ardently, thumbs brushing just under your eyes. 

“Wriothesley—” you gasped, his name nothing more than a rush of air when the kiss broke and you were wrapped in his arms, his presence sturdy, warm.

When you pulled away, you could see the fine lines from lack of sleep, the way worry had settled into the corners of his mouth and the hardness of his eyes.  He hid them well but he always lowered his metaphorical mask around you, just enough for the truth to peer out.

“I had to deliver a report to the Chief Justice in-person.  It didn’t make sense to come all this way only to not see you,” he said softly.  “They’ll just have to forgive me for breaking protocol to see my wife at least one more time.”

His expression softened and his gaze traced over you the way an artist’s brush touched canvas.  Wriothesley pried one hand from your hat and bringing it to your lips.  “Your Grace.”

Your face grew hot as you held his gaze and you couldn’t help but match his smile.  How long had it been since he’d been up here, on the surface, at your too-empty home?

“I was going to check on the hives and fields before breakfast.  Care to join me?”

“Nothing I’d love more.”

At this hour, the hives were quiet, as were the fields.  The sky was finally beginning to turn from inky blue to orange, gold, and pink beyond the lines of trees surrounding the property.  A new morning, full of potential, even if the colors were slightly different for him.

You weren’t sure who turned first, who initiated the slow kiss that only seemed to deepen with every passing second.  Time itself seemed to stop when you tugged slightly on Wriothesley’s tie to bring him down into the tall grass.  He complied, arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him as the soft blades beneath you gave way.

“Adventurous this morning, aren’t you, my Duchess?” Wriothesley teased above you, his knee nestled in the perfect spot between your legs.

“Mmm, more like taking advantage of the opportunity while we have it,” you replied, smiling as you reached up to kiss him.

Your body reacted to him like metal in a thunderstorm every time, instantly aware of your own needs, overwhelmed by the love that flooded your heart.  Distance was difficult for ordinary couples and the decision to continue, to marry, hadn’t been easy.

But this sensation, moments where you were the only two in the entire world.  It made all the struggles worth it. 

“Sunlight comes with you everywhere, makes you almost glow…” he whispered.

You reached for him, pushed his coat from his shoulders and made quick work of his shirt buttons, exposing his scarred chest.  In return, the stays of your dress were pulled apart, the fabric pooling at your waist and revealing your breasts, nipples hardening in the slight morning chill.

“I can’t remember the last time I smelled grass.  Smelled flowers, wild flowers not yet cut.  Nothing smells the same down there, where the sun can never reach…always smells like burnt metal.”

His mouth was hot on your skin, hungry but tempered as his teeth grazed the column of your neck and his lips found your breasts.  A jolt ran through you from heart to core as he flicked his tongue over your nipple and then sucked, just enough to elicit a gasp from you.  His free hand traced the curve of your other breast before he switched, tongue swirling gently.

Your hands found purchase in his black and gray hair, mussing it further as he worked downwards and pushed your skirts up to your waist.  He gazed up at you through his lashes as he pushed aside your panties, fingers dancing along your folds and finding you slick and swollen.

“Beautiful,” he breathed against your thighs, the words tickling your sensitive flesh.  His tongue brushed your lips and he moaned softly.  “Tastes as exquisite as it looks.”

His hand parted your folds a little further and his tongue returned to stroke you.  You arched your back as he swirled circles against your clit, a familiar sensation sitting low in your belly to stoke the throbbing ache deep inside you.  Your fingers in Wriothesley’s hair tightened as you pulled slightly in your eagerness, unsure if you wanted him to stop or push you over the edge.

“Don’t worry, Your Grace, I wouldn’t finish you so quickly,” Wriothesley teased.  “But I do want to savior you.”

True to his word, you never peaked.  But he did keep you on the precipice, eternally aware of the white-hot heat searing through your veins and your ever-growing need to be even closer to him.

Wriothesley only pulled away after pressing one finger into your wet heat and kissing your clit with a flick of his tongue.  You looked towards him, craning your neck to find your essence across his jaw and chin, glistening in the morning light.  His gaze was lost for a moment, memorizing you. 

After all, you never knew when the next time to see each other would come.  You might be able to predict and show up with a jar of honey and steal hours of his time.  Or, as you were this morning, you might be informed of events beyond almost anyone’s control.

You watched as Wriothesley freed himself from the confines of his trousers and positioned himself above you again.  He brushed himself against your wet folds, back and forth, and he groaned.

“I love that sound.  So wet for me…”

Your eyes never left his as he pressed into you, slow and steady, and buried himself to the hilt.  Deep inside, your walls were already squeezing.  Both of you let out a sound that begged the other to hold on a little longer.

You craned your neck up as Wriothesley bent down, foreheads pressed together and eyes fluttering shut as he withdrew entirely before starting with slow, deep strokes.

“Need this to last,” he whispered against your lips.  “To feel every inch of you around me.”

His composure slowly slipped away as you tilted your head and kissed him, sweet and full.  You wrapped your arms around him, hands finding his shoulder muscles.  One of your feet, devoid of its shoe, rested at the top of his thigh; just before he could pull out entirely again, you pushed him deeper inside of you. 

“I want to feel you even when you’re gone,” you murmured.  “So I have something to tell me this wasn’t just a dream.”

More words sprung to your mind but they were washed away by the fire building within you.  Wriostheley grunted as your walls squeezed slightly, begging him for more.  You caught a mischievous glint in your husband’s eyes when he pulled back slightly and reached for your foot.  He gently folded your leg and pressed it against you, giving him a better angle.

“I have a better idea.”  He wriggled slightly and you gasped as he twitched deep inside you at the perfect spot.  “I’ll come right here…fill you up over and over…”

He sped up his pace, your breathing ragged as your scents mingled with the grass and wildflowers.  The coil deep in your belly tightened and you felt everything else fall away as your toes curled and white-hot heat threatened your entire existence.

“Wriothesley—"

Light exploded across your vision as you shuddered and convulsed around him, underneath him.  It was too much and not enough all at once, your hips bucking as Wriothesley helped you ride out the aftershocks.  He twitched again, burying his face in your neck as he released inside you.

He pulled away only enough to push your hair out of your face and grin down at you, eyes bright.  His face was flushed and his hair absolutely ruined but backlit by the morning sun, he looked almost otherworldly. 

“I’d like that,” he said softly.  “To see you carry my child.  Our child.”

You wriggled your hips again, your bodies still coupled.  Wriothesley hissed and shifted his weight slightly to keep you from moving.  He was just as sensitive as you were and you couldn’t help but grin up at him.

“If you keep that up, we’ll be here all morning, Your Grace.”

“Good.”

#wriothesley #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x female reader #female reader #fem reader #wriothesley x you #in which wriothesley is your husband and you share a morning together #reader has slight personality but not much #smut #minors dni #tw: smut #tw: breeding

[comatosebunny09]

personal headcanons | leon k.

genre(s): humor, romance, erotica, modern au warning(s): female reader in mind, language, age gap, self indulgent, fingering, oral, p in v, voice kink, mentions of choking, bodily fluids, dirty talk, pet names, mostly me being a horny spazz for this man, not proofread now playing: funny how time flies - janet jackson

‣ most of your jokes consist of poking fun at your age difference.

‣ seriously. gen x vs. gen y is strong with this one.

‣ prime example: you give him shit about his car still having a cassette player.

‣ “get with the times, grandpa.”

‣ “fuck off. it’s retro.”

‣ “you’re retro, old man.”

‣ thinks the fact you still watch cartoons is endearing.

‣ but, “what the fuck is adventure time?”

‣ will “back in my day” you until you roll your eyes and scoff, shutting him up with a kiss.

‣ has your back despite how often you call him old.

‣ like you’re not getting up there yourself—your aching back and knees!

‣ goes out of his way to bring you little trinkets and snacks when he goes on missions in other countries.

‣ it eats him up that he can’t divulge the secrets of his profession.

‣ never wants to hide anything from you; you make him want to give you the world.

‣ but he knows he has to keep some secrets to protect you.

‣ you love him nonetheless.

‣ tug on his little heartstrings when you fall asleep on the phone with him.

‣ or when he catches you between sleep and consciousness on the couch when he’s had another late night around the office.

‣ secretly loves whisking you off to bed like some knight in shining armor.

‣ ridiculously gentle despite his imposing figure and calloused hands.

‣ sometimes riddled with those intrusive thoughts of choking you because he knows he could crush you with how small you are compared to him.

‣ not like you’d complain—sometimes, you ask him to lose a little control.

‣ and that scares him shitless because, who made you like this?

‣ despite how badly he wants to show you how much he’s missed you, he lets you sleep.

‣ holds you tight while you sink below the depths of unconsciousness.

‣ because sometimes, letting you go feels like you’ll disappear in a plume of smoke.

‣ but when you awaken before the sun…

‣ oh, it’s on.

‣ because you think you’re so slick, rutting your little ass against him in the wee hours of the morning.

‣ challenge: accepted.

‣ knows what his voice does to you. how the low rumble of it makes you clench and stutter.

‣ and when you rub your thighs together to ward off that fuzzy rush of endorphins between them…

‣ fuck.

‣ “did somebody miss me?” he croons, his stubble coarse in the junction of your shoulder as he litters your neck with kisses and holds your chin in his massive hand.

‣ loves to tease you into submission.

‣ will touch and suckle everywhere except where you want him the most.

‣ and he will do this for hours until you growl for him to “stop being a little shit.”

‣ “thought you were sleepin’, baby.”

‣ plays with your pretty nipples until they’re pebbled and straining against your clothes.

‣ flitters his tongue over them, groaning because you taste and feel so goddamn good.

‣ spreads you open like a flower with long, languid strokes of his fingers.

‣ and the sticky glide of your cunt against his fingertips makes his dick jump.

‣ “makin’ a mess for me already, love? so fuckin’ cute, aren’t you?”

‣ alternates between circling your clit and testing the barrier of your sticky, slutty little pussy hole depending on how your body responds to him.

‣ because when you undulate your hips against him in response, he soaks his joggers with pre-spend.

‣ will make you cum at least thrice on his hand.

‣ and will keep fucking you through your orgasms because, who told you to feel this good?

‣ until you beg him for something more filling.

‣ can give you a solid two rounds in pound-town.

‣ he’s not as young as he used to be, god dammit. cut ‘em some slack.

‣ apologetic if he cums before you, though he makes it his mission to ensure you get yours first.

‣ but will finish you off with his mouth if you so please.

‣ eating you out is his favorite pastime. he gets hard all over again just from being between your legs.

‣ will twine your fingers together and maintain some semblance of eye contact while he unravels you with his mouth.

‣ and will groan into your cunt to let you know how appreciative he is for the meal.

‣ vocal af.

‣ will continue until your thighs clamp down on his face, signaling him to “s-stop. to-too much.”

‣ god forbid he’s in a teasing mood because you’ll have to punch him to get him to stop.

‣ but, you’re irresistible when you beg, and—

‣ fuck. he’s suddenly up for round 3.

‣ aftercare is immaculate.✨

‣ has a hard time keeping up with your energy sometimes.

‣ but will definitely heft you up with one hand as he walks you into the house to kiss you stupid against the wall of your entryway.

‣ will definitely dance on the table with you in his underwear.

‣ and indulges you in your childish requests—pillow fort? he’s down.

‣ content with just existing in your presence.

‣ you’re his vice; his kryptonite.

‣ and he’s hopelessly romantic for you.

‣ because you have him doing all the cliche shit. kissing in the rain. swinging hands on the beach, walking into the sunset. sporadically showing up at your job with flowers and takeout.

‣ grabbing your ass in public to let everyone know that yes, this old man’s hittin’ that.

‣ he’s head over heels for you.

‣ and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

‣ because you make him feel something he thought himself dead to for years.

#leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x fem reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil fic #self indulgent #tw: smut #tw: language #cw: bodily fluids #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #leon s kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy headcanons #leon headcanons