#-finger removing ritual | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rafeysdoll · 9 days

Note

Aaaaa i love your writing sm !!! 🫶🏻

Anyways please do one where bf!rafe gets home after a hard ass day at work and eats sub!reader out like a man STARVED

thank you so much for your patience! it means so much to me. inspired also by @/princessbrunette and her prompt here. please reblog with feedback if you enjoyed!

you were well aware that he was stressed, it was impossible for you not to, ever his dotting and caring girlfriend. you wanted to relieve his mind, take him away from whatever it was that stressed him.

you devoted the better part of your afternoon to pampering yourself – starting on with a session at your vanity, layering on makeup after makeup product, secretly hoping it would all end up smudged on rafe’s sheets and pillows as you line your lips with your favorite lip combo, smiling to yourself.

after completing your makeup routine, you quickly continue on with your getting-ready ritual, slipping into a barely there sultry lingerie set that hugged your curves perfectly, the transparent and mesh material revealing almost everything.

you drape over a light pink satin robe, disguising the garment and making sure to only loosely tie the strings at the front. you wanted to shed the apparel as quickly as possible for both you and rafe's sake anyway.

౨ৎ

“welcome home papi.” you purr, a small mischievous smile pulled on your glossy lips. you wrap your arms around his neck as you pull him in, lips meeting each other. “mm, missed you,” you mumble against his lips before pulling away slightly, leaving your palms on his shoulders to softly dig your hands in — lightly massaging at the tension.

“you’re really.. strained,” you state, taking in a small sigh. “yeah? real fucking stressed. been uh, doing a lot of business and shit lately, y’know that. and i missed you too doll,” he prompts before pressing a chaste kiss above your eyebrow. “you look real fucking pretty.”

"mhmm.. thank youu," you drawl, biting your lip lightly to stifle back a small giggle. “buttt,” you pause, breaking eye contact momentarily “you haven't even seen the best part yet, rafey.” you continue, fluttering your wispy lashes coyly.

“the best part?” he questions, his large hands trailing down your body to settle on your waist, squeezing you lightly. “yeah, there's even more.” you seal, manicured hands now tugging at the strings of your get up open, removing your robe slowly to build anticipation, your small little hidden surprise coming out to play.

your robe lays bunched up by your feet — no longer masking away your pushed up and plump tits that are practically being squeezed of all life by your lacy bra, greedily covering your hard nipples.

to make all matters worse, you lay your hands on his own — guiding them up to your boobs and massaging them. “you like what you see?” you tease.

rafe chuckles, eyes staring daggers. “do- do i like what i see, don’t- don’t even.. that’s a ridiculous fucking question.” he scoffs, palms groping at your pair.

in almost no time, you both end up tumbling and rolling on your shared bed, rafe leaving sloppy wet kisses on every part of your spread thighs as he kneels on the floor in front of your laying body. “didn’t even notice this baby,” he says, fiddling with the small bow on your bottoms for a few seconds before drooping his finger down at your clothed nub, rubbing at it softly.

“gonna make you feel real good,” he hums — pressing a kiss against your covered cunt, arousal sticking to your flimsy panties. “papi,” you mewl lowly, spreading your legs wider instinctively with a small little wiggle in your hips.. desperation clouding you.

the oldest cameron smirks, pulling down the delicately sheer fabric down your legs, glistening pussy now bare and exposed. “such a pretty thing.”

a quiet and small whimper passes by your lips, heart pulse loud and increasing in your chest. “please, c’mon.” you plead, frantic to get a move on.

you earn a light slap against your mound as well as a tsk sound from rafe, hips twitching at the sensation. “greedy girl,” he scoffs before burying his head in your heat, tongue laying flat as he licks a broad stripe.

you mewl, hips bucking up against his face as his nose pushes against your clit, tongue licking at your pulsing hole. “taste so sweet,” he mumbles through your folds, the low vibrations of his voice crawling up your spine. “fuck,” you murmur, shiny lips separated as you sigh — fat tears bordering around your lashline, ever the sensitive girl.

he sucks at your bundle of nerves, the lewd and obscene noises of his slurping that pass in your ears causing you to whine in shame almost, sock-clad toes curling in ecstasy. every dirty and gross thing your boyfriend comments is practically unheard, in one hooped ear out the other — fuzzy brain too lost up in fogginess.

you struggle to keep your eyes open, fingers pawing at your sheets — gripping them tightly in a ball. as he continues to suck and lick your clit.

patiently, rafe plunges two of his long fingers in your soaked hole, a shit eating smirk playing on his lips when you squeak, whimpering. “oh- oh fuck.. so good, so good.” you blubber, masacra running down the sides of your sweaty face.

you squirm, your legs twitching as you struggle to catch up with your breath — deep and skilled fingers massaging your squishy walls in addition to his sucking. “papi-i-i,” you break, bottom lip wobbling as your jaw drops, slacked open.

it was too much, your contracting walls squeezing his digits like a vice and your clit throbbing. you couldn’t help but squeeze your legs around his head, slowly lifting your hips. “t-too much, can’t take it.” you weep, hissing slightly.

your body burns, sweat collecting at your forehead. “nah, quit that shit.” rafe tips off, ringed hand slapping against the side of your thigh, spreading you open once more. “come on, just give it to me.” he groans, muffled between your cunt.

for rafe, when he was burdened with all his shit and troubles — there was nothing more he loved more than drowning himself in your slick, tongue lapping up all your wetness.

you wail and whine, crying for more and yet twitching already of how it’s too much — rafe’s dick jumping in his own confines at your mushiness.

it took almost no time for you to drool out your sticky cum all over his face, white hot pleasure striking all over your body and up your spine — squealing as your legs spasm, gasping for air when your juices coat all over his fingers, hole fluttering.

there’s nothing better than a sweet treat when you’re stressed.

taglist: @oceandriveab @imbabycowboy @sowrkitty @carolinaxvz @rafecameroninterlude @pinkribboncoco @kevsfuckingbox @hewwokitti @justagirlinherownworld @sugardonutzz @rafeysbby @prettyg1irlstears @ariahna @sugarcandydoll @rafesgiirl

1K notes · View notes

kissitbttr · 5 months

Note

omgomgomg… a lil quickie w frat!miguel before his big game me thinks 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

“do you think they have fries stall back in the booth? i want their seaweed one”

“my dick is literally inside you muñeca, and you’re talking about fries?!”

he has you pressed down against the locker room’s bench, where his teammates had already gone. snuck you in the moment he checked that the locker’s empty,

in which you were against at first, because it’s smelly and being in the boy’s locker room is disgusting. you told him that before. suggested to do it in the teacher’s lounge or library like you both always do it, where everyone is off to the game. but he couldn’t wait that long.

it has been pretty much a ritual for him and you to fuck before the game. something about being a good luck charm when he fucks you. especially when you look as good in your cheerleading uniform. that short skirt and skin tight top makes him go crazy. you can’t blame him.

“well i’m hungry! i only had that half of burger gloria shared with me and it wasn’t enough!” you protest with a huff, sliding your hands to his biceps,

he rolls his eyes, fingers running through his lightly dampen hair, stealing a kiss from you to get you to be quiet.

“i’ll get you everything they have there, muñeca, yeah? but now? i need you to shut up for a moment”

he hooks his arms underneath the back of your knees, circling them around his waist as he plunges deeper into you making you gasp at the sudden stretch, toes curling at the sensation

miguel smiles at your reaction, hoisting your skirt up just a bit more. “mierda.. you look absolutely beautiful, baby” he grunts, thrusting his cock a little bit faster,

you dig your finger tips into the skin of his arms as he fucks you, back arched deliciously as he watches your tits bounce inside the material of your top,

“oh fuck, miggy” your whine comes off high pitched, needy. one that he has find himself obsessed with. “d-don’t stop, baby—fuck, that feels so good”

hearing that makes him growl, resting his forearm above your head to help him press down his weight on you just a little bit. your jaw goes slack, eyes lulling to the back of your head and nothing miguel appreciates more than the sight before him,

“gonna come, sweetheart? hm?” his hand moves to your jaw, getting you to look at him. his thrusts going even more brutal and deeper making you whimper

“gonna coat my cock, aren’t you? be my good girl”

nodding fast, you bite down your lower lip. big wide eyes looking into him and he swears he’s not going to make it too. not when you look at him like that,

“y-yes! yes miggy, please let me cum!”

soon enough, you both reach your high. soft moans and loud groans escaped your mouths,

miguel stays in you for a while to catch his breath, forehead resting against your collarbone before chuckling. he presses a soft kiss on the soft skin before pulling out,

he watches you trying to regain your composure, breathing heavily with your arm above your head,

“earth to muñeca? you good?l” he heavy pants with a joke, patting your thigh,

your eyes snap open to look at him, giving him a small yet satisfied smile. “i’m good.”

he helps you get up slowly after that, not before pulling the condom off him and throwing it in the trash,

“miguel!” you slap his arm. “people will see that! throw it outside!”

“no one is going to! the janitor maybe. and i’m sure he had his fair shares of seeing used condoms” he shrugs, wiping his hands off the varsity

you brush it off before pulling your panties up and skirt down, fixing up the ponytail after. you eye yourself through the small mirror attached on the wall, removing any smudged mascara and lipstick,

“do i smell like sex? i feel like i smell like sex. ugh, i smell like you!”

he quirks an eyebrow. “and what is wrong about that?”

“nothing! i like smelling like you. but they will—“

“know that i fucked the shit out of you and that you’re my girl? yes” he leaves a soft kiss on your cheek,

you smile at that, looking over your shoulder before pointing your finger at his neck,

“also you have a hickey”

he widens his eyes. “what?! FUCK!”

#miguel o’hara #frat!miguel

2K notes · View notes

cryptotheism · 1 year

Text

She awoke to a boxcar full of corpses,

which was damn lucky, because it meant she now had a one-way train ticket to exactly where she wanted to go. All that was left to do was pass the time.

The student took inventory of her body. It was the first thing she knew to do in case of catastrophic injury, but the ritual of it was almost meditative now. Start at the bottom, work your way up.

Feet: Sore from walking. The leathery sheathe of mutagenic skin that ran up to her shins was largely unfeeling scar tissue at this point. They looked and functioned like a pair of high-topped hiking boots, except permanent and a part of her body. They were a rough custom job, designed for traversing the pools of acid that dotted the necrotic swamps common to her homeland. Home. Not much left of home now. She was getting sidetracked.

Legs: Also sore from walking, but less so. The musculature was hers, but the skeleton was reinforced with carbon-steel after a fall when she was little. Shock absorbing hydraulic femurs were nice for someone who did as much walking as she did. Skin was necrotizing again. Gotta get that replaced. Maybe one of the corpses is fresh enough to provide a graft.

Pelvis: Mercifully unfeeling. The surveyor had grabbed her by the hips. Skeleton was completely replaced a long time ago, but she could feel a hitch in the joint of her left leg whenever she moved it just so. An easy fix but time consuming, and not the sort of work to be done on a moving train. No necrotization here, at this point it was all synthetic. Uterus was completely original, not that it meant much. The little bundle of braided tubes that assisted her endocrine system remained stapled to her skin. The jangling was annoying, kept getting stuck on her hatchet, thus, staples. Fluids were looking a little dark, she must be dehydrated.

Torso: Felt fine, aside from the strain on her spine from carrying her things. Even with the augments, spines in general were just poorly constructed. Flesh was scarred, lots of burns, but mostly original. Both clavicles were removed and replaced with cargo sockets. She rolled her shoulders, it seemed like everything was working well. Breasts and sternum had been removed too, replaced with subdermal bulletproofing. She had spent extra for the good stuff there. One solid hand-ground piece of sloped armor. Getting shot in the lung was a lesson you only needed to learn once. Heart was completely mechanical. She even had a backup in her bag just in case. She traded the old lung and the breast tissue for that.

Right Arm: She rolled back the sleeve of her heavy coat and stretched her arm, watching the little electric motors dance. It was strong and dexterous, with half a dozen small tools built into the length of her forearm. No need for skin. In a pinch she could perform everything from network intrusion to basic surgery. Most of it was covered by the sleeve of her heavy coat. The amputation was above the elbow. She had leased her original arm for the current mechanical one when she was working on the pit crew for for an order of knights. She ended up keeping the arm.

Left Arm: She liked her left arm. She was proud of it. The trademark of a sythetimancer. It was pretty. Biological and mechanical features blending seamlessly together. Coils of veins and circuitry making intricate braids up her arm terminating in perfect Fibonacci spirals. Softly bioluminescent blood, filaments formed from calcified nerve tissue, synapse clusters under crystal clear de-pigmented bulbs of alpha-keratin. She concentrated for a moment, allowing the whirls on her palm to twist and readjust themselves with a tingling sensation. Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, all recombining into butane. She snapped her fingers, igniting a tiny flame, letting it dance along her fingers for a few moments burning and repairing the flesh as she went, spirals parting and coalescing like leaves navigating the twain of a gentle river. They looked like the little shell fossils she found at the white desert when she was little. Memories. Loss.

The spirals in her hand began to twist and pulse, little corkscrews of bone began to form, growing outwards against the thin layer of biosynthetic skin. It hurt. She winced, and regained control a moment later. Careless. She shook her arm, and the flame on her finger went out.

Head: Still a bit hazy from the pain. Where to start with the head? Neck. Parched. Currently being warmed by a scarf with a length of handmade maille hidden in the folds. Rebreather was working well because it was made well. It was made well because she made it. She made it because it used to be her job. Like everyone of her strain, she had no teeth, only two solid ridges of tough bone, largely blunt and made for gnashing but gradually coalescing into a single triangular point, evolved for ripping flesh. She clacked her jaws together experimentally. Clack. Clack.

Eyes were tired and dry. There was a short mechanical hiss and a snap as she the shields over her eyes retracted back into their sockets in her cheekbones. The only light was from a pair of grates in the ceiling, but the glare nearly blinded her. She snapped the shields back into place, and the heads up display came slowly back into focus.

Originally her skin was the sort of rust color common to her strain. By now it was a deep weather-worn red, except for the parts that were charred black and rotting. Gotta replace that. If she could grow hair, she had done a damn good job of making sure it was thoroughly singed off. It occurred to her that it might be fun to have hair one day. Maybe she could make it herself. Would it grow in spirals? She looked down to open the bag of genebending tools at her waist, and her heart jumped into her goddamn throat.

Staring up at her from the pile of corpses was a pair of bright red eyes on an unnaturally pale face with no nose or lips. Which would not be terribly upsetting or surprising, had it not just said “well met” in an oddly pleasant female voice, attempt to sit up, fail, and then ask politely if its new acquaintance would stop sitting on it.

This is the first chapter of Amber Skies. The complete story can be read here, along with its currently-in-progress sequel, Emerald Seas.

#Amber Skies #Emerald Seas

5K notes · View notes

sailortongue · 4 months

Text

someone help me name this fic

pairing: choso kamo x reader

summary: a simple movie night with your best friend turns into something more when his older brother joins your weekly ritual

wc: 3.3k

warnings: smut, nsfw, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, yuji is asleep in the same room briefly

an: why is smut so hard to write. feel like i put in so much effort just for it to not even be good

an 2: also the "title" is not a joke. this fic has been sitting in the docs for a few days and i'm still stumped. so if anyone has suggestions the floor is all yours

--------

Movie night was definitely your favorite night of the week. It always involved plenty of snacks, jokes, laughter, and was just generally a great time with your best friend. There was never a boring moment as long as Yuji was around. So no matter what, you could always expect to have fun.

What you didn't expect, though, was Yuji’s older brother, Choso, joining your weekly ritual. You liked him well enough, for what little you knew about him. For as long as you've been friends with Yuji you don't think Choso has ever said more than three words to you at one time. Not that that stopped you from harboring a small crush on the older male. You rolled your eyes at yourself. Crushing on your best friend’s brother. How cliche could you get?

But fuck Choso was pretty. Like, unfairly pretty. Especially now, when he was fresh out of the shower, his hair down from its usual space buns. You also noticed that he had removed the copious amount of earrings he usually had in his ears, giving him a softer look than you were accustomed too. You watched him run his hands through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. You bet his hands would feel so good on your-

“Y/N!”

You snapped back to reality to see Yuji looking at you expectantly. “What?” you asked dumbly, heat spreading across your cheeks, embarrassed that you had accidentally ignored your friend in favor of thirsting over his brother. Get a grip you thought to yourself.

But Yuji only chuckled. “Rough week?” he asked.

You groaned as you dramatically flopped backward to lay on the couch, which was answer enough for Yuji. Always the optimist, he said, “Maybe next week will be better. You got this.”

“No, I don’t. This degree is eating me alive. I have not one, not two, but three exams next week!” you exclaimed, holding up three fingers for emphasis.

“You’ll be fine. You did well on your last exams and you’ll do well on these too. So like I was saying, I wanted to know if you had a particular movie in mind.”

You thought about it for a moment. “No, not really. How about we let Choso pick since it’s his first time watching with us?”

Both you and Yuji looked over at Choso, whose eyes widened at finding himself the center of attention. He hummed, trying to think if there was anything that piqued his interest before settling on a movie he’d been meaning to watch but never got around to.

“Perfect! Hey, Yn, can you pop some popcorn while I set it up?” asked Yuji.

You hummed your agreement and stood from your place on the couch, padding your way over to the kitchen. You dug in the pantry for the popcorn, finally finding the box shoved way in the back. You grabbed two of the pouches and placed one in the microwave. While that was popping, you decided to go ahead and get a large bowl for the snack.

Naturally, it was on the top shelf, which left you on your tiptoes and stretching your arm as high as you could all in vain. As if summoned by your plight, Choso walked into the kitchen to see your struggle.

“Hey, Choso, could you-”

Before you could even finish asking, he placed himself right behind you, his body flush to yours as he placed a hand on your hip for stability and reached up with the other arm to grab the bowl. He handed it to you with a simple “here” before walking back into the living room.

You couldn't believe that just happened. Your heart was going a mile a minute and you briefly considered splashing cold water on your face to cool it down. Luckily for you, Choso remained in the living room with Yuji, allowing you to have a small meltdown in peace.

When you returned to the living room with popcorn in hand, you found that Yuji had made himself comfortable in the recliner, which left you with no choice but to share the couch with Choso. There was ample room on the couch for the two of you, but just being in the same room after his stunt in the kitchen felt too close, much less on the same couch.

You did your best to avoid looking at Choso, knowing your face would erupt with heat the moment you made eye contact. You placed the popcorn on the coffee table and took your seat on the opposite end of the sofa as Choso.

“Everybody ready?” asked Yuji excitedly, eager to watch a movie with two of his favorite people. When both you and his brother gave the affirmative, he started the movie. But for all of his excitement to watch it, you guess the exhaustion that comes with the end of a school week caught up to him, and he was asleep before he even made it halfway into the movie.

This left you to watch the rest of the movie alone with his brother, the man who had flustered you so terribly a mere hour ago and the one you thought about late at night. You silently cursed Yuji’s name for leaving you in this situation, even more so when the characters on screen ended up in a bedroom. You could feel Choso’s gaze on you, and when you glanced over at him, you were right, he was looking right at you.

You furrowed your brows into a questioning gaze, silently asking him what. He shook his head and returned his attention to the screen. You followed suit, but the graphic imagery was getting to you. You shifted in your seat, feeling the stirrings of arousal that first began with Choso pressing himself against your backside. You couldn't but imagine that the couple on screen was you and Choso: how it would feel to kiss him, be held by him, be fucked by him.

Why is this scene so long? You thought to yourself, rubbing your thighs together as discreetly as you could. But not as discreetly as you should have, apparently.

“Are you cold?” asked Choso. Now, Choso knew damn well you weren’t cold, but he wanted to see how far he could push you, how desperate he could make you.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you insisted.

He frowned at your response and scooted over next to you anyway, extending his blanket to cover you. You weren't so naive to think that this is a normal and friendly interaction. Especially not when Choso’s large hand slid over your thigh and rested just below the hem of your shorts. You stiffened in your seat, and a warmth began to spread through your lower belly. “Choso,” you started, but the words caught in your throat as soon as he glanced down at you.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His hand continued from behind your ear and migrated to cup your face, pulling you closer to him. You glanced at his lips, heart practically pounding out of your chest. Before your lips could connect, he paused. “Is this okay with you?” he whispered breathily. He’d never forgive himself if he was making you uncomfortable with his advances.

Rather than answer, you mirrored his actions, cupping his face and pulling him closer, finally pressing your lips against his soft ones. He inhaled roughly, but melted against you as he returned the kiss. He licked the seam of your lips, urging you to let him in.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for Choso. His hands moved to grip your hips and pull you into his lap. Now straddling him, you could feel how hard he was beneath you. You gasped into his mouth, and as soon as you did you regretted it. Choso pulled away from you, his dark eyes boring into yours. “You have to be quiet, pretty girl. You wouldn't want Yuji to wake up and see us, would you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide and pleading for him to keep going. He mockingly pouted at you, but it morphed into a patronizing grin, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He leaned in and licked a stripe from the base of your neck all the way to just below your ear. You shivered in his grasp, and he chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. He blew on the wet stripe, pleased at the way your body reacted so deliciously to the stimulation, your hands balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. But you stayed quiet. He hummed. “Good girl. Let’s go somewhere you can be a little louder. What d’ya say? I want to hear all those pretty sounds.”

You nodded fervently, not trusting your voice at the moment for fear that you’d disturb Yuji. Choso tutted at you, and nipped at your earlobe. The sudden sharp pain caused you to wince, but it was quickly forgotten as Choso placed feather-light kisses along your jawline before returning where he started, his soft voice tickling the shell of your ear. “Come on, baby, use your words. I need to hear you say it. Need to hear you say you want me to fuck you.”

You were about to assert that yes, you wanted this, wanted him, but you hesitated, wondering what Yuji would think if he ever found out.

He could see the indecision in your eyes, that you were unsure if you truly wanted to continue this or not. He pulled away from you, terrified that he had overstepped and you were just too scared to stop him. “If you don’t want this-”

“No!” you cut him off. “I do. I really want this. I’m just worried about what Yuji will think when or if he finds out and mmH-” Choso smashed his lips against yours, effectively silencing every racing thought as all you could focus on was the way his tongue intertwined with yours and how good his hands felt as they smoothed up and down your waist.

He reluctantly pulled away before he completely lost himself to bliss. “God, you're just too perfect.” His eyes scanned up and down your heaving body, which was tense with anticipation. All it took was the soft “please” falling from your kiss-swollen lips to have Choso groaning, all of his restraint crumbling within him. Your hips gyrating over his was just the nail in his coffin. He slid his hands from where they rested on your hips down your thighs, smoothly lifting you up with him as he stood from the couch. From over his shoulder you could see your best friend still sleeping peacefully in the recliner, none the wiser that the relationship between his best friend and older brother was about to be forever changed.

A pang of guilt went through you, but was smothered by the overwhelming lust and attraction you had been harboring for Choso since the first moment you saw him. What Yuji didn’t know wouldn't kill him, right?

You lost sight of Yuji as Choso entered his room, using his foot to softly close the door behind him. He approached the bed and placed you atop it gently, reverently even. Seeing his face hovering above yours, having him between your legs, it felt unreal. You never even entertained the thought that your fantasies would become a reality, but now they were and it was so much better than you could have ever dreamed.

In the privacy of his room and without worrying that his brother would wake any second, Choso became bolder. He was seemingly unable to decide where to place his hands now that he finally had you under him. You wrapped your hands around his wrists and guided his hands to your chest, prompting him to cup your breasts. He got the message loud and clear, giving them each a soft squeeze. He trailed his hands down to the hem of your shirt and slid his hands under the material, pulling it above your head and tossing it to the floor of his bedroom. He returned his hands to your covered breasts, kneading them through your bra before he hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it down.

He let out a shaky breath, entranced by the vision you made beneath him, the very picture of beauty and femininity. You watched him as he drank in the sight, resisting the urge to pull him where you wanted him. Unable to resist any longer himself, Choso lowered his face to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and tweaking the other between two fingers. You gasped as he suckled at the tender flesh, and your hand flew to the back of head, winding your fingers in his dark hair. He released your nipple with a pop, and tilted his head up to see you already looking at him. “Don’t stop,” you whined, already missing the warmth of his mouth on your body.

“Don’t worry, I'm not stopping til we both feel good.” As he said that, he switched sides and continued his ministrations, dragging his free hand down to the hem of your shorts. “Let’s get these off, yeah?” You lifted your hips to aid in his efforts, and they soon joined your shirt on the floor.

Choso placed his hands on the outside of your thighs, using the thumb of one hand to toy with your clit through your panties. You moaned at his touch, his name slipping from your lips. The sweet sound of your voice was music to Choso’s ears, and he was determined to hear as much of it as possible. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing every gasp and moan, his lithe fingers bringing you to the edge faster than you ever thought possible. All too soon, he removed his hand, but you quickly realized he was true to his word and far from done as he slid his hand beneath your panties.

He chuckled against your lips, “You're so wet and I've barely done anything.”

You turned your face to the side, using one hand to cover the blush spreading across your features. As endearing as your bashfulness was, Choso wanted you to be as comfortable with him as possible. He took your wrist in his hand and pulled it from your face, instead placing it atop the painfully throbbing bulge in his pants. “You don’t need to be shy with me. I want you just as bad, if not more. Wanted you since the moment Yuji first brought you home.”

“Really?” you asked, wondering if both of you had been ignoring your feelings for each other all this time.

He nodded. “Really. Still remember the first time I saw you. You were wearing that cute little skirt with the laces in the back, and all I could think about was what it would be like to fuck you in it. You’ll have to wear it for me next time, hm?”

Next time.

“Only if you put in your piercings.”

He laughed at that. “Whatever you want, princess.”

You were both there gazing at each other like fools, the distance slowly but surely closing between you. The kiss was searing, and you were abruptly reminded of the need you felt as Choso made quick work of your bra and panties, leaving you bare beneath him, despite the fact that he was fully clothed. He attached his lips to your neck, sucking dark marks that Yuji would surely see tomorrow morning, and dragged two of his fingers through your folds, gathering slick with his fingers before pushing in. You moaned at the intrusion, your walls clamping down tightly on his fingers. You could feel Choso grin against your throat as he curled his fingers into you, pulling them in and out slowly. Your gasps and moans increased in both tempo and volume until he removed his fingers altogether.

Your protests died in your throat as you saw Choso prop himself on his knees as he removed his shirt, revealing the toned body you had no idea he was hiding beneath his usually baggy tees. He removed his sweats and boxers next, his stiff cock slapping against his stomach. He resumed his position between your legs and stroked himself a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

He pushed in slowly and you would have screamed from the pleasure of him stretching you out if it wasn't for the hand that swiftly covered your mouth. “I know, baby, I know, but you can’t be too loud.”

He continued to push into you, and every time you thought you had taken all of him there was more. Just when you were sure you couldn't possibly take any more, you felt his balls press firmly against your ass. You were so full, more than you ever had been in your life.

Choso sighed as he filled you completely, the velvety softness of your walls sucking him in greedily. “Oh God you feel too good,” he whispered, the words strangled as he struggled to keep himself still, giving you time to adjust to his size. He watched the way your chest heaved up and down with every labored breath, the way your eyes were glazing over in ecstasy, and the way your sweet cunt fluttered around his cock.

He couldn't take it anymore when you thrust your own hips upwards, the involuntary movement all it took to snap Choso’s composure. He pulled out almost completely, before sinking back in a single thrust. The way your cunt swallowed him so eagerly had him on cloud nine. How had he gone for so long without knowing the bliss that was being inside you.

His cock continued to drill in and out of you, his grunts of pleasure mixing with your moans. The delicious sounds you made spurred him on, and he quickened his movements. He no longer cared if Yuji heard. Let him. Let him know how good Choso made you feel. You were his best friend, but as of now you were also Choso’s girl.

You felt yourself going stupid with the pleasure of having him inside you, his name the only word you were capable of saying. He knew you were close, and he wanted more than anything to feel you clench around him as he brought you to the height of pleasure. He brought his hand down to rub circles against your clit, doing his damndest to make this the best you’ve ever had. “C’mon, baby, cum for me. You can do it. Cum around my cock, show me how good I make you feel.”

Those words were all it took to have you falling over the edge, pussy clenching tightly around Choso, whose own orgasm was triggered by yours. He moaned loudly, feeling too good to worry about volume. He continued to thrust into you as you each rode out your highs, his cum leaking out around him with every push into your used hole.

As soon as the waves of pleasure died out, pulled out and collapsed on top of you. Your pants mixed together as he lay with his head on your chest. You brought your hand up to card your fingers through his hair, and he hummed at your soft touch.

You continued to do so until he propped himself up on his elbows, his face mere inches from yours. “Would you go on a date with me?” he asked nervously.

A broad smile spread across your face, ecstatic that he wanted more from you than just sex. “I’d love to.”

A smile of his own mirrored yours as he surged forward to capture your lips with his own, the happiness exuding from him almost palpable. When he broke the kiss, he rolled off of you and onto his side, pulling you into his chest as he did so. With Choso’s arms wrapped securely around you, you both drifted off in the comfort of each other’s presence, unaware that it was the exact position a younger brother incapable of knocking would find you in in the morning.

#choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso kamo fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

1K notes · View notes

the-californicationist · 2 months

Text

The Window (Ch. 03)

Ch. 01 // Ch. 02 // Ch. 03 --- AO3

TW: breeding kink, reverse harem

You were sweating buckets in this brush cover, waiting for the enemy to pop their head over the fence. Beads of salty perspiration ran down your face in thin rivulets, threatening your eyes and soaking into your keffiyeh.

“You alright, little bird?” Price whispered down to you breathlessly, passing you his canteen.

You nodded, drinking from the plastic container, slaking your thirst. You shouldn’t have been having such a hard time with the Urzikstani heat, but you were. It didn’t help that you’d gotten sick yesterday off of a bad MRE. You were just ready for this mission to be over with.

“I didn’t hurt you last night, did I, Spar?” Ghost asked, checking his sights again, not taking his eyes off of the target.

“No,” you shook your head, “I’m alright.”

Ghost’s comment made your memory of your night together rush back, bombarding you with ghosts of your mens’ tantric sensations all over again.

Price had read another book about fertility, some ancient text from a few centuries ago, translated into English. And he’d been convinced that tantra was the way to go.

“Slow down, Simon. Keep your breathing up, yeah just like that. From your belly. Tha’s a good lad,” the captain coached.

John’s setup was very specific. All of their bodies were sandwiched around you as you lay with your back on Price’s chest, propped up into a lounging position, and Soap and Gaz were glued to your sides, each worshiping a breast at their commander’s instruction.

Soap’s hand was glued to your belly, just above your mons, pressing down gently, squeezing you. Gaz’s hand was on your midsection, hopefully covering the right chakra, and Price’s hands were on your chest and forehead, holding your eyes up, staring into Simon’s struggling face. Meanwhile, Ghost was sheathed deep inside of you, rotating his hips without fully removing his cock, churning himself inside of you like a big, burly engine, breathing like he was running a marathon.

You, too, were breathing. In when he breathed in, out when he breathed out. All of you were rubbing and massaging and inhaling and exhaling. It was overwhelming. You’d never been so wet in your life. You were so soft and pliant inside of your core that you could feel every micro movement that Simon performed. If he had actually been pounding into you like he normally did, you would have been a screaming, crying mess.

“Alright, little bird. Don’t forget your exercises,” Price reminded you, kissing your neck. You could feel John’s drooling cock as it lolled against your lower back, twitching as he watched his lieutenant work you into a froth.

You did as you were told, completing the ritual by squeezing your smooth, internal muscles around Ghost’s impossibly fat dick on every down breath.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Ghost grunted through his teeth, baring them like a wounded wolf, “I can’t…”

You raised your hands to cup his cheeks, feeling the jagged scar that cut across his mouth, and you guided his lips to yours, kissing him as gently as you could, barely letting your tongue dart out to taste him.

Between your throbbing pussy and his soft kisses, that was all it took to push you both over the edge. He came in hot, thick bursts, more than you’d ever felt from him, and he ground his hips into yours almost menacingly.

“Alright,” Price kissed your cheek, his face so close to Simon’s it made your head spin, “You ready?”

You didn’t respond. You just felt your legs being spread apart by six strong hands. Then, each of Price’s men began to finger you, slowly pressing their longest digits into your come-filled hole. They began to gently — ever so gently — rub Ghost’s thick cream into you, as deep as it would go, stretching you and playing in you in a life-altering way, bringing you beyond the point of orgasm and into some sort of other-worldly bliss.

For the cherry on top, your captain began to swipe long, wet circles over your clit. You were screaming so loudly that he had to use his other hand to cover your mouth, shushing you but not stopping his ministrations.

“Tha’s a good girl. Let it out, little bird.”

You passed out from the overstimulation before you could witness Price’s orchestrated tantra come to a close, and you wondered if you would survive round two.

Now, as you crouched behind these scratchy bushes, you weren’t sure how much more effective tantric sex would be at getting you pregnant, but it didn’t matter.

You already were.

You hadn’t told them yet. From everything you’d read, these first few weeks were a toss-up. Anything could happen, and the last thing you needed was to get everyone’s hopes up. You were also being deeply selfish. What would your relationship be like when you finally found out who the father was? You didn’t want to lose out on the incredible bond you’d built with them over these last three months.

Your eyes saw movement. Then, you heard the cracking and popping sound of bullets striking the side of the building you were huddled against. Suddenly, a loud bang rang out overhead and all was silent once more. Soap came on the radio and said,

“Target down.”

“I’m hit,” you whispered, staring down at your leg with disbelief. A bullet must have ricocheted and struck you in the calf. In and out. A clean wound.

“What?” Price said breathlessly, staring down at you as the blood began to stain your pants.

“Oh, fuck!” Gaz scrambled over to you and scooped you up, rushing you back inside. He put pressure on the wound and wrapped it up tight, opening up his comms, “Hey! We need med-evac right fucking now!”

Johnny came down from his crow’s nest and knelt in front of you, holding your hand,

“Those fuckin’ bastards,” he looked furious, “I wasnae fast enough.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shook your head, feeling your blood pressure rise, “I think it was a stray shot.”

You heard Price’s low growl as he came over the radio, screaming at Laswell’s extraction team,

“Where’s my fuckin’ helo?”

You watched as Price and Ghost stripped the makeshift base back to its bones, stuffing all of your gear into the bags. Gaz and Soap were on you like glue, forcing you to elevate your leg and to drink water. Rubbing your forehead, trying to relieve the pain.

It was a long thirty minutes back to the base. Price held you in his arms all the way through the building, pushing everyone out of the way. You were flanked by the others, like one big, sweaty bodyguard squad, just for you.

The medics took you from Price, ushering your team out of the infirmary, fighting their protests to stay with you.

“It’s a GSW to the leg, captain. I think she’ll live,” the doctor rolled his eyes and shut the door.

After that, the only thing you could remember was coming around, still groggy from the anesthetic, listening to the doctor’s voice just outside the room, muffled and murky,

“...no complications. Should heal up in a few weeks. The baby’s lifesigns are all norm—”

“Baby?!”

The door to the infirmary shuddered like a bomb went off, and all four men poured into the room, still dressed in their gear from your mission. They hadn’t even gone back to their quarters, worried sick, pacing the hallway. Now, here they were, wide-eyed and staring at you for some explanation.

There was a long pause as you tried to figure out what to say. But then, Soap said it for you, a hint of hurt in his voice,

“You knew.”

It wasn’t a question, so you didn’t answer him. You simply put your hands over your belly, protectively, stammering an excuse,

“I didn’t — You shouldn’t get your hopes up. It’s too soon.”

They all spoke at once, an eruption of emotion in the tiny room,

“...should’ve told us at once! We…”

“...you felt you had to hide it…”

“...could’ve been killed on this mission! How could…”

The doctor came back inside, huffing at the scene,

“What the fuck is this? Mamma Mia? Get the hell out! She needs rest. Get! That’s an order, Captain.”

Price and his men were silent, sorely cowed by the doctor’s orders. Soap came to your side, kissing your forehead,

“See you soon, bonnie.”

Ghost gave you a soft smile and followed him out. Gaz brushed the hair out of your face and put his hand over yours as they lay across your belly, waiting for flutters and kicks that weren’t there. His full lips found yours and he left you wordlessly.

John was the last to leave. He looked like he was at war with himself, fighting over what to say and how to say it. His boonie hat was twisted in his hands, rolled in his palms, crushed by his immense strength. He didn’t kiss you. He didn’t even say goodbye. But, those bright blue eyes bored into yours, telling you everything you needed to know.

You were released with a pair of crutches the following morning, and while you didn’t need them there, none of the boys showed up to help you like you thought they would. You made it all the way back to your quarters before you ran into Laswell.

“Hey, Sparrow. How are you feeling?”

“I’ll live. Where is the 141? Is there a training or something?”

“No,” Laswell knitted her brow, not wanting to share her news, “You’ve been… temporarily reassigned. They have redeployed on another mission. Three days in Aqtabi. I’m sure they’ll touch base when they get back.”

“Reassigned?” You couldn’t believe it. You knew Price was protective, but this was going too far, “I’m… He took me off the team?”

“It’s temporary. Just until…” You watched in disbelief as her eyes trailed down not to your wound but to your belly, “Well, anyway, congratulations, soldier.”

She gave you a soft smile and left you standing in the hallway, experiencing every emotion at once, and landing on anger. No, not anger. White-hot rage.

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #captain john price #cod mwii #call of duty #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #mw2 141 #cod 141 #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

764 notes · View notes

itadoring · 9 months

Text

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 / 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluff / multi characters

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: kento, megumi, satoru, suguru, sukuna, toji & yuuji

𝗞𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗡𝗔𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗜

“ Welcome back.” you greet him with a smile and take the work bag from his hands.

“ I told you not to wait for me.” he tells you in a tired tone as he takes off his shoes.

𝗞𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗼 goes to sit on the living room couch, leaning his head against the backrest and closes his eyes, as you join him soon after putting his bag away.

The work in the office only increases and his salary remains the same.

His thoughts occupy him so much that he doesn't hear you come and sit beside him. Only when you take his left hand in yours does 𝗞𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗼 look at you with his eyes full of affection and love.

Your thumb presses lightly on his thin, long fingers, and you calmly begin to massage his visibly swollen hands.

𝗞𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗼 first wraps his fingers around your thumb and then your hand, bringing it close to his thin lips, leaving a kiss on the back of your hand.

“ You are very kind. Thank you.” he tells you, showing a smile of gratitude.

𝗠𝗘𝗚𝗨𝗠𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢

“ Don't move!” you tell him, pulling his injured hand, which he has previously tried to remove from your grasp, towards you.

“ It's nothing. They are insignificant cuts.” he retorts in an annoyed tone. He doesn't understand why you are so obstinate in caring for something he doesn't even care about, as if those wounds of his could put his life at risk.

“ If you leave them like that, these wounds can give you infections. If you have infections, you will have diseases. If you get diseases, maybe you'll even have to amputate your hand.” you tell him dramatically the scenario as your own, now experienced, fingers put band-aids on his injured knuckles.

𝗠𝗲𝗴𝘂𝗺𝗶 looks at you resignedly, it is now a ritual for him to be medicated by you after he beats up some school bully.

“ Thank you.” when he says it, it's inaudible, but the smile that forms on your face is enough to let him know you heard him.

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢

If there is something that 𝗦𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘂, the great and strong prodigy of the 𝗚𝗼𝗷𝗼 clan, is not gifted at, it is cooking.

No matter how many times he tries he always ends up endangering the kitchen and raising demonstrations for the rights of kitchens and against the misuse of them by inexperienced and untalented individuals like Mr. 𝗚𝗼𝗷𝗼.

This time he has decided well to make you participate and not try to do it all by himself. He stands behind you, his tall, muscular figure contradicting your petite one; his chin rests on your head as you tell him the latest gossip in your workplace.

Your fingers hovering over his, guiding his every movement as you slice up some vegetables. Your right hand wrapping around his hand that is currently holding the knife.

“ If you put your other hand like this, you won't cut your fingers off.” you add, showing him how to hold his left hand so that he doesn't hurt himself like the previous times.

𝗦𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗢

It is about midnight when you wake up to a cold chill. The window is open and the usual breeze after the rain blows from it, causing you to pull your not-so-heavy blanket tighter.

You turn your head towards your boyfriend, who continues to sleep undisturbed, and move closer to his body: your back against his torso and your legs searching for a space between his.

One of his arms is under your head while the other is placed lightly on your side. You take his large hand and bring it close to your face, trying to cover your upper body with his body heat.

“ Are you cold?” the still sleepy voice of 𝗦𝘂𝗴𝘂𝗿𝘂 makes you wince a little, but you close your eyes again.

“ Yes, but it's better now.” you reply and he pulls you towards him, as if your contact wasn't enough.

𝗦𝗨𝗞𝗨𝗡𝗔 𝗥𝗬𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡

You are sitting on the lap of the great king of curses who looks at you while you keep busy with his hand.

“ Oi, what do you find so interesting? Are you trying to read my hand?” he asks you mockingly, seeing your concentrated expression. You look at him for a moment and again at his hand. Your fingers gently caress his thicker, longer ones.

“ I envy your nails. You don't even have to go to the beautician to get them so well done.” you declare, comparing his long black nails with yours, for which you had to shell out money.

Your confession leaves 𝗦𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮 speechless as he looks at you in surprise but at the same time in disbelief. He has never paid attention to this detail, or rather, it is not something he would waste time on.

A laugh comes out of his mouth, almost as if he is teasing you.

“ You leave me speechless.” he tells you and you look at him with a smile, proud of your work.

𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢

𝗧𝗼𝗷𝗶 sits manspread on the couch with you beside him, his hand resting on your thigh, his fingers occasionally caressing your skin.

You turn your gaze to him, him absorbed in the television programme with his head resting on the palm of his other hand, his elbow on the armrest of the couch.

You take his hand in yours, decidedly smaller, and touch first your palms and then your fingers. The tips of yours don't even reach halfway to his.

“ What long fingers.” you say almost as if you're talking to yourself.

𝗧𝗼𝗷𝗶 turns his head and the right side of his lips turn up, also highlighting the small scar, showing you a smirk.

He opens his hand wider and intertwines his fingers with yours. You look at him not understanding and he kisses the back of your hand without taking his green eyes off you.

“ You really like my long fingers, don't ya?”

𝗬𝗨𝗝𝗜 𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗜

“ Don't let go, please.” you tell him a little afraid to fall face-first onto the ice slope.

𝗬𝘂𝗷𝗶 chuckles and you tighten your grip on both of his hands covered by your winter gloves. You still don't understand why you accepted his idea of skating when you've obviously never done it before.

“ You're getting better! Keep it up, good girl.” he says in an encouraging tone and moves toward the center of the rink as you follow him unsure of your movements.

“ Yuʼ, don't be fast.” you complain and are on the verge of tears as you feel yourself losing your balance, even though you have your boyfriend in front of you whose hands you keep welded tightly.

𝗬𝘂𝗷𝗶 is good at any sport and decides to speed up just a little. He pulls you toward him a little while still maintaining some distance, and shows you his toothy smile.

“ You don't have to be afraid when I'm here.” holy words spoken before he falls down with you.

My asks are open if you want.

1K notes · View notes

spikesbicth · 5 months

Text

Got Love Sick All Over My Bed

Astarion x F!Reader!Tav

Summary: Astarion discovers Tav having a private moment in her tent.

approx 1.5k words

cross posted on ao3

CW: 18+ Minors DNI, smut, masturbation, maybe a tiny bit voyeurism but only if you squint. biting. vampires.

A/N: I am just in the inspiration train so I banged out (lol) this quick one shot. just feeling so creative! once again barely proofread so excuse any glaring issues. Feedback always appreciated :) enjoy!

The smell of smoke lingers on your hair and the clothes lying in a pile at the foot of your bedroll. This was a usual occurrence, as nearly every evening was spent at the fire with your companions, discussing the day and what was to come. Conversations often went in circles, regardless of what had happened that day you often felt you were no closer to safety, always in danger. During these nights, you often found your mind and your eyes wandering to Astarion, whose pale skin and sliver hair was awash with a golden glow from the firelight. He was always entrancingly beautiful, but in this light he was truly ethereal, otherworldly. You were awash with love for him, and yet at the same time completely unsure if he felt the same way or would stick around long enough for you to find out.

These memories and feelings swirl in your mind as you try to relax on the uneven ground. It was difficult to remove your doubtful thoughts of Astarion. In an effort to gain closeness to him, you had offered your neck and your blood to him. Over time, for yourself at least, it had become something you anticipated and desired each night; you wished to steal a kiss from him before the ritual. Tonight, you imagine more. You close your eyes, picturing the crescent of his collar bones under his loose silk shirt he wore each evening at camp. The spot where his jaw meets his neck. The feeling of his body pressing against yours, his broad shoulders and chest that narrow delicately to his waist, his hips, his hands…

Tonight you want him, you want what you know he is capable of doing to you. He is to meet you tonight, in your tent, after the others have settled in their own.

You have time though, don’t you…?

You feel blood rush to your pelvis, a slick arousal beginning to pool between your legs.

Unable to curb your desire you trail your cool fingers down your abdomen, pushing up goosebumps as you progress. Already naked under your blankets, you find your clit and begin to rub small circles, gentle and delicately at first. You imagine the smell of Astarion’s hair, sweet with bergamot…

You imagine the smell of Astarion’s hair while he kisses you and touches you the way you touch yourself. A light gasp escapes your lips as the image sends a jolt of energy through your body and you press harder with your fingers. You move on for a moment, pushing two fingers inside of yourself, slightly shocked at how wet you have become. You slip further into your fantasy, imagining Astarion cupping your breast while he fingers you, playing with your nipple, kissing your jaw and neck. Gods, you wish for it.

“Oh my… now what do we have here..?” A voice questions in the darkness at the entrance of your tent.

Your stomach drops, and your eyes jolt open.

Oh. Fuck. You think, feeling your cheeks flush. You in fact, did not have time for this before the object of your desires arrived at your stoop. How long had he been there?

“I… uh, hi,” you croak, your mouth slightly dry from the rhythmic breathing forced by your touch.

Astarion widens the slack door of your tent and lets himself in, an knowing grin across his face. He immediately sits beside you near your pillow. No matter how unreasonable, there was no doubt to you that he knew your pounding heart was beating for him. You sit up, pulling your blanket up to cover your bare chest, feeling unusually exposed in front of him tonight.

“Shall we?” He asks, ignoring what you felt to be the elephant in the room. Though you felt embarrassment, the idea of him watching you touch yourself made your clit pulsate and wetness continue to flow from within you.

“Oh, yes… of course.” You answer, trying to hide your arousal.

Astarion moves behind you, sitting with one leg on either side of you. This was not his usual approach to feeding, and you wonder what he is planning.

“Darling, do lean back for me,” he requests, his voice deep and velvety. You lay back, resting your bare back against him. Your heart continues to pound in your chest and at this point, you were more than certain he could feel it. You tilt your chin back looking up at home with wide eyes and meeting his crimson gaze. He leans forward, and you anticipate the joining of your bodies with his bite.

To your surprise, he lays a gentle kiss on your neck. You gasp, and blink, was this a dream?

“Is that alright, my dear?” he asks, his lips brushing your neck as he spoke. You nod yes, rendered speechless by his kiss. “May I continue?” he asks again, and you nod once more, moving a hand slowly to touch one of his legs.

His kiss meets your neck again, kissing slowly, his fangs only occasionally catching your skin rather than piercing it. You feel your throbbing heartbeat between your legs, as you feel the blanket you had pulled across your chest begin to slip down as you arch your back to allow Astarion more access to your neck. The cool air grasps your nipples and they grow dense and hard in response.

“Would you like to continue to touch yourself?” He asks.

Yes Gods, Yes. You wanted to. You wanted him to watch you. Still, the bewilderment you felt of these fantastical actions playing out squirmed at the back of your mind.

“Please… I do,” you affirm. You send your free hand back down to your folds, and find them even slipperier than they were before. The blanket falls further down your chest until your breasts are fully exposed and it only covers your hand working on your clit.

Astarion moves a hand to one of your breasts, continuing to kiss your neck and jaw. His cool touch sends lighting through your body.

Your clit throbs under your fingers, swollen and sensitive. As much as you desired these moments to last forever, there was certainly no way you would be lasting very long. Moaning and gasping in Astarion’s arms, you rub yourself hungrily.

It doesn’t take much more to reach your peak, bursting into orgasm suddenly. Your hips sway, and you clench rhythmically around nothing. Your back arches and you press the back of your head into Astarion’s shoulder.

Your neck now even more exposed, Astarion sinks his teeth into you, your rich, crimson blood flowing into his mouth. You burn in pain, and you close your eyes, submitting to him.

Eventually, the rush calms, and you are left a panting, bloody mess in Astarion’s arms. You look up to his face again, this time moving to meet his mouth.

You join in a passionate kiss, and he slides his tongue into your mouth. You taste your own blood in his mouth and relish in imaging how much he enjoys the taste of you.

It was an explosion of passion, nearly as satisfying as your orgasm mere moments before. His soft lips sliding against yours, his fangs occasionally catching, his tongue touching and sliding against your own.

You pull away for a moment, looking into his ruby eyes.

“How…?” you ask, unable to find the words to describe your confusion at the sudden encounter, almost a recreation of what had occurred in your mind only moments before his arrival.

Astarion opens his mind to you, psychically linking to yours through the tadpoles that swum in your brain. You needn’t see his thoughts to know what has happened. How could you be so naive, of course the tadpole. Of course. In your fit of sudden insatiable desire, you left yourself almost completely unattended. Anyone who was tadpole-afflicted that happened to be wandering by may as well had been broadcasted the images you had conjured in your mind.

Without words, Astarion interrupts your thoughts. You see into his own mind, and are flustered by what you see. The same feelings you hold towards him, the same desires, the same yearning, the same love - but all for you.

You sit up, turning to look at him straight on, completely at a loss for words. He had wished for this as much as you had. A gentle, warm smile spreads across your face.

“Will you… stay with me tonight?” you ask, your voice faltering, still riddled with disbelief.

“I want nothing more” He replies, reaching a hand out to cup your cheek.

Like twisting vines, the two of you entangle yourselves in each others arms, and cuddle into the bedroll. Exhausted and contented, the worries that plagued your thoughts earlier that evening were nowhere to be found, and you knew that you wouldn’t be kept up from them ever again.

#astarion #mine #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x female tav #astarion x female reader #bladurs gate 3 #baldurs gate smut #why is astarjon my muse #spawn astarion

1K notes · View notes

edenesth · 6 months

Text

The Chosen One

Pairing: prince!San x palace maid!reader

Word Count: 0.9k

ATEEZ Masterlist

Your hands trembled as you worked to remove the layers of clothing that adorned his highness. Cursing under your breath, you struggled to suppress the trembling, but the intensity of his gaze only added to the challenge.

It was the first time you were tasked with undressing the prince, the first time you'd ever been this close to him.

Previously, your responsibilities revolved around tasks that kept you at a safe distance, such as tidying his chambers or caring for his gardens – all performed in his absence.

So, can anyone really blame you for shaking like a leaf right now?

Sure, the prince was not exactly someone you were unfamiliar with. He was only the Crown Prince Choi San of Wonderland, the most sought-after bachelor across all realms. Despite being of marriageable age for several years, he remained elusive in choosing a bride, leaving the entire kingdom in suspense and speculation.

Like countless other girls in the palace and throughout the country, you have imagined what it would be like to capture the crown prince's heart. In the quiet corners of your mind, you often allowed yourself to daydream about being the one he would choose as his consort.

It was a shared fantasy among the palace staff and citizens alike, fueled by the allure of the prince's unparalleled charm.

However, reality would quickly shatter those dreams every time.

Or so you thought.

Earlier that day, you nearly dropped an expensive vase when the palace messenger delivered the startling news. The prince himself had requested your presence to prepare him for his bath tonight. The words hung in the air, causing your heart to skip a beat. It seemed like an absurd jest, a cruel prank orchestrated by the fates.

The other maids in the vicinity exchanged puzzled glances, mirroring your own disbelief.

Why would Prince San single you out for such an intimate task? There was a fixed group of maids responsible for attending to his bedtime rituals, a routine they'd executed diligently for as long as anyone could remember.

Tonight, however, the prince had dismissed them all, demanding only your presence.

The shock reverberated through your being.

All this time, you'd believed yourself to be a mere speck in the grand tapestry of the palace, convinced that the prince probably didn't even know you existed. Yet, here you were, faced with an inexplicable summons that defied all reason.

Unbeknownst to you, Prince San had noticed you from the very beginning, weaving himself into the fabric of your everyday life. In quiet moments of solitude, he observed you with an attentive gaze, drawn to the kindness that radiated from your every action. Your grace and compassion set you apart, creating a magnetic pull that transcended the boundaries of nobility.

He's had his sights set on you for quite some time now, patiently waiting for the right moment to make his move. To him, you were unlike anyone he had ever encountered – pure, innocent, and delicate, akin to a beautiful flower.

Despite the societal pressures urging him to consider matches with noble backgrounds, the prince had been quietly searching for loopholes that would allow him to break free from tradition.

All he wanted was you.

Now here you were, right in front of him.

The air in the prince's chamber felt charged with a peculiar tension as you carefully worked on removing the final layer of his clothing. Each article brought you closer to an intimacy that seemed surreal, given the disparity in your stations.

When the last garment slipped away, revealing the bare expanse of the prince's skin, you hesitated, your fingers hovering momentarily above him. It was an intimate act that felt like a crossing of boundaries, leaving you momentarily paralysed by the realisation of the closeness.

Noticing your nervous demeanour, Prince San reached out with a gentle touch. His warm hand enveloped yours, steadying the tremors that ran through your fingers. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and you froze, feeling the warmth of his touch travel through your entire being. Blinking rapidly, you tried to compose yourself, but the intensity of his gaze held you captive.

Shaken, you took a steadying breath, grateful for the grounding touch of his hand. The prince, still holding onto your trembling hands, offered a gentle smile that melted away the tension.

"Do I scare you?" He asked, his tone soft and caring. Overwhelmed, you shook your head, words momentarily escaping you, "N-no, my prince. Of course not!" You stammered, your voice betraying a blend of awe and nervousness.

With your hands still cradled in his, he sensed your vulnerability. His eyes, filled with understanding, bore into yours as he tilted your head upward, guiding you to meet his gaze.

"Are you sure?" He inquired, a soft smile playing on his lips. You nodded, feeling your heart pound at the proximity.

Curling a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he spoke in a hushed tone, "Don't be afraid. I'll never hurt you. You're my chosen one." The weight of his declaration hung in the air, and your mind struggled to comprehend the gravity of those words.

Were you hearing him correctly?

The prince's chosen one – a title that held promises of a future you'd only dared to dream about.

"M-me? But your highness—"

Before you could say more, he closed the distance between you, bridging the gap with a soft, lingering kiss. The world seemed to stand still as your whole being surrendered to the intimacy of the moment. The taste of the unforeseen, the forbidden, lingered on your lips, leaving you breathless and bewildered.

Fluttering your eyes shut, you kissed him back. Perhaps the dreams of being his princess might not be such a distant mirage after all.

Surprise! Hope this was decent lmao.

I'm not exactly back from my hiatus yet, just felt inspired while admiring the recent concept photos. Had this drafted immediately and thought I'd just put it out.

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #choi san #ateez san #royal au #san x you #san x reader #ateez fic #san drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #choi san imagines #san imagines

732 notes · View notes

thepunchingbag · 8 months

Text

I am such a sucker for Astarion x Karlach due to multiple reasons and I am going to list a few here:

Their stories are extremely similar in terms of being forced into servitude and their bodily autonomy being fucked with, their bodies being used as objects (Karlach's body being turned into an Infernal weapon, Astarion's being turned into an Infernal ritual component and as bait for victims).

They both value freedom to an incredible degree (understandably) - Karlach seems to abandon herself in the moment while Astarion is immediately afraid this freedom will slip through his fingers.

Effeminate man with macho woman. Hot and cold. Posh and working-class. Black cat and golden retriever.

Even if they romance other people, there is an undeniable warmth between the two of them. They're going to be friends regardless.

Astarion's response when Karlach falls in battle "Karlach! You can't die - I won't let you die!" He sounds like he's WEEPING, Neil Newbon really delivers the "his heart is breaking and he's panicking" perfectly.

Her pet name for him is "leech".... just... fuckin' hell, Karlach. I love her.

They call each other "darling" unironically when romanced.

However, I definitely think Astarion can be very hurtful towards her, and his comments come from a place of vulnerability. There is SO much subtext to their relationship, and the devnotes really shows that. She offers a chance to take things slow, to remove sex from the early stages of the relationship, and he desperately wants that. He has no idea how to navigate this type of relationship, and he lashes out. I also love Karlach can push him right back ("Want to try that again without being a jackass?"/"Enough. You can't talk to me like that."). The fact he apologizes and admits he enjoys just talking with her. I dunno, like other people have said, it feels healing...

They also compliment each other's struggles since Astarion literally cannot touch her, so his usual seduction routine falls flat. Karlach is touch-starved but it's a rewarding alternative to take things slow, that she can feel a genuine connection. She's spent a decade in the Hells where genuine connections like friendships and romance are essentially a death sentence - you can never let your guard down - and now she finally can. Like, they both basically have to learn how to take things slow.

#starlach? karstarion?#astarion x karlach #karlach x astarion #black cat and golden retriever #hellspawn #karlach #karlach cliffgate #astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3

1K notes · View notes

notjustjavierpena · 10 months

Text

The Making of Ellie - Part I

A/N: This DILF!Joel piece has rotted my brain for 24 hours straight. I have had absolutely no break from thinking about this, and it’s never been easier to write something.

Summary: A look into how you and Joel’s relationship is going two years in. Joel’s POV on his never-ending love for you and his extreme baby fever.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), Joel’s POV, domesticated Joel Miller, Sarah makes an appearance!!!, tooth-rotting love and fluff, they’re crazy about each other, talk about birth control and ovulation, pussy eating (joel is a cunning linguist), fingering, bit of praise kink, dirty talk, bit of body worship, breeding kink, daddy kink (if you squint real hard), slow and sensual piv sex, intense orgasms, creampie, God they are in love

Word count: 4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051

Song inspiration(!!!): Too Lost In You by Sugababes

Baby-Making

Joel comes home from work around the same time each day now — and it’s never after dinner time. He has made it his mission to make time for Sarah and you, cut down work since you moved in, because two working adults living in the house means that he can slow things down.

His health has improved, his mood too, his fatigue has practically gone and Sarah has had more time to just be a kid, started playing soccer again, and has even taken up coaching the little league team now that she’s 16. It’s good for him. You are good for him. For both of them.

He loves it. He takes the afternoon post-work ritual very seriously. Always texts if he should pick something up from the grocery store. Sometimes brings you flowers too, remembering that one time you’d said that you didn’t actually mind the cheap cellophane-wrapped bouquets.

It’s interesting to him how natural it feels for him to slip right into domestic bliss with you because he never thought that he would get there again after Sarah’s mother. On top of it, he never considered himself a gentle thing, but after you, it’s like you kiss the calluses of him away. He is nothing but gentle now, even in his roughness.

He throws the keys onto the side table by the front door after arriving home, shrugs off his jacket, and bends down to take off his boots. The sound makes you appear in the doorway. Joel notices that you’ve changed into gray sweatpants and a tank top with a strawberry on it since arriving home, basically removed anything from you that is professional and uncomfortable. Joel loves you like this because he is the only one who gets to enjoy you like this; relaxed and beautiful, hair in a messy bun on top of your head and fuzzy socks on your always-cold feet. He smiles at your radiance, then pads across the floor to kiss you hello.

There’s something in your eyes; a flicker of mischief as you grab his wrist to look at his watch. With a grin that nearly sets his heart into overdrive, you hold his hand up so he can look at the time too.

“It’s five minutes past,” you tut.

“Right, but I got ya something,” he says, reluctantly turning away from you to rummage through his jacket pocket. He fishes out a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup and you immediately snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest.

“Gremlin,” he teases and you stick out your tongue at him, “No needa hide it. ‘S too sweet for me anyway.”

“I shall save it for later then,” you walk to the kitchen and open the top cabinet that holds the mugs. You stand on your toes to reach into the very back, shirt riding up just a little, and stash the chocolate cup for later consumption.

“Hidden from Sa-rah, the candy thief,” you purposely pronounce her name wrong for dramatic purposes. Then you lower yourself onto the soles of your feet again, not bothering to pull your top down again. Joel watches the slight reveal of the dimples on your back.

“Right,” he chuckles.

Dear Lord, he loves you so much that it is ridiculous. In a way that makes the future look better than it ever has because it’s no longer filled with uncertainty. He knows what’s going to happen; he’ll build a house for the three of you, he’ll marry you in the Texan spring and he’ll give you as many babies as you want. He’d do it all today if he could.

“How was work?” You interrupt his thoughts by wrapping your soft hands around the nape of his neck, resting them there. You have rosy cheeks, feel warm against his skin, with love radiating from your fingertips.

“Good, told Tommy to handle the next few clients. Some hotshot guy comin’ into the office tomorrow,” Joel tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. He thinks that you don’t actually care about any of this, but there’s no indication of boredom on your face.

“He building a castle or something?” You ask.

“Somethin’ like that. Guy’s filthy rich but not from his own doin’, looking at blueprints at the end of the week. Should be interesting,” he continues, “Not that you care about that.”

“I do actually like hearing about your job,” you kiss him on the lips, peck them repeatedly until he cannot help himself and lifts you up to hug you tight. His arms rest along your back and his hands on your sides, fingers sprawled out underneath where your bra had been in the morning. You must’ve taken it off too. He loves you comfortable.

“You just love my hands,” he retorts, nose against your cheek, “Don’t deny it. I see right through ya.”

“It’s definitely not completely wrong,” you admit when he sets you down again.

You walk back to the kitchen, too tempted by the knowledge of what is in your kitchen cabinet. You only take half, proclaiming some bullshit that you have to watch out for your blood sugar since one can never know when it’s going to get you.

Joel rolls his eyes, following you, “I can give ya some sugar.”

“Joel Miller!” You pretend to look shocked. He tastes the peanut butter in your mouth, pushes you against the counter.

“Gross,” a teenage girl’s voice says.

“Oh right, Sarah’s home,” you announce sheepishly.

Joel pulls away to look at his daughter, “Hey kiddo. How was school?”

“You don’t care about that,” she smirks, “But if you must know, it was fine. No homework.”

“That don’t sound like Mrs. uhhh…”

“Green, it’s Ms. Green, Dad,” Sarah says dramatically as she moves across the floor to put on shoes. Her tone turns taunting, “Go ahead and make out with your girlfriend. I’m going to soccer practice.”

“Have fun, Sarah! We’ll have dinner ready,” you chime in.

“See ya, honey.”

The door closes behind her. The house grows quiet for a moment, but then the mischief is back in your eyes, “She’s seeing a boy.”

Joel nearly gets whiplash, not sure why his pulse spikes. He trusts his daughter to make good decisions and has taught her how since she was just a baby, “Nah, she ain’t. Just said she’s going to soccer practice.”

“Joel,” you sigh loudly, “It’s Tuesday.”

“So?”

“She has practice on Thursdays.”

“Christ,” he runs a hand over his stubble, tries to keep his composure, and ignores the urge to send her a text.

“But you know what?” You’re back in his personal space, tugging at his arms to make him hold you close again, “Such a fun coincidence. I’m also seeing a boy.”

Joel can feel the tension seeping out of him in an instant.

“Really? ‘Cause I’m seein’ a girl. She’s real pretty,” he wishes that he could show his past self how tooth-rottingly sweet he is being with you because he’d hate it. Though if past-Joel found out who he was treating like this, he’d instantly become a goner just like present-Joel is now.

“‘S her sweet tooth, unhinged behavior that I love the most though,” he continues.

You whine in his arms, lean your head back and it earns you a kiss on your neck, “Don’t be like that. Not when I’m ovulating. I’ll climb you like a tree.”

Oh.

It may seem innocent but Joel knows this is how you play dirty. It suddenly explains a lot. The sweatpants, the rosy cheeks, the way you glow, no bra, the cravings, why Joel wants you so bad.

Joel wouldn’t say that he is controlled by biology, and he hates the men trying to argue their way out of acting like cavemen. But looking at you right now in your stupid strawberry tank top, knowing that you’re horny and ready because your body wants to make him a daddy... Joel’s head swims.

Something shifts in the air. You can see it on him, but Joel assumes that you wait for him to act on whatever is bubbling up in his chest and below his belt.

And act, he does. He distracts you with deep, long kisses until he can snatch you up from the ground and carry you upstairs. You squeak out a giggle but don’t fight back, enjoying the freedom of being alone with him.

“That’s why you’re so fucking sexy,” Joel says after placing you on your shared bed. He is already shedding himself of his shirt, undressing hurriedly to get close to your skin with his own as quickly as possible.

You crawl back on the bed, untying the strings of your sweatpants and yanking them down your legs. You match his urgency, but still decide to tease him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Shut your mouth,” he yanks the rest of your pants off as soon as he is naked in front of you. He throws them in the pile of his own clothes, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, dirty girl.”

You’re just about to take your top off before Joel stops you with a hand curled around the hem. He knows you’re sensitive at this point in your cycle, but it’s not why he wants to keep it on, “I love how cute you are in this shirt. Keep it on like this.”

He crawls properly onto the bed to demonstrate and tugs the shirt up over your tits so he can still see the stupid animated fruit on the front. Afterward, he tugs your panties down your legs and off your feet. He will swear to a higher power that he can even smell it on you, sweet like strawberries and honey between your legs and it makes him feel like an animal.

He has had baby fever for a while now, even told you his plans on giving you a whole bunch of babies and you’ve merely giggled at him, especially when he told you that twins don’t run in his family, but he is sure that nature will give him a whole litter with you.

“Want me to eat you out?” He asks to which you whimper and nod. He doesn’t give you what you want right then and there, instead climbs up to cradle your head in his hands and gives you a long, slow kiss. He sucks on your tongue, hums into your mouth, and gets you worked up and wet before he’ll treat you right.

“Tell me,” he says when he breaks the kiss, nosing along the bunched-up fabric of his new favorite top of yours. He sucks at the skin between your breasts, places open-mouthed kisses along the swell of the left whilst cupping the right.

“I want you to eat my pussy,” you moan softly, running a hand over his hair as he licks a nipple. You slide your fingers into it, but you don’t tug at it unless you feel like you need to hold onto it for dear life.

“God, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he growls before going further down your body, his spit leaving a shine where his mouth has been, “Can’t believe I own these tits.”

He goes further down, lets out a satisfied noise when he can see between your legs, “—and this pussy.”

“Yes, it’s yours, fuck, baby,” you sound delirious already, happy and eager to be touched, on the verge of a giggle even, “Joel, need your mou—“

You gasp loudly into the quiet bedroom. Joel has covered you with his mouth, eyes almost rolling back into his skull at the taste of your ripe cunt. He is too lost in you, a complete idiot with how head over heels he is for you, and he shows it by devouring you like he is starved.

“Baby!” You cry out, sensitive, “Fuuuck— just like that!”

He watches your thighs twitch in his peripheral, holds you down by placing a strong hand just below your belly button, and uses his thumb on said hand to pull the hood of your clit back. He sucks the little now-hard nub into his mouth, sending you into a state where he is unsure if you can even sense the sheets underneath you. If you had superpowers, he surely would’ve made you lift off the bed as if you were possessed.

He bobs his head a little, probably looking obscene as he hums against your clit and wiggles his head too. He looks up at you through his lashes, sees the red flush on your chest, and knows that you are close. Christ, he hasn’t been this into someone before.

“I’m gonna— you’re gonna make me—“ you say like always, announcing your departure from reality. He keeps going, feeling your stomach jump in a stuttering manner underneath his palm with how uneven your breathing has become.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” You sob with a yank of Joel’s hair and suddenly your thighs are shaking violently without your control. Joel can feel you coming before you announce it, your cunt clenching rapidly against his lips and your clit pulsing in his mouth as he sucks your folds into his mouth. You taste so good as a gush on slick smears his lips and chin even more. He laps it up.

You push him away when he gets too much, and he turns his head to kiss your inner thigh. You finally release the giggle that you’ve been suppressing, drunk on dopamine and Joel falls in love with you a bit more.

“You’re fucking incredible,” you say. The hand in his hair slides down so you can affectionately run your knuckles over his cheek. He responds by gently rubbing your thighs, soothing you on top of putting such strain on your heart and your breath. You hum, “I love you so much.”

Without warning, he smacks your thigh and you sit up straight. He grins, “Love ya too, sweetheart. Think you can give me one more before I fuck ya?”

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” You ask genuinely as you lower onto your back again.

“Wanna fuck a baby into you,” he replies, voice an octave lower than normal. He senses your shiver without having to look at your face, “Please. Wanna get her red and puffy so it fucking sticks.”

You let out an involuntary moan at the idea. You want this as much as him, he hopes, and he slides two fingers into your neglected pussy whilst he waits for the green light to fill you up. He crooks them upwards, fingers the spongy spot that only seems to have been discovered by him, “Lemme in. Lemme come in you.”

You’ve been off the pill for a while with the reasoning that it wasn’t doing any good for your body. Joel had stocked up on condoms since then, actually filled the top drawer of his nightstand to the brim because honey, we’re young and healthy, red-blooded Americans. But it had planted the idea in his mind that he could potentially knock you up, and suddenly the stash of condoms was being used rapidly.

“Okay,” you say with a half-moan, “Fuck, okay.”

Joel immediately sits up on his knees, still fucking you open on his hand. You squirm underneath his touch, trying to get a hold of your breathing this time, holding eye contact with him as he drags another orgasm from you.

It is much less hurried and a lot more intense, muscles clamping down on his digits rhythmically as you bite your lip and close your eyes with a soft gasp. He can’t decide if he finds this more sexy.

“Did you mean it?” He asks as he trails kisses up your belly. He kneels between your legs and places an elbow on either side of your chest so he can hold both your breasts in his hands. He squeezes them together, sucks on a nipple until you sigh deeply, and then watches them bounce back into place.

“Yes,” you say and your voice doesn’t sound unsure at all, “Fuck yes, I want your babies. Wanted them since I saw you. Want you to make me a mommy.”

“The prettiest momma out there,” he says, euphoria evident on his face. He slides his arms underneath you, rests his head on your breasts, and hugs you close to his chest, “Wanna fuck ya.”

“Please,” you say softly, spreading your legs open for him but he has other plans. He releases you from his arms to sit up again, spreading his knees a little. His hands wrap around your ankles to lift your legs up onto his shoulders, your feet behind his ears. He leans over you afterward and bends your flexible legs backward until the front of his thighs are against the back of yours. He can go deep like this, fill you up with his come how he has wanted to for months.

He takes hold of his cock, eases it inside of your spent and warm cunt inch by inch. You feel incredible around his dick without a piece of rubber separating the two of you. He can feel the head of his dick nudge at your cervix, moaning quietly as he is engulfed by your wet, pulsating heat.

“How are you still so fucking tight?” He groans, resting his forehead against your calf as he gives you a moment to adjust to the stretch. He knows he is big, gets a thrill out of how well you take him each time as if you were made specifically for him. There had been one time where he’d called you a trooper, and you had laughed so hard with his dick inside you that it had made him come.

“You feel so big like this,” you say as you look down between the two of you, already sounding out of breath. Joel kisses your calf repeatedly and softly, trying to soothe your overwhelmed body.

“Goddamn. You’re so sexy,” he praises, placing both hands on the sides of your head so he is hovering above you. He finds your hazy eyes, “Look at you.”

He gives an experimental roll of his hips that makes you whimper, both hands reaching for the backs of his knees. You hold onto him, staring up into his eyes with that siren-like look in them, and then you moan softly.

Joel starts fucking you desperately at that. He doesn’t hurry though, keeps his hips’ movements slow and sensual to have you moaning and gasping ever so slightly at the intensity. He knows he could just give in and fuck you rough and fast, but the heavy-lidded gaze that you are giving him with your mouth hanging open is too good to spoil.

“Joel,” you cry but it’s barely audible compared to what he sometimes drags from you. He can feel your nails dig into the flexing muscles of his thighs, creating half-moon shapes in the flesh. He switches to a rocking motion, and it sends your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You moan with your bottom lip between your teeth, “Mhm—“

“I know, baby, let it out,” he can see your pulse jumping wildly underneath the sensitive skin of your neck, feeling the heat of his orgasm pool at the base of his spine. He needs to be closer to you.

“Lift your legs down to the sides,” he tells you gently, thrusts coming to a halt and him realizing that you’ve heard absolutely nothing. He repeats himself, waits for you to follow his instructions, and then hooks his arms underneath your knees.

Joel gets closer to you by resting his weight on his elbows, his own body on top of your slightly contorted one. You reach for him, grabby hands in the air until he allows himself to be pulled in for a kiss. You cradle his face, make him feel safe in your arms.

“I love you, baby,” he breathes deeply. The new position gives him an opportunity to reach deeper inside of you, and it’s accompanied by each upward snap of his pelvis causing his cockhead to push into your g-spot. It makes it difficult for you to continue kissing him, eventually simply breathing into his mouth as he has you speared on his dick. Never once do you let go of his face, thumbs on his cheekbones, and tip of your nose against his.

“I love you,” you whisper, unable to catch your breath. Joel can feel your walls flutter around his dick, threatening to pull his own climax from him too soon. You pant, eyes burning, “You— baby, shit… you’re gonna make me come.”

“Yeah?” He speeds up a little, carding a hand through your hair and gently tugging on the bun. He coaxes you, “Gonna milk my cock into you? Make me a daddy?”

“Yeah,” you whimper wantonly, tightening your legs into his sides as you try moving with him, “Yeah, baby. Gonna make you a daddy! Fuckfuckfuck. Ah— I’m, I—“

Joel doesn’t know if he’s ever made you come like this; without all the muscle and rough touches, without the fast-paced snaps of his hips and the foul taunting from his mouth of how dirty you are. But come you do, with your brows furrowed, gaze on his and a controlled breathing that suddenly becomes erratic and uneven after you let out a high-pitched cry.

“That’s it,” he admires you, “So good f’me.”

You clamp down on his cock so hard that he sees stars, fucks you through each convulsion of your cunt. His mouth drips with filth as he works himself toward his own pleasure, “You make me so fucking horny, baby. Wanna knock— ngh, wanna knock this pretty pussy up all the time. Give ya a whole fuckin’ litter.”

He tips over the edge not long after, heart pounding in his chest and the sensation in his balls tightening. He releases with a groan, settles deep inside of you to make sure he doesn’t waste a single drop. His orgasm pulses through his cock, swirls in his belly, and warms the small of his back.

“Fuuuck,” he pants. He carefully removes his arms from underneath your legs before he collapses, allowing you to stretch out underneath him. You look completely fucked out, gasping feebly as he teasingly gives you another thrust before pulling out.

You wrap your arms around him as he falls onto you, nose against the shell of his ear. He can barely lift his head when you speak, humming into your neck that vibrates as you talk, “You think other people have sex this good?”

“Nah, ‘s why everyone is so fuckin’ miserable, why they gotta build mansions with their parents’ money,” he murmurs.

“Stop thinking about the hotshot client in bed,” you tease as you cradle his head in your arms, lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. It seems you cannot get close enough, “You should only think about sticky, sweaty me.”

Joel finds that he doesn’t care about sticky, sweaty skin and you feeling like a furnace after three orgasms. He lays with you like this for a while, sure that you’ve drifted off to sleep at one point, until you push at his shoulder, voice back to your normal pitch as the post-orgasmic bliss has faded slowly, “Gotta pee.”

“Sure,” he rolls off of you. The sight of your waddle to the bathroom makes him smile, eyes following the way the fleshiest part of your ass and thighs jiggle with each step.

When you’ve closed the door behind you, Joel finds the strength to rid the bed of the dirty sheets and start dressing again. He’ll have a shower before bed, he decides, ignoring the sensitivity of sliding on boxers and jeans again.

Hurriedly, he bounces down the stairs to the kitchen. He gets the rest of your peanut butter cup, places it on the nightstand with your clothes right beside it.

He checks the time. There’s no point in trying to cook something up for dinner if Sarah is home from ‘practice’ soon, so he goes down into the kitchen to order pizza, heart thrumming in his chest as he hears you shout a thank you from upstairs at the discovery of the other half of your favorite snack. He is happy. So so happy.

Especially as he writes ‘pregnancy test’ into his Notes app shopping list.

@elissaaa @queerponcho @casa-boiardi @gracieispunk @hiddenbabynyc @hopelessromantic727 @livingdeadmaria @its-nebuleuse @milly-louise @cool-iguana @pawnshopbluess222 @joeldjarin @queenbrownie18 @scarletsloveletter @ladyburberry @swiftsgirlfriend @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sunnywithachanceofjavi @strang3lov3 @hellishjoel @toxicanonymity

Join my taglist

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel x reader #joel x you #tlou hbo #my writing #dilf!joel

1K notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 2 months

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

16K notes · View notes

aphrogeneias · 8 months

Text

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 — mutual masturbation

pairing: roommate!eddie munson x reader (modern!au)

The thin walls of your apartment were to blame for your predicament.

You could hear everything going on in Eddie's room. When talked to himself sometimes, his loud music, his acoustic guitar jams, his late night Dungeons and Dragons sessions with his friends. You didn't mind, not really. It was endearing, most of the time.

It was only ever bad when he touched himself.

At first, you were mortified. You couldn't sleep, trying to read at least one chapter of a book to see if it would tire your eyes out, when you heard whimpers coming to the next room. You thought it was your imagination, or maybe Eddie had gotten hurt, maybe he was having a nightmare.

Your doubts were extinguished when the moans came. He was loud. You should have imagined, with the way Eddie was normally. Everything about him was loud, of course he'd be loud in bed. He whimpered, moaned and gasped, unabashedly.

You were mortified, but that shame quickly turned into curiosity.

During the day, you thought about what he'd look like. His hair a dark halo on his messy pillows, dark eyes blown out with desire, pretty face flushed pink. You'd always thought Eddie was painfully pretty, but now you couldn't stop thinking about him. About his big hand tugging on his cock, his lean body covered in sweat. Did he keep his rings on or did he take them off?

Every night, you followed the same ritual. Listen in and, having abandoned your guilt days before, dip your hand under your sleep shorts, knowing you'd remove it soon after. You fingered yourself to no relief, rubbing your clit following the rhythm of his moans. You grabbed your pillow with desperation, mounting it and trying to ease the throbbing, hot feeling between your legs. You bit into another pillow to try to hide your own moans, gasping and whimpering into it, imagining it was your roommate under you.

You wondered if he could hear you anyway. If he could hear the buzzing of your vibrator in the nights you'd bring it out, if he could hear your moans despite your best efforts to hide them. Deep down, you wanted him to. You wanted him to hear how wet you got, the slick sounds of your pussy, dripping just for him.

(What you didn't know was that he did. He hoped for it every day, watching you around the house in your cute sweaters and tiny shorts, feeling as guilty as you did about listening into your nightly activities. He wished you'd be louder, he wished he could pull those cute sounds from you. He got himself a fleshlight just to imagine it was you, riding him with reckless abandon, your cute face scrunched in pleasure. He could almost feel you.

Eddie could put an end to both of your miseries if he'd just got over himself and knocked on your door — but this? This would do for now.)

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #kinktober 2023

866 notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 2 months

Text

Sometimes greedy gambits do work out.

Your typical greedy fiend may wax about their insatiable desire for the material, how satisfaction is the death of their nature and never shall they cease stretching their fingers towards the next shining trophy-

But they know limits.

They have that little bit of normalcy that tells them when it's time to drop something, even if it leaves a taste like curdled milk in their mouths.

Not Xiko.

Xiko grabbed onto something and he did not let go.

Not even when death came knocking at his door.

This celebrity of the Greed Ring was known for being the biggest, most successful human/monster trafficker of Hell itself. Xiko, a mere mid-ranker, yet clever and crafty enough to dethrone nearly everyone in his field of vile work.

Wanted humans and monsters worth owning? In mint condition? With some really rare traits? Leave it to him and his boys, you won't be disappointed.

With great skill and talent comes great danger, but Xiko didn't cower when he started to gain many an enemy, when he could no longer count them, when he spent most of his time hunting them down rather than hunting the poor souls he's supposed to sell. With each visit, he'd return home with a few trophies to remember his victory.

Things were going well.

His empire of fifth kept growing, enough so that it garnered the attention of the very Lord Rinx, a client Xiko both reveres and dreads, due to his extravagant tastes. Why, he ever earned himself a juicy deal with this strange, extremely popular establishment on the surface that constantly bulk-orders humans. The Clergy's Eye or something of the sort, he knows the Icons had been there before.

How impressive is that? Enough for prideful folk to eye him wantonly.

Xiko had the opportunity to grow in rank, to sit at Rinx's table and negotiate starting a little jewelry store in the heart of Greed to keep up appearances and branch out. What luxuries.

Unfortunately, all highs lead to lows.

His health starts deteriorating inexplicably. Xiko begins being unable to move properly without chronic bursts of pain debilitating him from doing much of anything other than lie and wait for the wave of torment to pass. He has no idea where it's coming from. The pain is so great he gets blinded and passes out in some episodes.

The best doctors he can find tell Xiko he developed something terminal. Not quite a cancer, similar, something only demonoids can exhibit.

But what did the name of it matter? His own monumental riches wouldn't save him from certain doom.

One might think Xiko would do some soul searching with the time he had left, as laughable as that sounds for a being as rotten as him.

Not even close.

You don't get this far without being stubborn.

Things can't end as they are. Xiko can't die, he has so much to do and so much to oversee, it's simply not an option. He can't.

In the midst of despair and hopeless solution-seeking, Xiko finds a possible answer to his impossible conundrum inscripted in his most favored trophy, a timeless chalice.

Between its jewels and lovely finishes, the instructions for a ritual sat written in one of the oldest tongues in Hell. Having a historian for a friend sure comes in handy, doesn't it?

Said acquaintance is there to witness it when Xiko grows mad enough to try it, at the hands of demons who perpetuate these ancient practices.

A mummification-like ritual.

Except, to avoid death, Xiko must remove the two organs which the soul is most connected to, the brain and heart.

He knew what he was getting into when he laid on that altar.

He knew that he would suffer physical trauma beyond anything he could ever have experienced in life. He knew he would come out of it looking like a completely different being. That he would no longer be a demon.

And he was ready.

He was ready when they started chanting.

He was ready when his jaw was stretched to absurd proportions.

He was ready when his chest was torn open.

When he danced in that barrier between life and death, looking down at himself while his figure withered and contorted.

Those memories are... Scratchy, to say the least.

Xiko recalls screaming at the top of his exposed lungs and feeling his skin rip from several sides all at once, as if rejecting him. He remembers when his skull was crushed and how he could hear it for a moment. He knows he twisted and shriveled like a bug on that marble.

And that he woke up.

Wrapped like a present.

Dead yet amongst the living.

To continue his work. To remain forever at the top.

So what if he was emaciated now? If he'd never get rid of the massive scar where his figure was torn open, if his eyes now reside inside his bizarre gaping maw and his arms are elongated? Xiko had made it.

And while death was unavoidable, it was not the end.

In fact, it was the beginning of something a lot more amusing for Xiko.

He found his new appearance frightened his competition. Rumors of him being an undead diety spread. No longer featuring a core name or even something as simple as a sigil, Xiko was freed of even more weaknesses.

He made no effort to hide what he had become the next time he was present at Greed's Conqueror's Spoils festival. His mangled, infernal undead form on the spotlight.

Some of them were smart enough to understand what he had turned into, knew to stop pursuing him. For when you take something from a mummy, it cannot rest until it retrieves its possession.

Others came to find that out eventually.

Perhaps the person Xiko feels most sorry for is, not one of his enemies, but you.

You poor thing, still trying to escape him, still trying to lockpick your cages and manipulate his men, trying to make it out at all costs.

You never think twice when you set foot outside his territory.

Unaware that he'll always instinctively know where to find his "stolen" possession.

#Xiko oc #demon oc #monster oc #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia #monster x reader #yandere demon #monster boyfriend #monsterfucker #minors dni #pinnie's art

294 notes · View notes

nikethestatue · 3 months

Text

Just a thought. What if Azriel doesn't want anyone to 'handle his darkness'? What if he wants to come home, and have dinner with his girl, and be as far removed from the reality of swords and fights and spying and training, as possible.

What if he wants Light? What if the conversations about flowers and gardens, about baking, and strolling through the streets of Velaris and finding a great cup of hot chocolate are exactly what he adores?

What if it's about reading books and talking about them, and flying into the mountains to watch the sunset? What if it's about watching his girl with a smudge of flour on her cheek? What if it's about soft dresses of cotton and linen and velvet and not Illyrian leathers? What if it's about delicate collarbones, and luminous brown eyes and pretty necklaces and a gold ring on the finger?

What if it's the rituals of homelife for him and not about someone 'handling his darkness'? What if it's coffee and the paper in the morning, and family dinners, and celebrating all the holidays and teaching his girl about the customs and the tidings of her new life? What if it's about soft pillows and a freshly laundered blanket and a cold night? A bird's song that wakes him up in the morning? A tender kiss on his temple? What if it's about dancing until the wee hours of the morning? Going to concerts and listening to songs while star gazing?

What if it's holding hands, brushing fingers, exchanging glances, smiles and soft kisses no matter how much time's passed?

What if Azriel doesn't need a Valkyrie, a shieldmaiden, and someone who saw him at his worst? What if he wants exactly the opposite? Someone who'll give him light and love, and would handle his in return?

What if this is what Azriel wants?

#elriel #pro elriel #azriel and elain #elain x azriel

338 notes · View notes

moviestarmartini · 14 days

Text

everyone's a winner — jude bellingham x wag!reader x brahim díaz

summary: your boyfriends, both laliga winners and champions league finalists, demand a reward out of you for their two excellent performances in less than a week.

warnings: nsfw (18+ minors dni), prestablished!brahim x reader (they were dating before jude joined in), jealous!jude, mostly mean dom!jude, soft dom!brahim, oral (m & f receiving), voyeur-ish, unprotected sex (sounds fun but don't!!!), creampie, porn with a lil bit of plot.

wc: 2.1k

A/N: finally did something with these two GAHHHH sorry for any antis that are jude girlies, this is filled with luvvv for my club 😛

The last five days had been insane.

Starting out on the first Saturday of the month, having to sit around with the entirety of Real Madrid and their families in the Bernabeu’s VIP seats to practice ‘hate watching’ was something you’d ever expected to do. But there you sat pretty next to your official boyfriend, the unofficial one— so to say, was talking to his mother.

The moment the final whistle rang it felt like the match had been won by them, not Girona. Before you could even breathe out a sigh of happiness, Brahim was swiping you off your feet kissing you with fervor. A familiar tickle in the bottom of your tummy surfaced.

You watched happily as the team celebrated, taking pictures of both the men who stole your heart. You took a couple pictures with Brahim at the empty stadium, on the grass. Everyone laughed off the way Jude sprinted to your side and held you tight as there were pictures of only the three of you taken. No one but him knew it was a move made out of jealousy.

But that was it for that day, heading to the comfort of your shared home as rest had been set mandatory.

On Tuesday morning you drove them both to Valdebebas, each getting a kiss on the forehead as a wife would give her soldier husband heading for war, since you knew you wouldn’t see them after the semi-final match was over. The next almost hundred minutes were cardiac arrest worthy. The VIP sections full of family, friends and special guests suffered through every second and emotion– the euphoria exploding when the two goals imminently arrived– waiting painfully for the final whistle to be blown. Then another considerable amount of time waiting patiently for the players to finish interviews and change into regular clothes.

You stood marveling at the empty stadium, similar to Jude’s pre-match ritual. But he wasn’t the one who practically tackled you off your feet, hugging you from behind.

“Brahim!” You giggled as he put you down, turning around to give him a giant squeeze. You didn’t notice the pair of jealous eyes observing you carefully from the tunnel as you took pictures before exiting, his hand on yours, one of the last couples to do so.

“Where are we going, amor?” You laughed as you ran through the tunnels of the Bernabeu being practically dragged by him. He took a turn to the left, instead of the right to head out to the underground parking lots. He kissed you, and you knew you were stumbling into the empty locker room by the way your steps echoed.

“Brahim…” You sighed as he leaned in to kiss your neck, taking slow steps towards his station, the light of the name cards above were the only thing guiding your steps.

“No one’s going to catch us. Everyone’s going home.” He whispered against the skin, clutching you tight as your knees came in contact with the bench, forcing you to take a seat.

“Exactly, what if we’re locked in here forever?” You tried counterarguing, only for the rational thoughts to turn to mush when his hand pulled your shirt out of the tuck of your bottoms and cupped your breasts.

“You don’t think winners deserve a prize? First LaLiga title, now we’ve passed on to the final.” He removed the white top, throwing it somewhere in the room as his kisses descended down your torso. He placed open mouth kisses where the midi slip skirt started, slowly tugging it down.

Your fingers sneaked on his hair, back arching. “That’s what I thought.” He knew the context clues of your body too well. “Déjame probarte, princesa. That’s the best prize anyone could ever get.” He breathed against the soaked piece of underwear, and you raised your hips to help him slide it down to rest at your ankles. He parted your knees, placing open mouth kisses as he made way to your sopping cunt, his tongue pressing flat.

“Hm you taste so good,” He practically moaned against your core before fully indulging in it. In no time he was slipping two fingers past your entrance, working wonders with them and his tongue flicking the swollen nub. It was enough for both of you not to notice the lights turning on and staying that way before someone cleared their throat.

“Having fun without me?”

The voice made you both freeze. Your stomach tightened as you feared to look who did that voice belong to, but your eyes met a pair of brown eyes with a defiant look placed on them.

“No, go ahead. I’ll just make myself welcome,” He incited, taking slow cautious steps towards you both. “You don’t want to keep our baby unsatisfied?” He cooed, petting Brahim’s hair, the hand on your jaw forcing you to look up at him before he crashed his lips into yours. You sighed in relief feeling Brahim resume his actions, they were quick, good enough for that tension to build on your lower stomach.

Jude took your hand, parting away from your lips. “That show you two were putting on got me like this,” He puckered out his lips as your hand grazed his bulge. Your mouth watered as he kneeled on the bench, tugging teasingly at the drawstrings of his sweatpants before lowering them. “Where’s my prize, huh? I’m a winner too, remember?”

Then, you easily understood the glances Jude often gave the two of you as you interacted in public, in front of the cameras. He burned with jealousy at the reality of being unable to show the world how he loved sharing you with his teammate, your only boyfriend at first.

Brahim looked up at you, giving you a nod of approval. It was just a way to encourage you; you didn’t need permission to please Jude, not when he was part of the relationship.

You cupped his boner over the black underwear, pulling down at it sweetly. Not wasting any time, you told a hold of his hard cock with your manicured fingers, tongue sticking out to lick the glossy drops that leaked from his tip. You watched as he threw his head back with a groan when you wrapped your lips around his tip.

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” He praised, turning his head down to watch you take his length inside your mouth, the bit you couldn’t fit getting stroked by your hand once you started bobbing your head, searching to hear those groans loaded with both praise and degradation.

“She’s getting wetter from giving you head, mate,” Brahim tore himself away from your cunt to give out the fact with a snicker, your juices rolling down the short stubble on his chin. The chuckle both men shared felt sinister, Jude’s hand settling in the back of your head to give support to your pace, similar to the way Brahim’s fingers hooked to hit that spongy spot over and over again.

“Cum for us, amor, do it.” Brahim breathed out, knowing that the way your calves shivered and your fingers dug into his scalp only signified one thing. Your moans and cries were muffled by Jude’s cock still stuffed down your mouth, soon being torn away from it and being pulled into yet another kiss.

Brahim sat next to you on the bench, following after Jude’s lead while you continued to stroke him. He broke the kiss, nudging you to kiss your boyfriend, and you did it without a hitch. The way you could taste yourself on him was intoxicating, and the way Jude pulled you in for another sloppy kiss hinted that he could agree, too.

“You’re mine too, you hear me?” He whispered, the short hairs on his chin tickling the skin of your cheek.

“Why do you give Judy a ride, princesa?” Brahim almost interrupted, coercing you with a sweet voice to your ear, soft lips kissing at your jaw.

“I think that’s not enough for a prize. Let’s not use a condom,” Jude whispered in your left ear, a teasing hand caressing your inner thigh. Your legs parted, eliciting a humiliating reaction out of the men, who snickered between themselves. Their voices felt like having an angel and a devil on each of your shoulders, inviting you to different decisions with a similar outcome.

“Yeah, let’s do both,” You affirmed with a breathy voice, and without effort Jude took you off the bench to place you on his lap. He didn’t even have to ask you to help him, as you reached down to line him with your entrance, both sighing in relief once he was all the way in.

“Don’t just sit there.” Jude reprimanded you as you finished getting used to the stretch, wrapping your hair in his fist and tugging you back ever so slightly. You yelped, taking the order and shifting your hips, starting to ride him.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Brahim praised you with a coo, watching as you tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. He helped you out, pulling them down before you started to stroke him. He didn’t even realize how pent up he was, a flush running up his neck and up his cheeks.

You tried to match the movement of your legs to your hand, bouncing on Jude’s cock at the same pace you jerked Brahim off.

“I think he’s going to need more than that, sweetheart,” Jude tutted, and you wondered if they communicated telephonically as Brahim stood up. You took his hard cock in your mouth without much complaint— actually melting as you sucked, eyes falling shut— while Jude’s grip on your hair controlled the pace.

“Let me help you out,” Jude ran a soothing hand on your knee, propping himself up on his heels before he started thrusting upwards. “Fuuuck you’re squeezing me so tight, love.” A groan left the back of his throat, and he could tell you were close.

His hand reached around to toy with your clit, and that was more than enough to tip you over the edge, thighs shivering. Your moans were tucked away behind your tongue as it happened earlier. The squeeze your walls gave him seemed to be more than enough to tip him over the edge, ropes of white coating your insides.

He pulled out, but the adjustment time was minimal, “I need to cum too, love.” Brahim explained with a soft voice as Jude tore you away from him, making your head rest on his shoulder. “Please, let me…”

You knew very well what he was requesting, and with a hazy smile you nodded. He kissed your neck as he crouched down a little before pushing himself in, groaning at the initial resistance you presented to the penetration due to your recent orgasm.

“Oh, baby,” You cried out, Jude’s grip in your hair turning into a soothing hand on your cheek.

“You’ve been doing so good for us, darling. C’mon,” The British national praised softly, a nod from Brahim confirming his statement.

You were still sitting on his lap, but sandwiched between his chest and Brahim’s.

The pressure from being between them only furthered that state of haziness your mind found itself in, sweat rolling down your forehead as your boyfriend seemed to be edging on to yet another release.

“Brahim, baby, I’m not going to last long.” You warned, and he kissed your cheek quickly.

“Me neither princesa, with the way you’re squeezing me…” He managed to breathe out, Jude reaching out to brush the sweaty hair off his forehead.

“Your legs are shivering, you wanna cum?” Jude mocked you, his fingers yet again pressed on that swollen nub in a way that made your back arch. “Cum for your winners, baby. Do it.” He commanded, and it’s not like you’ve ever not obliged to his instructions.

You panted out both their names as you chased your last high, good enough to make your toes curl and your eyes water.

“Mierda, joder—“ Brahim cursed, holding onto your upper thighs and gripping them as his own orgasm caught up to him. He pulled out, collapsing next to the two of you on the bench. You threw your legs to rest on his lap as the three of you sat there, catching your breaths.

“Dinner at ours?” You asked Jude, brushing his eyebrows into place. Brahim kissed your calf gently.

“You bet,” He kissed your cheek loudly.

The video of him and Brahim with their windows rolled down, shouting with the fans while you drove the BMW became viral in a matter of hours. Thank god no one knew why you three were the last to leave the stadium, and why the two teammates were leaving together in the first place.

It had happened too many times for it to be questioned, anyway.

#𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼✽ — writing !#jude bellingham #brahim diaz #jude bellingham x y/n #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #brahim diaz x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football x reader

204 notes · View notes