#Ume x Reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yangcherie · 4 months

Text

mating season

𐀔 pairings: astarion x reader. karlach x reader. halsin x reader. background cast (wyll, shadowheart, lae’zel, gale) x reader. background rolan x tav.

𐀔 content warnings: tiefling!tav, LITERALLY PWP, alcoholic consumption, brief sexual memory (halsin), heavy petting, noncon to dubcon (with astarion only), slight slutshaming, oral (f!receiving), mentions of breeding, afab anatomy but g/n pronouns. astarion is very slightly, slighty mean, up to you if he is ascended or not.

𐀔 sypnosis: you, a tiefling, go through your first heat cycle around your companions. some are willing to either indulge you or take advantage of you.

𐀔 author’s note: hoppinh on the bandwagon of tieflings having heat / rut cycles. astarion, briefly halsin, ROLAN and karlach get some action, teehee. and don't worry. everyone is a pervert and thinks about it. everyone will get a chance. someday. merry christmas!!

The first thing everyone wakes up to is heat. Sweltering, palpable heat, pervading the air up to the point it felt like it was trying to smother them, casting annoying, relentless burnishes of perspiration on their skin.

It couldn’t be the sun, no. The warmth felt too close, within of reach – but even then, it was no lively and unextinguished campfire, no engine out of hand nestled within Karlach, Shadowheart concluded.

They’d all been taking turns the entire morning seeking cold relief in the stream. Thankfully, as the day prevailed, the sun was no longer so glaring, the heatwave lessening by a tad bit, the rest of the party excluding a certain Ravenguard had found it now bearable.

It wasn’t until Wyll was fed up with the sweat that would inevitably come no matter how much he wiped at it, marching towards where it felt most blistering, most fervent; the intense source.

It had led him to your tent — and without doubt, the demon believed the source was your tent; your fucking otherworldy furnace of a tent. Even as he stood from outside, the heat was practically choking him. He wouldn’t be surprised if he took a look inside and finds out you, little fiend you, stuffed the entire Nine Hells inside. And take a look inside he does, peeling away the entrance, a delirious but polite request to turn down the heat ready on his tongue —

But it isn’t the Nine Hells’ heat and musk that slaps him to his face, to his utter surprise.

It’s you; trembling, flushed raw and in all of your fiendish glory, naked. Tail loud and thumping on the floor as your whimpers permeate through the air, legs spread and — No!

Somewhere in the back of his horned head, he wonders if it’s the heat, the shock, or simply his building arousal that has rendered him stuck to his position. It takes Wyll all his strength he can muster to tear his eyes away; what was he doing? He was intruding on your tent— your privacy! How could he forget basic etiquette, so much for being a noble-!

(Without a doubt, he’s ruined his chance of any traditional courtship.)

“Sorry.” The Blade himself awkwardly coughs before pushing himself out of your tent with an inhuman force, slamming the fabric entrance shut and tripping on his own two feet on the way out. “It’s Tav!” He shouts, sprinting with little idea on where to; the heat is unbearable and by the gods, he isn’t so sure anymore if it was coming from your tent or if it was simply his body. His commotion with Tav gathers the attention and eyes of his fellow companions, and it is both Karlach and Shadowheart that push at him to settle him down.

“Hey, hey. Calm down, you!” Karlach, ever the concerned companion with her furrowed brows, assures him like steed. “Tav, you mentioned?” Shadowheart, upon quick confirmation that he was not injured, is quick to coax him for answers of his behavior. He’s a bit mortified as his little flustered fit had everyone around him.

“Tav, they’re– get this–” Wyll swallows, tense with the image of you squirming and dripping still on the front of his mind. “T-they’re hot.”

It’s a dreadful thing, he realizes later a split second more than he’d like, the silence that follows. Through the tadpole, they’ve seen what he’s seen; and judging from the atmosphere, they’re chalking it up to an active imagination. All but loud, with a lone cricket chirping in the distance. He shoots up to in an attempt to explain, but wordlessly splutters instead.

“So you’ve had your first wet dream, I take it?” Astarion scoffs, finding the dirt under his manicured nails more interesting than what the fiend had to say next. “Had an issue with morning wood, perhaps– or should I say, a hardened blade?”

“No!” Wyll refutes, now standing up with the help of Shadowheart. “I-I meant to say they’re hot, literally. They’re drenched with sweat, lookin’ like they’re about to keel over. You saw it, in my head, what they looked like!”

“Ah, yes.” The vampire recalled that vision. Though brief and concerning, yes, it was also undeniably delectable. What he wouldn’t give to have seen you writhing with want up close. But still, he slips his desperation behind a theatric mask. “Like a mutt in heat, how hilarious.”

“In heat.” Karlach had repeated Astarion’s words and bristled, her muscles twitching once but violently enough that it had them staring at her like they had been with Wyll. The look on her face tells everyone she’s had her eureka moment, a light flickering beside her head. “Tav is in heat. Of course they are; it’s breeding season!” She guffaws then, disregarding the disbelief of the party — save for Halsin, who simply nodded.

“So what you’re saying is we have a feral, unspayed animal amongst us for the time being?” Lae’zel grunted, though she certainly did not mind if the blush on her face was anything to go by.

“Mating season is upon most of the forest.” The druid responded, crossing his thick arms, ever the calm elf. “Given the... more animalistic features of some cambions, it is not entirely unreasonable. Given the intensity, it must be their first heat since you’ve all been on this journey.” The party gapes; Karlach nods, and though she does not mention it, she’s mildly disappointed your heat had not aligned with her rut.

“So, what you’re both saying is that they need to breed – or be bred?” Though the vampiric rogue balked, he was unable to deny the inkling of lust that washed through him at the idea. You, and your all proud visage crumbling into one of a desperate, slut of a fiend.

“Well, when you put it in such a frank and vulgar manner...” Gale coughs, flushed, Astarion notices, inwardly grimacing. The wizard’s never been discreet about liking your musk – and today, it is especially honeyed and heavy around the campsite. “Yes.”

And that’s when it hits the rogue, the shared tension and ignited lust in everyone – not just Gale. It’s a slow and heavy shift, like puffs of smoke. The current of lust in the air runs deeper when a small, inviting moan permeates from your tent. The sounds of heavy breaths and trousers shifting from around the party, it all goes unobserved to any eye that doesn’t belong to an experienced rogue.

Still, the rest would’ve been fools to think only one or two of them would be intrigued, he thought. It was with a silent agreement amongst them that by the end of this week, you’d be thoroughly savoured.

The first thing you wake up to is a dull ache across the expanse of your stomach, and a pool of your own arousal drenching the bedroll between your legs. Your bed-kissed face tightens, glaring down at the growing tension in your belly. A groan is torn out of your dehydrated throat – and if the obvious lack of sun on your tent was anything to go by, you’ve slept through nearly the entire day.

Fuck, what was going on? Distoriented, you attempt to sit up only for the dull ache to morph into heated convulsions that immediately spread like wildfire around your weakened body. It was then that you realized that to your utter horror, you were burning hot, to the Nines and beyond — as if you were forcefully thrown into an early heat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. The edges around your vision blackened for a split second before you violently lurched yourself out of your too-warm, too-cramped tent, slamming your palms and knees into the dirt ground and digging your nails in, your mouth open to welcome the hot pants stuck in your dry throat.

You spat out a vicious string of Infernal curses, your focus blurring in and out of itself. You shut your mouth, biting your lip to keep in whimpers, sweat trickling down from your forehead as your mind fought in vain against the primal urges now closing in on it; the feral ache for relief deeming itself more important than reason.

Relief. Fuck, it sounded good right now. You hissed, your mental resolve crumbling, tail furiously lashing against the dirt. Relief. Your eyes darted around the camp anything that could relieve the heat in your loins; Shadowheart and her healing hands or a cool river stream to let the water wash over you, but fuck, you needed real relief. A body you could sink your teeth into and ride until the next morning – preferably Karlach, or Halsin–!

Thick, strong Halsin.

“You feel good, little one.” Halsin quietly groaned up from above you, touching you as if he’s been longing to.

He moves inside you; thick cock bruising your insides. Every open-mouthed gasp and hurt or pleasured cry was eagerly welcomed into his own mouth with wet kisses. He was unrelenting, but kind. Full of sinew your hands could run across or scratch in slight distaste if the fat tip of his length pressed a sensitive spot deeper than you’d have liked. And without fail, he had laughed everytime, gentle and light, even if his deep thrusts into your spent hole were anything but.

He must have been trying to burrow in you with how deep he was inside, letting you raggedly cry into the slope of his neck meeting the thickness of his shoulder. Halsin set out to plant an apologetic kiss into the crook of yours, fucking you deep until you fluttered around him, dragging him to his peak alongside you.

No, you winced, tearing your eyes open and your mind out of its lust-ridden gutter, the burn inside you relentless. No Halsin nor Karlach, not a single soul that could provide you relief to be found around camp — and damn them all, you were in no state to be crawling around searching for even the slightest whiff of their scent in gods know where.

Relief.

Yet another infuriating wave of heat rolled through you, forcing you to clench your hands and drive dirt beneath your nails. What remained of your rationality sought out to the crevices of your memories, ones that weren’t flooded of nightly trysts with the druid elf or — Rolan.

Relief – Rolan. A drop of your drool hitting the ground; Rolan with his horns you could grip and sharp teeth that could sink into your shoulder. No doubt warmly cooped up in Ramazith’s Tower, signing trades or shoving his nose in dusty books. He’d do, for tonight – he’d understand, indulge you and lift you from the unbearable heat clouding your head. He wouldn’t mind, you know it, because you’d be a blind fool to not see the way his eyes would fondly trail over your face, or the dips in your body.

He wants you, and for tonight, you will do him a favor and want him back.

You urge your trembling body to stand up and begin the treacherous trek from camp to the Gate’s city.

It was only the next night, moon high, that you sauntered into camp instead of out your tent, sporting a relieved glow, a fresh set of bites around your throat, a heavy limp, and of course, the hands of a flushed Rolan around your waist.

Your ragtag party watched from their campfire logs, a petty and envious air about them whilst the winsome smile on your face turned into an airy laugh as Rolan tenderly cupped your jaw with his hands, whispering something that had you curling your tails together. You shook your head and sweetly pecked his cheek as he nodded and bumped your horns together like lovers as a bid goodbye before stepping back to part ways.

“Well?” Karlach greeted with an amiable smile as you joined the group’s circle, having been worriedly sniffing around and asking for you the entirety of the morning; your scent lingering faintly around the air but with no continued path as to exactly where you were. She knew firsthand the extent of pain and delirium heats could bring, and god forbid you had fallen in the wrong hands.

(And thankfully, you hadn’t. She was simply glad you found someone trustworthy to mingle with instead of being alone.)

You scooched near her with a charmingly teasing grin, matching her liveliness, turning a blind eye to the tension in the air. “Well, what?” And before the red-skin tiefling could play banter with you, a certain rogue had pettily overtook the conversation.

“Well, did you enjoy your little fling?” Astarion dryly teased, a goblet of wine in his spindly hands and a sardonic smile on his face. He let the wine swivel for a moment. “Enjoyed playing charity, whoring yourself out?”

Karlach quietly called out his name in a disappointed manner, either to scold or deter him from what next he could say.

“What can I say?” You entertain his snark, peeking around the campfire logs for a bottle of blingdenstone blush wine; grabbing ahold of ot and pouring yourself a goblet. Taking a gracious swig, you allow the fruity taste to melt on your tongue. “My company is sought after.”

“Sought after? You amuse me,” The pale elf laughs, dry in a manner that has you eyeing him, his hand tightening around the rusted goblet whilst you set down yours. “Are you sure?” He asks, glaring. “I’d say it’s desperation, on your side of the coin – you’d spread your legs to anyone asking politely, darling.”

You scrunch your nose at that, the warmth and flavor of the wine turning cold and bitter in your throat.

The silence is almost hostile around the campfire – the crackling of it serving to make it less awkward. “Take that damn wine out his hands,” you hear Wyll whisper to a reading Gale and a Lae’zel sharpening her dagger – but both the wizard and githyanki don faces that tell you they aren’t approving of your escapade either. You allow your eyes a brief roam around all their faces; finding it tightened in displeasure.

You don’t feel so well, all of a sudden. Some part inside you chalks it up to the wine.

Save for Karlach who was nudging you with her tail, pleading you from the corner of her eye; asking you to back down from Astarion. Considering it was an option until he opened his mouth once again, his breath smelling of merlot wine. “You’re missing out, you know.” He hisses when you raise him a brow.

“These flings you have,” he eyes around the party, making sure to pointedly look at Halsin for a second longer. You’re half-sure he’d vex Rolan if he was here. Slurring, he pauses again to savor another sip from his wine. “They can’t give you something real.” Your eyes meet his, hesitant, reading the unsaid but he can in them.

“You...” You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the light, the fire shedding a hopeful glint in his eyes for a split second at your tender tone of voice, face softening at the way you curl in yourself. “You’re drinking too much.” And just as quickly as it came, it left.

Something heavy twists in your gut; and you can’t quite decide if it’s from the wine, the second wave of your heat, or distress. Silently pushing yourself off the log, you might as well to take that soak in the river that you’d been dying for.

(You’re not very surprised to feel the many eyes piercing through you.)

Shortly after you left the circle, Karlach had followed you, indiscreet. It’s a game of chase, really – and she’s hot on your tail but you just keep evading her when she thinks she’s got you, a hairsbreadth away from her hands. The way your shoulders tremble with little laughs from your lips are not missed by her, and if she were any closer she’d chase it with her own.

(She smiles, not seen through the dark mouth of the night. Was it her presence or the alcohol that has made you soft?)

It’s not a long trek to the lake by any means, the path obscured by dense foliage she’d occasionally lose you in. Within moments, she’s at the edge of the water with the gravel crushing beneath her boots, overtaking the slow stream of water you’re delicately undressing by. Her longing gaze lingers on the slope of your jaw, the fullness of your lips and the fresh, deep indents of teeth along your shoulder. She’s unsure of whether it’s from Astarion’s feeding or Rolan.

It’s only when you’re fully bare that you turn to face her, that same plush smile that’s melted the hearts of hundreds.

“Are you joining me?” The sweet lilt of your voice makes the gears stop turning in Karlach’s nodding head, her body moving before her mind to start peeling away at her own clothes at the appealing invitation; wading into the water with you as soon as she’s done. A snort is pulled from her when you playfully splash at her with your tail when you hear her behind you.

“Don’t play a game you can’t win, you little...” Karlach jovially returns the splash, inwardly rejoicing at your giggle; this little, shared intimacy is nothing new, but it makes her heart lurch all the same. What she wouldn’t give to have more time with you.

By the gods, she could never get enough of that you and your joy. Some selfish, unbidden part of her hopes you’ll take her up on Wyll’s offer on the path to Avernus, for the sole reason to see it just a little longer.

She shifts around for a topic to hear your voice a little more, “How is your heat coming along?” The smile on your face falters slightly at her choice of inquiry – but you relax instantly. She’s one of your dearest friends, concern is her second nature.

“When is it never dreadful?” You shrug, casual though your words ring true. An unmated tiefling’s pain during a rut or heat was nothing short of agonizing. She watches the nervous swallow bob in your throat. “But I had a little bit of help- from Rolan.”

“Ah, the new master of the tower, was it?” You nod at her, and it comes to you once again that Karlach was no jealous woman. She was glad you had your fill of enjoyment. “He looks smitten with you; are you courting him?”

“Huh?” Your tail whacks against the relaxed surface of water in disbelief, a flush festering on your disgruntled face. “It’s more like the other way around, he bumped his horns to mine earlier.”

Karlach guffaws at your distress, tearing up with her joy until her breath catches on a sweet aroma. She squints, cautiously sniffing the air, once, twice – and she looks to you, pursing her lips when she realizes it isn’t the fragrances you’re washing over yourself; it’s just you, or rather, the second wave to your heat. She hopes the hunger welling in her isn’t clear in her eyes.

You smell really good, she thinks as she chews on the inside of her cheek, staring at the dip of your back as your turn around. And you’re a really good friend, too good, maybe. She feels what she’s about to do isn’t very good.

Karlach doesn’t know what compels her to do what she does but she follows like it’s law; catching your wrist in her hand, capturing your jaw in her other and kissing you tender, swallowing the gasp that comes out.

It’s only when the air starts to feel thick with your heat and her lust that she pulls away, a string of spit following you both – and she’s already pulling away, horror welling up in her eyes but before she can grovel with apologies, you’re reeling her right back to your spit-slick lips with a moan so utterly full of want it has her pulling you closer.

“I can help you,” she murmurs against your taste before pulling away, your want reassuring her she’s got nothing to be sorry for. Your heaving breasts press against her face when she dips half of herself in the water to wrap her arms around your legs. She pleads. “Let me help you. Please.”

Karlach carries you with her muscled arms and settles you on the edge of a rock, softly parting your legs for you and making herself a warm home between them. The way she looks up at you gives you a bashful knot in your stomach.

“Do you want this?” She swallows thick, as if to wash away the heavy weight of her need, eyes situating her hands on your hips with a trembling but still dominant grip. “Use your words.”

You nod, frantic. Breathy pants now visible in the hot air. “I do,” your tongue feels weak when you speak, looking at her with dazed eyes. “P-please, I- I want it, Kar.”

It’s all the push she needs to lick a stripe up your slit, rendering you still when she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks. It drags a heavy moan out of you and it’s nothing but music to her ears. She hopes it’s the sound that greets her in the afterlife instead of angels with their harps or trumpets.

“Ahah,” Karlach pants, hot against your clit, and you look down to see your slick running down her chin, her tail pulling you closer by your calf while yours whips around. “You taste so fucking good.” She murmurs against you, sending an arrow of pleasure straight through your trembling spine that makes her dive right back in, tracing your fluttering hole.

She tongues inside your hole, moaning when it tightens around her, fucking and writhing it around in response.

If the heat wasn’t so heavy, you’d think she was tracing her name on your cunt. You huff, rocking your hips into her face as much as you can with her hands firmly clasped around your hips. Your hands find themselves around her horns and they gently pull her head closer to you, riding her face as if to help brace you for the knot snapping in your stomach.

Karlach takes a moment to pause, smiling with your heady flavor on her lips, chuckling against your core. “So needy.”

You don’t last long, not with her smile and teeth and tongue around your folds, no, and it’s a blind rush of time and hot white when your thighs tremble around her head, mouth dropping open in a silent scream.

“Karlach...!” You cry her name, cumming and convulsing around her tongue with open-mouthed moans. Her grip on you tightens, an Infernal curse leaving her as your slick taste floods her mouth. Her hands run over you, the small of your back, your hips and then to your ass, gripping the fat of it to keep you still while she laps at what little you have left to give; only giving in when you whimper and try to kick her away.

(In the rational crevices of your head, you’d hate to prove Astarion right about being a whore but fuck, does she make you feel good.)

It’s soft silence that fills the air, after you both cease your panting. You stare at the stars, head foggy with the orgasm that racked your body, humming when Karlach gently sets you in her arms again to wash your arousal away in the water while your head contentedly lies against her shoulder.

“Let’s get you to your bed, hm?” She coos, bumping her horns against yours – only letting you go to stand up again when she finishes washing and drying you, allowing you to clothe yourself. Time is a blur then, as you spend it aided to walk by her warm arms, staring at the intricate maze of foliage you’re surrounded about.

You’re snapped out your limping daze when you look around to see the foliage isn’t dark anymore, lit around by hues of oranges from a familiar campfire. Karlach grins, closed-eye as she squeezes you and kisses you warmly before nudging you towards the direction of your tent, quaintly lit up by a candlelight lamp you set inside earlier.

“Go inside,” she coaxes you, all-kind. It’s a certain emptiness you feel when you peel yourself away from her warmth with a whine that has her chuckling and pressing her lips against yours again. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You do as she says, stumbling inside your tent and falling with a thud to your soft bed – but not without curling your lips into a loving smile, savoring the memory of her. It’s the last thing you see before you succumb to the hands of rest.

Fuck.

It’s the middle of the night when you’re next startled awake.

And it’s no surprise when you wake up to yet another surge of dull aching and your own arousal just starting to drip out of you. You waste little time; stumbling like a fawn out your tent, movements laden with the remnants of sleep –

You’re halfway out when your face slams against a body; lithe and cold, and in your sleep-ridden state, you could be convinced you just bumped into a slab of ice draped in flesh. But you urge your heavy lids to open up, to see the man, well, vampire you’d bickered with earlier, staring down at you from the very opening.

“Astarion,” you state, bleary-eyed and fisting your nightshirt closer; the fleece of it grounding you under his piercing gaze. Your heart is beating quick; a brief thought hopes it stays beating, and you will it away. You have half the mind to ask what he’s doing in front of your tent, but you have no time. The air is thick. The heat inside you is boiling. You need relief – Rolan.

“I...” Your words crawl in your throat, the line of your brows furrowing when you feel the familiar pinpricks of your heat pressing into you. “Please, move. I have somewhere to be.”

You almost feel small under the depth of his gaze; everything about him reeks of fury mingling with need.

“Off to find another bed to warm, I assume?” Astarion hisses with the slightest slur, the breath which he speaks out carrying the scent of fine wine – the air around him dangerous. Starving. He moves closer, and you, in all your confusion, slowly crawl back into your tent, unsure on what to fight first; the heat that consumes you or the danger you feel is about to overtake you.

“Astarion,” you mumble, this time with a bleat to your voice and your eyes wide like the lamb to be drained and slaughtered you feel you are. The air is heady; laden with fear and need thick like honey. Everything around you is too much. Where is Rolan? Karlach?

A hand tightens around your ankle, refusing to let go even as you yelp and watch Astarion force his way inside your cramped tent and crawls himself between your legs to nestle his face in the crook of your neck.

“No, no,” You whisper to him, shifting under him in a panic when you feel his familiar lips on your neck. “I’m sorry but you cannot feed from me tonight, Astarion. I need to leave, now.”

“I’m not here to drain you dry, silly.” Astarion’s voice is husky, breathy. It has you clenching your thighs around his hips; his hands clasp around yours in return. “Though, I am starving, I have something else in store for little you.” You grit in discomfort, the unease and desire a blend that you feel entirely drunk on.

(He would never admit it but that tender pit of terror in you has him salivating.)

“Leave...!” You hiss. He chuckles at that; the sound velvet-rich and grating, and does exactly the contrary – pushing himself closer to you until you’re chest-to-chest. You hate that you cannot see him tucked away to your neck. It does not help he is close to your raw, still-sensitive core; you have nothing on save for a long, flowy poet’s shirt thanks to a certain crimson tiefling.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I can’t have you running off to somebody else.”

It’s then that you feel it; the press of a cruel, toothy smile against your throat and something of leather, something of warmth digging into the meat of your thigh. He is not here to drain you out of his anger, rather, he’s here to devour you, prey on you. You fear you’ve catched on belatedly.

“Mfh. I don’t want–” Your late, futile resistance is met with a finger to your lips, flushed thighs being pushed further apart as his hips slot between yours. Somewhere in the back of your muddled mind, you hear yourself keen with delight at the friction before he hushes you.

“You’re right, you don’t want it.” Astarion croons, watching as you writhe your hips against his for friction, as your bare cunt instictively grinds against the hot imprint of his still-clothed cock even as your head grasps for even a thread of coherence. “You need it, need this - need me.”

Your body does not deny his claim, arching your hips to meet his grinding, swollen folds clinging to his leather trousers – the pit in your stomach and the crawl up your spine indistinguishable between dread and ecstasy. The line of reason and morals are once again blurred in your head.

You curse yourself for having indulged in the alcoholic delicacy earlier. He’s emboldened by the wine; you’re weakened by it. The finger on your lips slip inside your mouth, firm on your tongue. You gag on it when his other hand clasped on your hip reaches down in between your legs and feels around for your, unsurprisingly, dripping vulva, the both of you gasping in delight.

“You’re soaked. What a fine surprise!” He chuckles, continuing to buck his clothed erection into your heat, petting your hair when you moan around his fingers. “I hope it’s because of me and not just your little heat.”

Your body is transparent, visceral with him, loyal to the promise of pleasure he can give you – even if your mind, what is left of your rationality indignantly fights tooth and nail to convince your body to stop giving in to animalistic pleasure.

It’s not long then, until Astarion becomes impatient, always having been; unlacing the ties on his trousers with one skilled hand and leaning over you to toss it off – it’s all too quick for your swarmed mind to catch up to, and the next thing you see and know is that you’re hissing through your teeth and thrashing while he pushes the burning head of his cock into you, hushing you as if you were a distressed animal. Your muscles tense, jerking away, a feeble little no on your lips—

But it’s an easy intrusion, a quick thrust into you is all it takes to bury himself deep with the help of your slick and his pre. He groans as, eyes rolling back as yours start to prick with tears, hold tightening on you as you whimper and turn limp like a ragdoll to his experimental thrusting. Some part of you wants to preen at the pleasure; the honeyed heat inside you pleased.

“Good- fuck, good pet.” He breathily murmurs, clasping a hand around your hip again; alternating between sensual grinding and abruptly slamming into you. All while he laughs and watches with a vicious smile as you’re torn between pathetically moaning and crying, the fingers in your mouth helping to muffle the sounds.

“See? Not so bad if you just close your eyes and give in.” He presses down particularly hard on your tongue when you wail at a sharp, unexpected thrust. He couldn’t have someone from the party playing hero. “I’m trying to help you.”

Tears sting at the corner of your eye, and you have no doubt you look pitiful right now - but fuck, he feels good. You don’t want to admit it, but you won’t deny it either; you needed this. And though you would have preferred to have it be Rolan, all gentle, rutting into you with sweet whispers and even sweeter promises, the heat in your body cannot be satiated with the tenderness he can give you. But you would rather stake him first than admit he’s helping you fill that gaping need in you.

“Astarion...” You furrow your brows and swallow around his fingers, your own life clinging to the back of your throat. It’s with a certain horror and desperation that you realize you’re approaching the edge faster than you’d like – and you know he knows, because he pulls his fingers out your mouth and presses a warm, spit-slick thumb to your aching clit. Your hole flutters around him, and you writhe around, the tightening burn of your incoming orgasm too much to handle. Pleasured, honeyed mewls are wrenched from you as his hips snap, driving his cock deep.

Astarion purrs – a hand on your thigh to help him slam into you, gripping hard enough to form bruises whilst the other was relentless at your clit. It’s with a shriek that you fall apart, seizing on his thrusts that only seem to quicken, the wet sound of skin on skin and your crying permeating through the entire camp, no doubt. He coos when a whine slips out of you, a tear gliding from your eye.

You’re seeing fucking white, blots of black dotted along your vision by the time he greedily slams inside you a final time with a low groan – something pleasingly warm filling you up, satiating you. Astarion holds your face and tugs it meet his for a breathy, passionate kiss whilst he twitches seed inside you - smiling in delight against your lips when you melt.

Relief is found; a warm glow settling on you despite your lids fighting their damndest to stay up. You’re a soft, slow little thing now, all but warm and ready to be taken by approaching slumber. Astarion gladly takes the chance to lie on his side and gather you in his arms, lips curving sweet yet again, but with less threat, as he watches you contentedly curl yourself up against his side. He sighs at the warmth that washes over him, thankful that fatigue has tamed you and fanned out that little spark and scratch you had earlier.

“Happy?” The smitten vampire asks, cheeky, smug as he pulls you closer into him, massaging your sore hips. “No need for you to go looking around for victims when you have me at your disposal, darling. I’d hate for you to lose sight on what really matters.”

You hum as if far away, you’d slap him in the morning that comes, but for now you’d let yourself be lulled into a soft, gentle slumber. A kiss on your head is the last thing you feel, a feeble little goodnight whispered.

#bg3 x reader #bg3 smut #karlach x reader #halsin x reader #astarion x reader #tav harem #um?#i dont wanna tag the other characters because i don’t think they were featured enough and i’d be clogging tags :')#this was very messy i wrote this on a whim #i do not like it but alas astarion’s scene is delightful

1K notes · View notes

faetreides · 19 days

Text

summary: the discovery of a long hidden planet operating outside of the emperor’s rule threatens to upend the balance between the great houses and shift the tides of war. (ongoing series)

pairings: paul atreides x reader , chani x reader, leto atreides x reader, lady jessica x reader, irulan x reader, feyd rautha x reader (AFAB crown heir!reader)

cw: reverse harem type crack treated seriously, cosmic horror elements, undecided/possibly ambiguous endgame, dark/yandere behavior & themes, comedic undertones, dark & nsfw content, canon compliant as much as possible but there will be gaps in my memory, past leto & jessica (they split after she became a reverend mother)/past paul & chani, each character pursues reader separately, oc planet & oc house for reader, pretend like it still makes sense for leto to be there, don’t think too hard about the logistics of this in general, vintage sci fi inspired, i just wanted to have a silly unrealistic series where it’s all about the reader lmao

series masterlist:

coming soon !

1. stardust fallout

10.

tag list (ask to be added or removed, NO MINORS):

youngestxhearts, tian-monique, angel-gabriella, isnt-itstrange, flower-frog, aerangi, saturnhas82moons, ch0co1atech1p, mcmisbehaving, zoeaxrodriguez22, hellomadamebutterfly, sh4d0w69he4rt, moonsoulk, skythighs, laennetargaryenskywalker, nexilismirus, howibecameabadassbitch, hoely-maria, aubs444, timhalamet, allison-119, your-favorite-god, homopheli, droopycoquette

- faetreides 2024

484 notes · View notes

stargazedmona · 8 months

Text

Neuvillete is a virgin. However, you didn’t know that. Granted, he’s incredibly good looking, tall, well-built, and has a level-headed personality, but he’s never once in his life kissed or held hands before. It was comedic. He’s deemed one of the finest bachelors in Fontaine yet he’s never once secured a girlfriend.

It’s not like he never wanted one. As a matter of fact, he wanted you and you only! You’re not even a powerful figure. You’re just an adventurer who took measly commissions dished out by the guild. You were a nobody! To Neuvilette, however, you were sweet, cheerful, friendly, and a wonderful person. You’re so kind to him and so caring, and whenever you crossed paths, you would often hand him little trinkets from your latest adventures.

As level-headed as he is, the man crumbles after receiving your tiny gifts because it warms his heart. It stirs something inside of him that he can’t seem to understand.

But his thoughts and views of you isn’t always so innocent—oh, archons, no. In fact, when the moon is at its brightest peak and the rays of its light sneaks through the windows of his bedroom, Neuvilette is having the most lewd and most nastiest thoughts of you. It nearly pains him that he thinks of you in such a way that he’s tugging at his dick to relieve himself.

It’s a cold night but he has a leg propped up and his other hand is pulling apart his tie and collared top and his coat is strewn on the floor in such a messy manner—it’s so unlike him. But he’s so hot and sweaty, and the more he fucks his hand with his fists with the thought of you riding his cock, the hotter he gets. The man was practically panting and licking his lips as he gets closer to his orgasm.

This was his nightly routine. He sees you, receives your gift, and he goes home after a long day and relieves himself by stroking his cock. Something about you was just so addicting.

It got even worse when Neuvilette had bumped into you. This time, you didn’t stop and say hello or give him a gift. Instead, you brush pass him so quickly, give a hasty apology, and ran to who knows where. You dropped a handkerchief as you did and Neuvilette picked it up. Before he could give it to you, you had already gone out of his sight.

Neuvilette was by all means a gentleman, but he was a desperate virgin as well. That night, he cradled your handkerchief in his hand and brought it to his nose. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. His lips parted and he lets out a soft groan. You smelled so enticing and it was enough to turn him on.

For the first time that night, he touched himself and groaned your name as he sniffed your handkerchief. He has never came so fast in all his years of living.

#[ 📌 smut ]#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette smut #neuvilette x you #neuvilette genshin #um yes neuvilette revived me and so what?!#more virgin!neuvilette coming soon #cumming soon…#[ 🌊 thirsts ]

2K notes · View notes

adollrable · 3 days

Text

Under the same moon.

✧ summary: where it's your birthday and your boyfriend is on a mission far from home.

✧ cw: female reader x leon kennedy (re4r), fluff, just him being a cutie pie and the boyfiest boyfie ever (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿

✧ wc: 1387

a/n: I'M SCARED, this is my first time writing something COMPLETELY in english so... if something looks kinda silly forgive me 😞 english is not my first language but feel free to give me feedback!

my birthday was two days ago and i kinda want it to write something so, if someone is reading this on their birthday, happy birthday!!! 🤲🏻

11:45 PM. You were pacing around your apartment. Brushing your teeth, doing your skin care routine, pulling out the softest cotton sheets you have at your disposal.

You looked at the calendar that sat on the nightstand next to your bed, your eyes drifting towards the next day's date. Your birthday.

You weren't that excited, the printed number that indicated your day of birth wasn't marked with a red marker that circled it. The date Leon would return was.

Originally, your boyfriend's absence wouldn't interfere with your birthday. He would be with you on your special day. But you thought back to the call you had with him a few days ago, with him trying to get a signal to tell you that he couldn't make it on time and that he was really sorry.

You understand. It doesn't bother you, but you wish he was by your side now.

His job was complicated, and he explained that he couldn't tell you much from it. As far as you know, he's in Spain, rescuing someone. You don't know who, but it must be someone important.

11:55 PM. Five minutes to midnight. Five minutes until another return to the sun happens for you.

You laid down on your bed, covered by the sheets that hugged your body. You took the pillow that Leon usually uses and wrapped both arms around it, seeking comfort to avoid missing him so much.

Tomorrow would be just another day. Sure, your friends will congratulate you, you will receive calls from your family at extremely early hours of the morning, and you will repeat "thank you, I appreciate it" like a broken recorder for each call and message.

Gifts don't matter, much less a cake, or a party. The only thing you want is for the love of your life to return soon and you can be together.

Rolling between thoughts, you were able to fall asleep.

12:00 PM. Finally your birthday.

Your cellphone vibrated with every message that one of your friends or your family sent you congratulations. The light from the device breaks into your not-so-deep sleep, since not even ten minutes had passed since you closed your eyes.

Sheet off you, you stopped hugging the pillow and with a soft grunt reached for your phone, checking notifications with squinted eyes.

You lowered the brightness of your cell phone because of that annoying burning in your eyes and now with more comfort, you wandered around the notifications you had, until one caught your attention completely.

Leon ♡: "Happy birthday, baby. I love you so much."

A smile began to form on your face, and without hesitation you unlocked your cell phone to answer him.

Thanks, Lee :( I miss you and I love you

You weren't expecting a response, after all, he must be busy, right? In Spain it must have been your birthday hours ago, but he still bothered to wait for it to come where you are.

Leon ♡: I miss you too, how have you been?

You didn't think he would have time to respond, but you also didn't want to spend three days without hearing from him, so you took advantage of the opportunity.

I've been fine... I haven't done much, just work and back home :( how about you?

Leon ♡: Tired, but all good. Missing you most of all the time. Tell me, have you done anything interesting?

Does missing you count? :[

Leon ♡: Yeah, it counts, sweet thing. I want to tell you something, okay? But let me call you first.

The fact that he was going to call you made you feel good, he may not be with you on your birthday and he is supposed to arrive days later, but one call is enough to lift your spirits.

You were going to answer but your screen lit up with your boyfriend's contact name and the buttons to answer or hang up the call. You pressed the green button and put it on speaker, placing your phone on your chest with a smile. "Hi..."

"Hello, birthday girl." His voice... You could spend hours listening to him speak, even if he was talking about the most boring topic in the world, you would pay attention from start to finish. "How's my baby doing?"

You giggled, there really wasn't much to say, your birthday had started less than an hour ago, "No crazy, exciting party... My friends have congratulated me, as has my family. My parents must be asleep at this time, so I guess when they wake up they'll call me."

"Yeah, they must be resting at this time, huh. You should, too. It's only because of your birthday that you stay up so late." He answered and you could hear his smirk over the phone, making you blush slightly.

"Of course not... I can sleep late whenever I want." And even if you wanted to, you know it's not possible. Once you get home from work and settle into your boyfriend's arms to sleep, you fall deeply into the arms of Morpheus. It's hard not to sleep well when you have a giant boyfriend pillow. "I can't sleep without you here."

"I know, baby, I know... I can't sleep without my sweet girl hugging me like a damn teddy bear." He chuckled and you did it too. Both of you fell into a small silence, it wasn't awkward, it was comforting. "Hey, baby?" He began, as you settled into the sheets.

"Mhm?" You asked, as you looked at the moon through your bedroom window. Her brilliance seeped in and was strong and radiant.

Watching the moon always gave you a certain comfort, knowing that no matter where Leon is, both of you will always be under the same moon and firmament of stars.

A laugh came through the speaker of your cell phone, the same laugh that makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. "Did you see how beautiful the moon is?"

You smiled, humming a small "mhm" in response, before adding, "Yeah... It's full and very pretty. I wish you were here to watch it together."

Leon let out a small sigh, "Yeah, me too, what if you ask the moon for that?" You chuckled this time. It was a silly thing to do, but, why not?

"Like a birthday wish? But if you know it then it won't come true." Leon could hear the pout in your voice, and he smiled to himself. "Maybe there will be an exception this time." He murmured. "Come on, babe. Do it."

With your eyes closed, you let out a sigh, wishing with all your being that Leon could be by your side as soon as possible, and after a few seconds, you heard him speak, "Did you do it?"

"Yeah, I did... Time to wait I guess." Your gaze met that radiant crater that was seen in its maximum splendor, until something began to click in your head.

"Did you see how beautiful the moon is?" There is supposed to be approximately six hours between your location and Spain, so it was impossible for Leon to see the moon shining in its entirety, but you tried not to give too much thought to the matter, since the moon can also be seen during the day, although at lower exposure.

But if he talked about the moon... And how big it looked... That could mean that maybe he...

"The stars look very bright too." He added after.

"But, you know what I think is more bright?" He began, while his footsteps were heard on the cement, signaling that he had begun to walk.

Until he stopped.

"The brightest thing I'm going to see is your face when you look out the window."

That made you get up from your bed, phone in hand while with clumsy steps thanks to the sheets rolled up between your legs, you reached the window and realized everything.

He is here.

And when he saw that look light up on your face, he knew that the moon was nothing compared to how radiant you looked. "Hey, birthday girl."

It seems like the moon was the perfect alibi for Leon to sneak in and surprise you.

Or simply the moon heard your wishes, and fulfilled them on your special day.

a/n: OKAY... I'M STILL NERVOUS I PUT THIS ON THREE DIFFERENT GRAMMAR CHECKERS BUT I'M STILL AFRAID i suck at writing tbh but this idea was scratching my brain and i thought Hmm why not SO!!! i hope y'all like it :] i appreciate likes and reblogs annnnnd comments i love comments!!! feel free to give me tips to be better at writing or something THAT'S ALL BYE-BYE 🤲🏻

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon kennedy fic #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy re4r #um... yeah first time writing KINDA NERVOUS #i love this guy

361 notes · View notes

scarletlizzard · 2 months

Note

thinking abt older sisters bsf! nat 🤭

your sister being wanda, and nat is obviously her best friend. wanda is always protective with you but since you both grew up with nat she could easily slip through the gaps.

her and wanda would always come home as a pair when they did, you chose to live with your parents while you attendees a smaller local college.

the first time natasha fucked you she snuck off away from wanda while she was sleeping, she’d find you still awake probably studying. she begged you to stop for a bit and come hangout with her.

you two would be cuddled up in your bed watching something, her hand would slowly roam your body.

you’d share a small kiss that would lead to her fucking you into your mattress. 🤭🤭🤭

every time wanda and your parents would go out to do something, natasha would make up some excuse not to go and she’d stay and fuck you the whole time they were gone.

ugh i love this so much 😵‍💫😵‍💫

Oh okay so this is what we're rocking with today? Cause yeah anon, you've hooked me!! 😌😳

A few thoughts on that if I may ✍️

The first time she snuck in your room, she convinced you to watch a movie with her. It started out innocently at first. After all, this was something you would regularly do, but usually not with just the two of you. As you watched the screen, her hand rested on your thigh, caressing the skin. It would inch up closer, painfully slow, and you couldn't deny the ache in your lower stomach building. Your thighs pressed together tightly.

"What's the matter sweetheart?"

With a smirk on her lips, forcing you to tell her how bad you needed her. How you wanted her to make you feel good. She kissed you softly at first, savoring the way your lips tasted, wanting to relish the feeling of your first kiss. Natasha would waste no time after that, knowing at any moment the two of you could be caught.

"You're taking me so well, fuck, this pussy was made for me."

"Shh, sweetheart, you have to be quiet. Don't want to wake anybody up, do you?"

"I know you love it.. the idea that someone could walk in right now and see you being fucked like a slut."

"That's it, baby, that's it. Give me everything. Shh, just one more, one more time."

The two of you spent the night tangled in your sheets, Natasha drawing out orgasm after orgasm from you. She left you a whining, whimpering mess, to the point you couldn't even speak.

She cuddled you until you fell asleep, but when you awoke, she was gone. You went slowly down the stairs, seeing your sister and her best friend eating breakfast at the table. You sat next to Wanda, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

After that night, she spent every minute she could in your presence, coming up with every excuse she could think of to stay home with you. The second the car rolled out of the driveway, she would be on top of you, her hands slipping into your panties wherever you were. She would fuck you for as long as she could whether it be ten minutes or two hours.

One evening, she had you on the couch, enjoying the squirming mess that you were underneath her. Your moans filled the room, along with the sinful sounds of her fucking you.

"That's it pretty girl, just like that. Let me hear those pretty moans."

Because any time you were alone, she wanted to hear those broken cries of pleasure, your name leaving your soft pink lips. But as you moaned her name, the familiar sound of the front door unlocking sent a shock of panic through your both your minds.

The two of you tried to part as quickly as possible, but as Wanda walked in, she could see what she had interrupted. The bag she held dropped, and anger was written on her face as she took in the sight before her: the two of you panting, breathlessly. Natasha was still pulling her shirt over her head while you attempted to put on your sweatpants. Both of you had red and puffy lips. A purple bruise was still fresh on your neck, and your hair was wild.

Wanda looked to you and the to Natasha, her fists clenching at her side as she stepped further into the living room.

"What the fu-"

#scarletlizzard asks #um yeah anon #thanks for putting this in my head #way to go #luv u tho !!!#<3333 #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha blurb #marvel blurb

467 notes · View notes

notreallysorryxx · 2 months

Text

#"Be A Millionaire"

Aventurine wants to put a baby in you.

Characters: aventurine (the peacock himself)

Warnings: vaginal sex, unprotected sex, breeding (so smut), use of the word "whore" (if that bugs you, why are you reading it 🤨), petname "pet", there's some hoes in this house LMAO

Notes: This was heavily inspired by "Baby By Me" by 50 Cent & Ne-Yo. I absolutely love breeding in smut so why not try writing my own. I'm not good at writing smut, but I tried!

Words: 1.5k

You couldn't deny that Aventurine was attractive. Although he might be a threat to you and the other Nameless, you couldn't resist his charm. He liked spoiling you, his 'pet'. Veritas thought the both of you were disgusting. He'd found out about your relationship after walking in to the two of you fucking in the hotel bathroom.

Aventurine often invited you to his hotel room, spoiling you there too. He'd give you anything you wanted, absolutely anything. Aventurine had invited you after dinner today. His gaze stayed on your stomach, noticing the slight bulge from the food you had eaten. Even though you were talking, he wasn't paying attention to what you were saying. His arm wrapped around your waist, palm pressed against your stomach.

"Aventurine? Are you listening to me?" you asked.

"Huh? Yeah, of course," he answered.

But you could clearly tell he wasn't. You were confused, following his gaze. What was he so fixated on?

"What's up?"

Aventurine smiles, rubbing his thumb against the skin of your stomach.

"It almost looks like your pregnant, doesn't it? Wouldn't be so bad if you were," he murmurs.

You don't respond, jaw dropped. The two of you hadn't ever talked about a baby, but you weren't opposed. You thought about it, a mini Aventurine sounded adorable. With his genes, any kid you'd have would look cute.

"Yeah? I didn't take you for someone like this-"

"Someone like what?" Aventurine laughs, "I saw a cute kid today in the hotel and then you show up, belly bulging from food... imagine how good you'd look if you were actually pregnant. You'd be glowing, gorgeous as always. Makes me wanna put a baby in you."

He smirks as he sees you go red, "Oh? You like the idea? Should I actually..."

He pulls you impossibly closer, hands groping at your ass. This is a habit of his, groping you. Aventurine knows you like how handsy he is.

"If we actually do this... I won't let you rest at all. Clear your schedule for tomorrow, hm? Come on, be a good little pet."

Your hands shake as you take out your phone to message the Astral Express group chat. The message you send is a jumble of words that can barely be discerned.

"Tsk, can't even spell write. Maybe you should call them."

You inhale sharply. Calling everyone at this hour? And when he's touching you like this? How would you keep your composure. Knowing Welt and Himeko, they'd pick up on this. And you know that Caelus wouldn't approve of your fraternising with the "enemy".

Aventurine waits as you decide. Eventually you give up and call your friends. "Ah, hello," Himeko answers sweetly. "We were wondering where you were."

You take a deep breath before requesting a break the next day. Himeko listens, allowing your request.

"But I do wonder why you'd request a break. Are you tired? Or is there another reason?"

"N-No, I'm just taking time for myself. Recuperating after the Luofu, you know?"

"Mhm, sure."

The doubt is clear in her response, but you brush it off. Aventurine raises his eyebrow, squeezing your thigh.

"Um, I should go... see you later, Himeko."

"Of course, goodnight."

Aventurine smiles, kissing your wrist as you set your phone down.

"Good pet. And you know what good pets get? They get treats. Sit on the counter, legs open. Rest them on my shoulder."

You do as he says, letting him kneel between your legs. He hooks a finger around the waistband of your underwear, pulling them off. They stick to you, wet from your arousal.

"Hm? Already so wet from the idea of me knocking you up, sweetheart? How lewd," he comments.

Before you can respond, he's flinging your undergarment in the other direction, licking a stripe up your core. You gasp. His mouth is so wet and it feels amazing on you. Aventurine smiles against your cunt, suckling on your clit. He teasingly nibbles.

He's too good at this, too good at using his tongue. In more ways than one.

He pulls back a bit, licking his lips, "I've barely even done anything and yet you're gushing on the counter. How cute."

Aventurine leans back in, tongue slipping inside of you. He hums and you can feel the vibration. Your moans only serve to encourage him, his tongue working faster. You beg him to stop. Not because you don't like it, but because you don't want to cum just yet. He doesn't listen for once. Your pleading spurring him on in a way.

"Don't be afraid... let go, my love. I want to taste you," he whispers as his face is still buried between your legs.

You barely hear him, legs tightening around his head. He grunts as you practically smother him with your thighs. But he doesn't mind and you can tell by the way his cock is straning his slacks.

"Please, Venturi-" you whine.

You're cut off by your orgasm, hands gripping his hair tightly. He groans, tasting you on his tongue. Aventurine laps every last drop of your cum up, wiping anything he got on his face with his finger before licking that up too.

"You taste sweet, as always," he coos, inserting his finger now.

You whimper from the overstimulation, squirming.

Aventurine clicks his tongue, "Don't make me tie you down, darling." By the way you clench around his fingers, he can tell you lick the idea.

"Dirty little thing, you are."

He stretches you open, but the both of you know that won't be enough.

"I'm sorry, my sweet. But I just can't wait anymore. It'll sting a bit, okay?" he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe. You nod, not minding if it does sting.

A little bit of pain is nothing if it gets you pleasure later.

"Good pet."

You watch as Aventurine slides his slacks off. The front of his boxers is a mess, fabric incredibly wet. You realise he must have came in his boxers earlier. His cock is reasonably sized, a bit bigger than average but nothing extraordinary. And yet he could no doubt break you with just his cock.

"I don't think the counter would be the best place for this. Especially if we're doing this all night. On the bed, all fours, and ass in the air."

You comply, stripping yourself completely while you're at it. He absolutely loves this position. Loves being able to push your head down in the pillows, loves being able to grope you from behind, loves leaving marks on the nape of your neck and whispering in your ear.

He positions himself behind you before entering you. You hiss at the feeling of him pushing in, stinging just as he had said earlier. But you relish the feeling. It's not so much painful, just unexpected. He can feel your walls clamp around him as your body struggles to fit him since he didn't stretch you enough.

"Shit! You're so tight, wish I had stretched you out more. But it feels amazing, sweetheart. The way you clench around my dick. You love it so much, don't you?" he teases, "I know you do."

He makes a point by thrusting into you. You groan, grabbing the sheets beneath you so you don't collapse.

"Was that painful?"

"No, keep going..."

He listens to you, setting a steady pace. But not before you adjust to his size. It feels amazing, euphoric, as he slides in and out of you.

"You can go faster," you mumble.At first, you don't think he hears you as he pulls out. You're proven wrong as he slams back into you. While the pace before had been steady and rather slow, now he's pounding into you, destroying your insides.

"My pet," he croons, sounding out of breath. "This is what you wanted, hm? For me to treat you like my personal toy... What would the others on the Astral Express think? Seeing you with someone they dislike? What are you going to tell them when you wind up pregnant? That it was an accident? Or will you tell the truth?

"You moan, "T-Tell them the truth..."

"Yeah? That you've been whoring yourself out to me?"He slaps your ass without warning and you can practically hear the grin in his voice."You're fucking adorable... imagine our child. I bet they'll have your eyes," he murmurs softly.

It's strange, endearing almost, that this man who's fucking you so roughly is speaking so softly about what your future kids will look like. You almost laugh at the image, but you can't in your current state. Aventurine reaches for your clit, rubbing it in a circle and pinching it between his fingers.

"I can feel that you're close. Cum for me, darling."

And you do, faceplanting into the pillow and collapsing on the mattress.

Aventurine follows after you, chest against your back. He pants in your ear. You feel him shoot his load into you, his seed warm. It's something you're not used to since he usually pulls out.

"That was amazing, you're wonderful. You'll make a beautiful mother, my dear," he whispers. "Ah, but don't think we're done."

He chuckles as you grunt into the pillow.

#aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #hsr smut #aventurine smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #my beta reader corrected “ass in the hair” pls thank them for that 💀#WHEEZING #smut #um yeah #penacony

769 notes · View notes

magicalbunbun · 1 month

Text

The calm wind au.

Ume is still herself the same to gyutaro, but they are Y/n children(he calls them his lucky stars)

#demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #gyutaro #daki #ume #kny daki #kny x male reader #kny x you #kny x y/n #the calm wind au #kimetsu no yaiba

415 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 8 months

Text

𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 | darren/pig x reader

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 | since little babbas, it's been pig and runt, runt and pig-- king and queen of your own little world. you were happy with just that, but now that you're eighteen, pig wants more... more than you're prepared to give, it seems. and he's prepared to take it if he has to.

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 | 4.6k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 | NONCON SMUT (18+ only; virginity loss, creampie/breeding, fingering, coercion and force, slapping, hair pulling), extreme creepiness/yandere vibes, innocent reader, niche irish accent/dialect so bear with me on the slang and such

(I tried to capture the spirit of the very unique dialogue style of the play/film, while still making it vaguely intelligible and hopefully keeping it from being too upsetting-- but this is definitely one of the weirdest things I've ever written. proceed with caution as always.)

You laid awake that night, thinking endlessly about how he’d kissed you.

Why’d he done that? What’s he thinking?

You felt a little sick and a little dizzy every time you remembered it— it was just weird. You’d never imagined kissing Pig— or Pig kissing you— even if other kids had been joking about it since you were wee. Now that he’d gone and done it, pinning you to that wall and pressing his lips on yours (oddly sweet, for how hard his fingers dug into your arms), you wondered if it was what you should’ve expected. You just assumed it would always be the two of you— Pig and Runt, King and Queen— but never pictured it changing. But things change, don’t they? Boys and girls become men and women, husbands and wives, dads and mams. It’s just what happens. But you never thought about it happening to you and Pig…

It played over and over in your mind: his cold eyes, his soft lips, his fast breaths against your face. “Please, Runt?” he’d whispered, looking heartbroken and desperate like you’d never seen. Begging you to let him kiss you, but he’d taken your first kiss and not even warned you— what were you supposed to do?

The same questions swirled in your mind when you heard the knock at your door the next day. You knew it was him, and you knew that he knew that you knew it was him…

“Lemme in, Runt,” he demanded from the other side, and you stood up and quickly opened the door. He was leaning against the frame, looking down— like a little boy, ashamed and getting scolded. He brushed past you and sat on your bed, and you shut the door.

“Pig,” you breathed, not sure what else to say. A longer silence passed.

“Y’mad at me so,” he noticed, wringing his hands in his lap.

“No,” you denied with a sigh, sitting beside him on your bed. “No, Pig— jus’ don’t understand… why’d you go an’ do that, then?”

“Ah,” he shrugged, looking away from you, “I-I told you already, think you’re pretty.”

But it wasn’t that, you knew it wasn’t only that. “What you want, Pig?” you asked him quietly, and he looked at you again. He smiled a little, his eyes looking you up and down quickly.

“Just a kiss, Runt,” he promised quietly. “Only one.”

“Got one already,” you frowned as you crossed your arms. “Stole it.”

He leaned in closer to you until you could feel his breath on your neck. “Couldn’t help it,” he offered quietly, “m’sorry— just needed to kiss you.”

You turned and looked at him again, his face so close that you shivered a little.

“Should let me kiss you again,” he said, “see if y’like it this time, so.”

You hesitated, staring into his icy blue eyes. “Think I will?” you wondered.

“Yeah, scared you before,” he said, “didn’t tell you nothin’ before I did it— that’s why you didn’t like it. Try again, yeah?”

You bit your lip, seeing how he smiled at you— it didn’t match his eyes. His smile was friendly and soft, but his eyes were darting back and forth between your own, anxiously searching them. He wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he wanted you to think he was; he looked a little terrified. It actually relieved you more than the cool-and-collected act did— you were terrified, too. And maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Please,” he whispered.

The last thing you wanted was to hurt him, and you knew you would if you turned him down. Nervously, you nodded, and the way he smiled at you warmed your heart. He grabbed your face— gently, still— and pressed his lips to yours. You tried to kiss him back this time, moving your lips slowly with his, and his thumb stroked your cheek as he tilted his head a bit more.

When he broke away a few moments later, he smiled at you with his face close to yours, and put two more pecks on your lips before finally letting go of your head.

“Love kissing you,” he mumbled, “taste so sweet, Runt…”

You smiled a little at the compliment. “You taste like toothpaste,” you admitted with a giggle, and his cheeks got a bit pinker.

“Ah, Runt,” he cooed, “jus’ didn’t want you tastin’ my lunch— s’not what you want, is it? To kiss me and taste Tayto crisps?”

You laughed and shook your head, while he pulled you closer and wrapped you up in his arms. You shivered a little as he kissed the top of your head, inhaling deeply the scent of your hair.

He grabbed you by it suddenly, wrenching your head back and kissing you again— harder, and shoving his tongue into your mouth. You moaned a little in shock and protest, but he just moaned back at you.

“Pig!” you managed to yelp out, muffled by his lips, and he hummed proudly.

“Need ya, Runt,” he groaned, letting go of your hair and starting to hold you tightly. You whimpered as he kissed you so hungrily, unsure what to do or think.

“Jus’ a kiss, Pig,” you reminded him, but he groaned and started to hold your neck, moving his hand down to the collar of your t-shirt.

“Jus’ a kiss,” he repeated, grabbing your shoulder painfully tight to keep you still as he started to kiss on your jaw. “Jus’ a kiss, so— no more?”

“No, Pig,” you insisted, really thinking he would stop; but you both heard the whimpery moan that you let out when he kissed the very right spot on your neck…

“Oh,” he purred, moving his hand to tickle your chest again, “Runt like it— like the kisses? Moan again all pretty, girl…”

You yelped and slapped his hand when it started to dip into your shirt, touching the edge of your bra.

“Eh!” he whined, backing away and shaking his hand out. “What’cha slap Piggy hand for?”

“One kiss, you said!” you reminded him with a whine.

“Sorry, pal,” he laughed, “thought you liked it— way you moan an’ all…”

You bit your lip, because you couldn’t deny that it felt good— but the alarms in your head had gone off the second he touched under your shirt. What did he have to do that for, if you were just kissing?

“S’okay if you’re scared,” he promised, “doesn’t mean we can’t—”

“Stop,” you said sharply, turning away a bit, needing more time to think. You crossed your arms and turned away, and he slid closer to you on the bed.

“Runt, I—”

“Stop talkin’, Pig,” you pleaded. “Don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”

He laughed nervously, looking away and then back at you; his hand came to rest on your arm. “Pig never hurt Runt,” he promised. “You’re my life. I’d never hurt you.”

“Mine too,” you returned softly, meeting his gaze again. It wasn’t really that you were afraid he would hurt you… it just made you feel strange. “Don’t feel right, this,” you told him.

His smile fell, and he looked at you with the saddest eyes— you couldn’t take seeing them, so you looked down, but he reached and turned your chin so you’d look at him again. “How’s it not feel right, us?” he wondered. “King and Queen— s’always us, pal.”

“Eh, I know,” you breathed, “but… not like that.”

“Not like kiss?” he pressed, lowering his voice, his fingers dragging along your arm and down to yours, where he tickled your hand until you turned your palm up for him. “Not like touch?”

A shaky sigh fell from your lips as his fingers tickled your hand.

“Not like…” he continued, whispering now, watching your face as you watched his hand, “fuck?”

He reached under your shirt suddenly and your hand instinctively raised to hit him again, but when it came down his other hand caught it harshly at the wrist.

“No slap,” he warned sharply. “I’s only talking, Runt—”

“Talkin’ about a fuck!” you noticed with a frown. “Pig, we can’t—!”

“Why not? We grown,” he insisted.

“But… but we…” you mumbled, looking at him and losing your train of thought.

“Wanted you, Runt,” he admitted with a sigh as you looked at him. “Wanted you so long…”

“You did?” you pressed nervously, and he must have confused your shyness for coyness, because he smirked and nodded before pulling you a little closer.

“Held your hand at night,” he whispered in your ear, “had the other one on m’cock, real tight…”

He smiled and licked his lips, but you pushed your legs together shyly. He’d really been doing that while you were holding his hand?

“So pretty, Runt,” he praised softly, fingertips running up those clenched thighs, “prettiest girl there is, yeah? Only girl worth looking at, I think— can’t be another but you, Runt, s’gotta be you.”

You looked away, unsure what to think or feel about that. You’d never really thought about Pig being with any other girl, he’d certainly never shown interest in any— but did that mean you had to be with him?

He started to lift up the bottom of your shirt, and you jumped slightly as you tried to push his hands back down. “Why don’t you let me see you?” he pouted. “Used to have baths together.”

“When we was babbas,” you remembered, “s’different now.”

“Why’s it gotta be different?” he shrugged.

You never agreed to it, you just stopped fighting it— he lifted your shirt again, and you nervously let him take it off of you; a shiver passed over you from the slight chill in the room.

“See? Not so bad,” he said. “Now the bra too—”

“Pig,” you whimpered, “feels weird.”

“I know,” he agreed, “but doesn’t it feel good, too? Tingly, right between t’pretty legs?”

All these compliments only added to your confusion— because yes, it felt nice and sweet when Pig said such lovely things to you. And he was right, too: his fingers tracing the edge of your bra did make a hot, strange feeling stir between your legs. You didn’t want him to touch you there, really, but you also got the sense that if he did, it would help satisfy this sudden need for pressure.

“Show me how you take it off, Runt,” he insisted, and you shakily reached behind your back to unclasp the bra.

He sighed slightly when you opened it, but before you could slide the straps off, he reached up and held your shoulders. Pushing you back (gently) onto the bed, he laid you on your back and hovered over you with the strangest, softest expression on his face; then he guided the straps down your arms, his breath catching as he exposed your chest to him.

It made your whole body break out into goosebumps when he stared at you like that, letting your bra fall on the floor. He looked awestruck as he ran his hands up your stomach— your own breath picking up a bit as they got higher and higher— until he delicately reached your breasts, fingertips brushing against your nipples.

You almost whimpered but you bit your lip instead; his eyes were glued to them, cupping them in his hands and starting to squeeze a little more firmly. He choked on nothing when he ran his thumbs over the tips and saw them get a little harder. “Prettiest tits, Runt,” he groaned out his praise. “Look so ready for Pig to lick them…”

He leaned forward and ran a wide, flat tongue over one bud as you moaned, then closed his lips around them. You didn’t mean for your back to arch into it, or for your hand to come down and pet his hair— but you couldn’t help it. The strangeness of all this had made them so sensitive, and every swirl of his tongue around your nipple made a pulse hit between your legs.

“Mm,” he hummed proudly as he moved from one to the other, looking up at you with bright and needy eyes. You both were panting when he lifted himself up to look at you with a grin. “Could suck on them for hours, Runt, if y’keep makin’ the pretty noises for me.”

He kept his mouth on one of them and held the other in his hand— but the second hand moved down your side, to your hip, to your shorts—

You clamped your legs together again, and he frowned as he pulled his mouth away from you. “Open t’legs, Runt,” he whispered. “Let me feel.”

You sighed a little, heart racing, and obeyed, hesitantly relaxing and spreading your legs. His hand touched outside your shorts first, running over the fabric and cupping you through them. “P-Pig,” you mumbled out as he pet you, his breaths heavy and uneven as he looked down and watched his hand move over you.

Shoving his hand in your shorts, he groaned as he cupped your heat in his palm, and you squirmed a little. His fingers explored between your lips, groans escaping your throat before you could stop them. This felt incredibly strange, being touched somewhere no one else ever had before, and you groaned a little as he seemed to be trying to feel everything until he could memorize it or something.

He swirled his fingertips around your opening, smiling proudly at the squelchy sound it made. “You can hear it, Runt— ‘cause it wants me, see? Little hole wants Pig in it.”

He slipped a finger in, making you bite your lip while his fell with a heavy sigh.

“Warm,” he said simply, his eyes looking a little darker as he felt inside you.

He pulled his finger out and brought it up to his face, taking a deep inhale beside the shiny digit as you bit your lip nervously.

“Fuck, Runt, smells good,” he groaned. “Smells fuckin’ good…”

He licked his finger next, humming at the taste.

“Wanted a taste for a while, yeah?” he admitted with a lower voice. “D’ya ever think about it, Piggy licking your little cunt? Thought about my tongue inside you?”

You shook your head, but he didn’t seem to believe you.

“Thought about it,” he informed you— obviously. “Wanked and thought about it, sweet little Runt sitting on my face; making you come, kissin’ you there. An’ thought about you tasting me, too— pretty lips on my cock, that sweet tongue…”

Gasping, you looked away; you shuddered as he started to kiss your neck, and you reached up to push him away but ended up just holding onto his shoulders when his tongue tickled your pulse.

You whined loudly when he reached into your shorts again and slipped two fingers into you— the stretch stung and made your hips jerk.

“Too much, Pig!” you told him, trying to push his hand away.

“Too much?” he repeated with a laugh. “How’s the cock gonna fit if the finger’s too big?”

The hand trying to stop him ended up just holding his wrist as he curled his fingers inside you, making your legs shake completely on their own.

You were a bit relieved and disappointed at once as he took his fingers out of your shorts, but then you sat up and tried to jump away when he hooked both hands into the shorts to try to pull them down. “What’s wrong, then?” he asked.

“D-don’t want you to see,” you mumbled.

“Already touched, Runt, lemme see now,” he insisted, but you moved your hips away again with a pout. “Okay,” he relented, and for a second you thought that meant he’d stop making you do all these things, but then his hand moved to start opening his jeans, “I’ll show you first— to make it fair, so.”

You instantly shut your eyes tight when you caught a glimpse of it, the big white thing he pulled out in front of you; but then you found yourself looking, like you couldn’t help it, out of morbid curiosity. And then you just felt even more terrified, because of how thick it was, how it flexed in his hand as he held it tightly, how there was a little drop of clear liquid leaking from the tip…

“I—” you stammered, not even sure yourself what you were going to say, but he interrupted you.

“Touch it, Runt,” he whispered, somewhere between a plea and a demand. “Touch how hard…”

You shuddered as you brushed your fingers over him and the silky smooth skin of his cock, feeling empty and hollow— you couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were touching Pig there…

“Do you think it’s gonna fit, Runt?” he taunted softly. “Do you think little cunt’s gonna hurt with the big cock in it?”

“Pig, maybe not today…” you suggested weakly, overwhelmed by what you’d already done without even imagining what was next. “Maybe wait—”

“Wait, eh?” he frowned. “Mean girl, makin’ Pig wait so long an’ then some more— gettin’ the boy hard like that and wantin’ to stop now—”

“M’not ready,” you tried to explain, but he kept going, snarling at you as his anger grew.

“Little tease!” he accused. “Lettin’ me kiss you an’ all that— touch you an’ suck the little buds, all lyin’ to me that I could have you— you’re lyin’! Thought we’s pals, Runt.”

“Pals, yeah!” you agreed. “Forever! But—”

“Then let me feel,” he demanded. “Let me be inside… s’jokin’ earlier, it won’t hurt you. Pig never hurt Runt.”

You whined and looked away, and Pig put his face right by yours, breathing warmly onto your neck.

“Never,” he swore again. “I can make you feel good. Promise. It feels good, Runt… s’good to have the cock inside, for both. If you don’t like, we stop.”

“Okay,” you blurted out. “Okay, Pig… we can try.”

He smiled and sat back between your legs, pulling your shorts and panties down and biting his lip as he touched again with a full view this time. “S’pretty, Runt,” he praised quietly, spreading you with his fingers as he examined you.

You tried not to resist, hoping to force yourself to relax, but you couldn’t help but jump when you felt his cock press against your wet lower lips. “Don’t squirm, Runt, s’gonna feel good,” he promised, laying down on top of you and hovering above you.

“Scared, Pig,” you admitted with a little whine, and he smiled at you as he kissed your cheek.

“Won’t be so bad, yeah,” he assured quietly. “S’posed to happen. Boys and girls do this— it’s what we do, okay? S’posed to be like this— me and you, man and woman. And it’s so wet, Runt— you want me.”

Before you could decide if you agreed with that, he looked down and lined himself up to your opening. He sighed heavily as he plunged the swollen head into you, a totally new expression falling over his face as he looked down at you. “Ah, Runt, s’fuckin warm,” he groaned, pushing in another inch; you whined and tried to move your hips away, but he held them down as his mouth fell wide open with gasps. He watched himself do it, too— he watched the way his cock split you, even using his thumb to tug up on your clit to get a better view.

He moaned loudest when he was all the way inside, his hips flush with yours, your aching body suddenly covered in goosebumps.

“Feel it?” he grunted. “Feel how it fits just right? See? S’meant to be me an’ you, Runt.”

Just right isn’t quite how you would’ve described it, not with this stinging pain inside like he was tearing you open. You could’ve maybe gotten used to it easier if he’d just stayed still, but he started thrusting right in as soon as he’d slipped inside— you tried to reach down to grab his hip, a chance to slow him down, but he grabbed you at the wrist and pinned your hands down. “P-Pig,” you choked out, “you’re hurting me—”

“Shh,” he breathed, “s’not gonna hurt if you give it a minute. Fuck, Runt, y’feel that? It’s so good, Runt… such a good, wet hole…”

You started to sob then, but he ignored it. “Said you’d never hurt me,” you reminded him— but he only heard what he wanted.

“So big, I know,” he said proudly, pulling back enough to look down at the sight of himself inside you. “Look’it that,” he groaned, “all that sticky juice, soakin’ my cock, you’re such a good girl for me now, yeah? Runt be good for Pig…”

Another whine jumped from your throat as he moved faster, the sound of skin hitting skin beginning to fill your room.

“Ah, fuck, Runt,” he moaned louder, “s’fuckin’ tight… saved it for me, wanted me to be the one to break it in, yeah? Needed my cock to open y’up, I know it— ah, needed Pig’s cock, didn’t ya? Wanted to beg for it all sweet-like? Pig, need your cock— fuck me, Pig— say it like that.”

“No,” you whimpered, whining as he squeezed your wrists harder.

“Say how I told you,” he demanded.

You shivered a little, trying to find the courage to say something like that; it came out as a shaky, tense whisper. “F-fuck me,” you begged under your breath, and he growled before kissing your neck messily. His thrusts got a bit faster and rougher— and deeper, which you hadn’t even realized was really an option since it never seemed like he was holding back before.

“Dirty little Runt, needs a mean fuck,” he grinned. “Wants it hard. But m’gonna be nice with you— make it all sweet for the pretty Runt.”

One hand moved to hold tightly onto your hip— too tight, really, enough to bruise— and he changed the way he moved inside you: a bit faster yet again and somehow more tender, more intentional. You moaned before you could stop yourself, the crying suddenly stopping, as a different angle making his cock’s fat tip rub against some little spot inside you… it still felt horribly strange, having Pig on top of you and inside of you, but there was a sense of satisfaction building with it as well.

“Nobody else ever gonna touch you, Runt,” he informed you with a heavy sigh. “Nobody gonna touch the Runt but Pig— nobody else get to see the pretty tits, nobody else get to feel inside. It’s all just for me.”

He purred when he noticed the way your face relaxed and your body went a bit limp; you felt warm all over, especially where he filled you, and the pain was gone— at least, the physical pain. Your head still hurt with confusion and shame.

“See?” he smiled wide— impossibly wide— as you shuddered under him. “So good, Runt— y’like it, hm? Pig’s cock in you, you like it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you panted, whimpering as he fucked you a little more desperately now, not quite as patient as before. “Yeah— feels good…”

“How it’s supposed to be,” he insisted again, losing his smile to a series of heavy breaths and moans. “How it’s gotta be, Runt— gotta be me and you, King and Queen, an’ m’gonna be inside you when I want.”

You shuddered, already overwhelmed by this, let alone a standing order to be fucked whenever he wanted it.

“Such a pretty hole,” he groaned, holding onto your shoulders to keep you steady as he rocked his hips faster. “Can’t wait to fill it up…”

Your eyes went wide when you realized what he meant by that. “N-no, Pig!” you choked out. “Can’t get the spunk inside—”

“Shut it,” he snapped, covering your mouth with his hand, “s’gotta be inside, Runt, needa fill your hole. Needa see it drip out, yeah? Gonna watch all my come run out the little cunt…”

Your muffled whimpers just spurred him on more, his teeth bared as he growled by your ear.

“Give Runt the seed, yeah?” he grunted, fucking you harder. “Fill the needy fuckin’ hole— s’wet ‘cause it needs it. You need me.”

He took his hand off your mouth again to indulge himself in your terrified whining, pinning your flailing arms down instead and moaning as he licked and sucked on your neck.

“Wanna be pregnant, Runt? Wanna babe?”

“No, Pig!” you cried in response. “C’mon, Pig, please— jus’ pull out!”

“Mm,” he considered it, “but our little babe would be so cute, Runt— your eyes an’ my nose, haven’t you thought about it? Me an’ you, mum and dad? Sort of funny, don’t you think?”

He laughed— how could he laugh at a time like this?!

“Tell me you wan’ it inside, Runt,” he demanded. “Say it! Say you wan’ all Pig’s spunk inside!”

“I—” you began, hesitating, and he slapped your face as you yelped.

“Say it!”

“F-fuck, wan’ it inside, Pig!” you begged as you cried. “Come in me, Pig, just come, please— just come and be done, please—”

“Shh, shh,” he hissed, shutting his eyes tight as his hips moved faster. “Ah, fuck, can’t wait anymore… m’coming, Runt—”

He gasped loudly and held your hips too tightly as he pushed himself as deep as he could go. Your eyes and mouth open, you simply looked up at the ceiling, paralyzed and speechless as he groaned and spasmed a bit.

“We one now,” he whispered to you, kissing the side of your face. “Man and woman.”

You could only blink numbly as he sat up enough to look down at you, his face hovering too close above yours.

“I think Runt like it,” he grinned, cooing as a tear ran down your temple— he swiped it up with his thumb and licked it up. “Why cry?”

You sniffled and finally managed to wrench your wrist out from his grip, but you couldn’t do anything with it, so you just brought it nervously to cover your chest. “Y’hurt me, Piggy…”

“Aw,” he pouted at you, laying a little more of his weight on you, “jus’ ‘cause it’s the first, Runt. Next time be sweeter, yeah? Easier. Little pussy opened up an’ ready now.”

He gently pulled his hips back, sighing as he slipped his cock out of you, and you winced. He scooted himself down and put his face right close between your legs, making you try to close your thighs together— but he just held them open and used his thumb to pull your lips apart more.

“Ah, shit,” he frowned, “s’too deep, hasn’t run out yet. Can y’push it out, Runt? So I can see?”

“S-stop lookin’ at it, Pig,” you whimpered a little, feeling self-conscious about his face so close to you there…

“But s’pretty,” he giggled quietly. “C’mon, Runt, just push so Pig can see all the spunk come out.”

Though your face had never felt so warm and you cringed at the request, you pushed just once and felt a warm trickle run down from your hole to the seam of your ass.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Prettiest thing, that is. Runt full’a Pig, all the seed pourin’ out…”

He dragged two fingers up through the sticky path down from your pussy, pushing the come back into you as you whimpered from both the soreness and the fear of what might happen now that he’d done that to you.

While your body shivered helplessly and your mind raced with thoughts, all you could do was lay there and blink at the ceiling as he laid down beside you. He hummed as he pulled you into a tight hug. “Love ya, Runt,” he whispered, smiling still. “You’re my life. It’s us now, yeah? King and Queen…”

He laughed, in a giddy sort of way, and held you even closer as he buried his face in your neck.

“King and Queen,” he repeated, “forever and ever and ever, yeah…?”

#well... this is... um... dunno what to say about this.#disco pigs smut #darren pig x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy dark fic

1K notes · View notes

sunsetsimon · 1 month

Note

not smutty but, what do you think the boys love languages are?

(sorry if you already answered this)

also, love your blog and so relieved to hear that you’re okay🩷🩷

thank you so much darling <3

johnny's love language is physical touch. he feels most connected to you when he's able to cuddle, hug, and hold you. deployments become harder the longer you're together as he doesn't want to be gone as long. phone calls and letters matter to him greatly of course, but all he can think about is having you back in his arms.

some of his favorite things to do are giving you massages, showering/bathing together, cuddling, and holding hands. he's always sneaking his hand under the table to grab yours, pulling it to rest on his thigh so he can play with your fingers. lightly rubbing each knuckle, his soft touch tickles you, a silent way for him to say "i love you".

his favorite place for you to touch him is on the back of his neck.

simon's love language is quality time. all he wants to do is be around you, even if there's no talking involved. having your presence calms him and makes him feel complete. you constantly catch him staring at you, his eyes following you every time you move around the room as if he'd miss something. don't even think about being slick about something, simon will see it!

his favorite part of the day is winding down in bed with you, reading his book while you lay beside him, searching for a show to watch on the tv. if you're going out to do something, he automatically assumes that he'll be going with you. what do you mean you're going to the store without him? :( of course he still gives you your space, but if you ask him, he'll say he doesn't need any.

si is clingy in his own little ways <3

kyle's love language is words of affirmation. he loves to talk to you, sharing new thoughts and facts with each other constantly. he’s listening of course, keeping every word locked in a special corner of his mind, dedicated for you. but he can’t help but get distracted by your beauty. those lips that he loves to kiss so much, your facial expressions that he loves to read, your gestures that he loves to watch, kyle is so smitten.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says randomly, after you’ve just spent the last few minutes explaining the book you’ve been reading. it takes you aback, blinking at him until you realize what he’d said.

“thank you,” you blush, completely forgetting what you’d just been saying. his gaze suddenly feels intense, the love radiating off of his body and filling the room.

“c’mere and give me a kiss.”

john's love language is acts of service. no matter how much you beg him to relax, he feels the constant need to be doing something. and what better to stay busy with than doing everything for his partner? if he knows that it’ll take you energy to do it, he’s making sure it gets done before you can even think about it!

keeping the bills in order, cleaning, cooking dinner, grocery shopping, you name it - john’s on it. he doesn’t particularly enjoy doing mundane life things, but he feels fulfilled when he’s able to take care of you in more ways than just financially.

you have to beg him to just relax with you, to order take out and cuddle while watching random movies all night. of course he can’t resist you though, anything to make his partner happy :)

könig's love language is physical touch! he's not one for PDA, but he will rest his hand at the small of your back just to guide you and keep you close. good luck escaping him at home though, because he'll find any excuse to touch you!

back hugs, gripping your thigh, washing you in the shower, he wants it all. könig is huge, about twice the size of most humans, so he uses this to his advantage to trap you in bed with him. his body pins you to the mattress, forcing you to submit to his nonstop cuddles.

“where are you trying to go? everything you need is right here,” he says, pointing to himself as you squirm underneath him.

“the restroom isn’t! so let me go pee!”

#these are so bad um #grossing myself out #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #könig x reader #john price x reader #john mactavish x reader #kyle garrick x reader

541 notes · View notes

that-foul-legacy-lover · 10 months

Text

SAGAU thoughts, let's go

Ajax, an Abyss-touched mortal, who has long been told that his violent nature would never garner favor with the gods, much less the Creator. Childe, whose Harbinger comrades care not for the myths of the Creator, preferring to forge their own path. they tell him, the youngest, to allow the Creator to hate him- if that is the exchange for writing their own destinies, the Fatui will gladly take it.

but for Childe, it hurts to think this way. even more so for Foul Legacy; the Abyssal creatures who only have one salvation, the hands of the all-loving Creator. to hear that the Creator will hate him breaks his heart, Legacy taking over their shared body and curling into a corner to sob, taking comfort in the darkness of Childe's room.

the Creator is never seen nor heard, yet still guards all of Teyvat- which is why it's such a surprise when you end up getting tossed into Mondstadt, ripped away from your familiar world into another. it's still familiar, only not in the way you expect, having seen Teyvat behind a screen all this time. all the characters you know and love seem to be dedicated to worshiping you, praising your grace and power and watching your every move.

it's extremely overwhelming. you just want to befriend your favorite characters- the most beloved of which you can't even find! but you're stubborn and determined above all else, and set out alone to find out where Childe, your favorite DPS, could be hiding.

he shies away when he sees you in the distance, your features familiar from so many books and carvings, but instead of disgusted, you look... excited? he blinks, and suddenly you seem much smaller, Foul Legacy's love for you allowing him to hijack Childe's body for a moment. Legacy yelps and shrinks back further, trying to hide himself to avoid what he assumes must be a scornful glare. but instead he feels gentle hands cupping his cheeks, your soft laughter music to his ears as you greet him.

"Hello, Legacy."

his wings flutter upon hearing your kind voice utter his name, with all the love and affection you can give, and when your arms wrap tightly around his waist he feels like he could sing. your hands move to scritch under his chin, and Foul Legacy croons in delight, allowing himself to melt into your touch, snuggling his masked face into your palms. the taint of the Abyss seems far away, the pain soothed beneath your fingertips as Legacy begins to purr for the first time in his life, holding you, his beloved Creator, close to him.

and you let him, hugging him back, because you adore Childe, Foul Legacy, and the Abyss with all your divine heart.

1K notes · View notes

harbingersglory · 4 months

Text

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, transfem arlecchino {☆} warnings 18+ content, breeding kink, degradation, stomach bulge, dacryphilia, restraints

"Arle, hah..please. I can't– I can't wait any longer."

The pleading, almost pouty, words had her letting out a deep, husky chuckle as she fiddled with the buckle of her belt, admiring your body as she stepped up to the bed. Her knee sank into the mattress as she knelt down, pressing a placating kiss to your brow and gesturing for you to turn over.

"Come on, dove. Be a good girl, or I'll treat you like the whore you are." Arlecchino clicked her tongue, firmly grabbing your hands and tightening her belt around your wrists, giving the leather a firm tug to test its strength– and to make sure it wasn't too tight. "I'm in a good mood. Don't spoil it by being a brat, little dove."

The pout it drew from you made her grin, canines flashing beneath her lips as she settled in behind you, cupping your ass in her calloused hands with an appreciative grumble. Your panties were already sticking to your cunt, the fabric soaked. She couldn't help but drag one of her digits across the fabric, teasing your folds beneath it.

"Lucky I adore that pretty mouth of yours or I'd have cut out your tongue," She gruffly spoke, her tone neither in jest or too serious– perhaps she would, maybe she wouldn't. She liked to keep you on your toes. "Hm. Maybe I'll use your throat after– shut you up properly. You look so pretty gagging on my cock, you know?"

Arlecchino slid her fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them down just enough to see your slick cunt, her fingers pulling the folds apart. Fuck, she could feel her cock throbbing against her boxers at the sight– she'd never get tired of it, just like she'd never get tired of using you like a toy.

"But in the meantime.." She finally pulled down her own boxers, her aching cock slipping free and slapping against your thigh– she slid right between your thighs, forcing you to squeeze them together around her. "Fuck, that's it." She growled, pumping her hips a few times before she was satisfied, lining up her cock with your entrance.

She had the decency, at least, to sink in slowly at first..let you adjust to her size for a brief moment before she snapped her hips forward and sank fully into your cunt with a sharp hiss.

Arlecchino typically enjoyed teasing you first, making you practically beg just for her to give you her cock at all, but she had other plans tonight– she wasn't going to waste time playing around this time. Her hand slipped down to your stomach pressed against the mattress, a low chuckle building in her chest at the distinct bulge her cock left. It was a wonder she fit at all– but she'd make it fit even if she hadn't.

"Be a good girl now and don't complain." She grumbled, leaning down to press you down into the mattress with her body, nipping at your ear before she pulled her hips back, hissing at the way you clenched around her in response. She took a moment to sit there, letting you ruminate and squirm at the lack of movement– only to grab a fistful of hair and start pounding you into the mattress before you can even think to whine about her lack of movement.

How quickly, how easily, you turn into a blubbering mess as she uses you like a toy for her own enjoyment. Not that you won't enjoy what she has in plan for you– just maybe not as much as she does. The mental image of filling you with her cum..it drives her thrusts harder, faster. She wants to fuck you stupid with her cock, fill you to the breaking point until her cum pools on the sheets, unable to be fully plugged up. Just the idea of watching her cum dripping down your thighs makes her control slip just the slightest bit.

She's already big enough to bulge your stomach with every thrust, but she wonders if she can push it further.

She certainly wants to, and she intends to.

The fat tears rolling down your cheeks only got her more excited, her hands gripping your hips so tight she can already imagine the bruises in the shape of her fingers against your skin.

"That's it, dove, give in," Arlecchino hissed, a low growl rumbling in her chest as she continued to pound into them relentlessly, her thighs already stinging from the sheer force of it. "Fucking take it, you whore."

Her muscles flexed in faint restraint, the shifting of your arms against her as you nearly screamed at the intense rush of pleasure making her sink her teeth into your shoulder in warning– a futile effort, really, as your body twitched when you came so hard she briefly considered if she had to stop..but you were still moaning even through the tears rolling down your cheeks, rocking back into her thrusts weakly, unable to keep up.

She wasn't too far behind, either. Her teeth dug deeper into your skin, muffling the growl as she plunged into your soaking wet cunt, bucking into you in much shorter thrusts until she finally felt her cum spilling into you. It was almost enough to send her over the edge again– fuck, you were practically sucking her in with how tight you were, squeezing around her cock.

Her head slumped against your shoulder as she pulled her teeth from your skin, taking a moment of respite to catch her breath and let the sting and ache settle in deep– she welcomed it, if anything. But she wasn't done.

She was going to fuck you till you were full– fill you up until she couldn't fit another drop.

For now..she pulled out, admiring the way her cum dribbled out of you. She didn't mind all that much..she was going to replace it tenfold, anyway.

She couldn't wait to plug you up and see you squirm during the meeting tomorrow, full of her cum and unable to find relief– maybe she'd make it a toy, see how long you last before someone realizes what's going on. She was going to enjoy it thoroughly.

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader #minors dni #writing tag #arlecchino smut #arlecchino x reader #so. um. yeah. we r not gonna talk abt this one I was feeling indulgant and shdhdgsjsjsjsj #arlecchino awakens smth in me idk dont ask me #i considered making this tmasc arle for a hot minute but ill save that for another day #anyway manspreading arle agenda thsnks 4 coming 2 my tedtalk #anyway² slamming hands on table arle breeding kink arle breeding kink arle breeding kink #technically no actual direct mention of breeding but shes still trying anyway #sorry im in an arle phade i need her to do unspeakable things to me yknow. you get me.#PHASE not phade its 3 am and i csbt sleep twirls hair #accidentally posted this draft premature im AHHHHHHHH #okay im fine now

889 notes · View notes

yeyinde · 1 year

Note

OK but i need to know if price allows his wife to trim his beard …can you please write a drabble on it to feed my price addiction

Oh, absolutely!! I bet it’s easier for him to have someone he trusts cut his hair for him. His beard, though—I imagine he grooms it himself (too many oh, sir, you should cut it this way—), and he prefers a straight razor over a blade. If he really, really trusts you, he'll let you do it for him, but he's been grooming his beard since he was 28, and so. No one does it better than he does.

His hair, however? He considers it a free cut.

》 WARNINGS: Um. Just some domestic bliss, really. Bantering. Allusions to sexual content, PTSD, and trust issues (not as serious as it sounds; just briefly mentioned). This is basically just gratuitous fluff. This was written with absolutely no discernible characteristics for the Reader—gender-neutral reader 》 WORD COUNT: 1,9k

"Hold still."

"Holdin' as still as I can, love."

His words are thick—little more than a grumble rasped into the collar of his shirt, distorted from the tilt of his head, chin resting on his sternum.

To someone else, his tone might be misconstrued as waspish; a scathing snap sawed between his clenched teeth, and coloured in a thick paint of impatience.

But you know him more than most, and the huffiness of his tone only serves to amuse you.

(Your irascible man.)

Still.

Your fingers snake through the overgrown locks on the top of his hand until you have a fistful trapped tight between each of your digits, and then you tug just so. A warning. Not enough to hurt him, of course, but enough that it makes him tense—makes him groan.

His voice loses the surly pinch, and sounds decidedly breathless—a fact that makes you stifle a grin.

"Gonna start somethin' you can't finish, you bloody minx."

"Gonna cut your skin if you don't stop wriggling around," you volley back.

He huffs, shoulders slumping down with his sharp exhale. "Just get on with it. Getting stiff sittin' like this."

You ease off the clutch of his hair, but keep the locks between your fingers, eyeing the length, before nodding to yourself, and bringing the scissors close to the tuffs spilling out.

The snipping sound of the shears cutting through his hair fills your small washroom. His shoulders seem to relax, if only slightly, as you work.

You cut the locks between your pinky and ring finger shorter than the rest, and wince.

"You know," you murmur, brows furrowing as you try to gauge whether or not it's passable enough to be overlooked, or if you'll need to cut all of it shorter to match. "You could go to a barber. A professional."

He grunts. You know what he's going to say before he says it, and you wordlessly mimic the words that leave his lips:

"Cheaper this way, ain't it?" He drops his chin when you nudge his head.

Cutting his hair has become a small tradition between you, one that started a few months into your relationship when he showed up at your door, three hours late to a planned date with a bucket hat on his head, and a package of forget-me-nots in his hand (seeds, he said, because flowers will wilt and die in a day but if you plant them in your garden, they'll regrow forever). His hair was longer than usual, curling just under his chin, and the sight of him—so frazzled and unkempt compared to how put together he normally was—made something inside of you ache.

He'd rushed here as soon as he could, complaining that his flight was delayed, and his barber quit on him, and all the while, your fingers itched with the urge to run them through his overgrown locks, to feel the silken hair against your palm.

(To grip tight and not let go.)

The words slipped out with very little conscious thought: I can cut it for you.

He seemed almost caught off-guard, but the obvious discomfort of having his hair tickle the nape of his neck made his acquiescence much easier.

You discovered that night just how much you liked having his hair in your hands, and he seemed to realise that fucking you against the wall, while you tugged on his freshly cut hair, in lieu of payment was much more preferable than dealing with a barber.

"No," he grouses. "They're always goin' on 'bout undercuts, and tryin'a get me to shave my chops, and I ain't dealin' with that when I 'ave you."

"Free labour?"

"Hardly." He scoffs. "Gonna break my damned back one of these days, you bloody—"

"—hold still, love," the stolen endearment makes him shudder, but he quiets when you rest the flat of the blade over the crest of his ear, cutting the overgrown hair around his sideburns. "That's it. Good boy."

"Keep playing with me, love, and I'll show you who's a good—"

Another tug. His scorching words taper off into a growl.

"You don't seem to complain much when you pull me in for another round—ah, ah—" You tug his hair again when he moves, fighting a wide grin. The plastic handles of the scissors slide back until it arches off the back of your hand, thumb brushing the loose hair from behind his ear. "God, you're so stubborn. You want to get cut, don't you?"

"Trust you not to leave me a bloody mess by the end of this."

With his chin dipped so far down into his collar, his words are honey-thick and robust, and the deep cadence alone makes your toes curl in your slippers.

"Trust me that much, hmm?"

Despite the transparent barb, the tease in your slightly breathless tone, he doesn't hesitate. "With my life."

"Aren't you a charmer?"

"Almost done? I'll show you how charming I can be—"

"Nearly. Would've finished an hour ago if you'd keep still."

He grumbles again, but the words are swallowed by the snip of the scissors. An impasse blooms in the scant space between your front, and his broad back. Comfortable, like all silences with him have become. Despite your griping, cutting his hair is soothing—intimate in a way you'd never come to expect it to be.

It might be the explicit trust he places in your hands when you direct him to tilt his chin for you at a mere tap against his jaw, or the crown of his head. Wordlessly following your commands as soon as they're conveyed.

To anyone else, such a display is commonplace, but you've been through the thick of everything to know that exposing his neck in such a vulnerable way to you, and so soon after a mission, is more meaningful than any declaration of trust could ever be. The innate drive to protect his fragile pieces from harm often leads to him flinching away from the sharp end of the shears, but it diminishes just as quickly as it rears, and he sits, docile and accommodating, for you. Allowing you this minuscule power over him.

Maybe that's why he refuses to see a barber, opting to let you chop his hair in whichever style you deem attractive instead. Explaining to someone else why he's so tense, why he sometimes can't stifle the small jerk when cold metal kisses the nape of his neck, seems tiresome. The unneeded opening of a barely healed scab.

It was a battle getting him to open up to you, to let you invade his space, and squeeze through the splinters in his resolve when it became clear that you weren't going anywhere that wasn't with him.

The thought of it alone warms you. The ache in your joints from holding your hands still, cutting through the thick tufts of hair, feels like a small burden in comparison to what he's shown you with this.

It's been barely five hours since he touched down at Heathrow. His duffle bag is still packed. His fatigues are still on. He hadn't even showered off the stench of the mission, or scoured the blood and dirt from between his nails, and yet—

You tap his cheek. His head lifts, and then lists to the side. The smooth curve of his neck is exposed. His exterior vein throbs through his sun-kissed skin.

Affection blossoms in your chest.

"Missed you."

The words are barely a whisper, but his eyes peel open, icy blue finding yours as you lean over him, getting the last patch of hair near his temple.

John says nothing in response, but he doesn't have to. You see it all—feel it. The vein in his neck throbs more intensely as his heart rate picks up, and that alone is more than an echoed sentiment in return. It's enough.

But still:

His hand lifts with a deliberate slowness until the pads of his fingers kiss your wrist. He burns red-hot—skin just as fiery as his temper—and the warmth of his rough skin bleeds into you when he wraps his full palm over your arm, thumb brushing your flesh in a distinct pattern.

When you recognise it, you falter.

It isn't quite Morse code, but it's something he taught you on the eighth date when you asked if the wordless hand signals were accurate in the movie you'd just seen. His hand found yours as he led you out of the theatre, and down the cold, wet streets of Liverpool.

"No," he snorted, derisively. And then spent the three blocks back to your flat showing you the different commands they used in the SAS, and the ones he taught his men. "If you can, skin on skin is better. Less likely to be seen. We save it for hostage situations. Like this—"

Blisteringly intense cerulean never wavers from yours as he lets you feel the words he rasps over your skin.

You try not to tremble with the shears pressed too close to his skin, and quietly pull them away. He watches as you place them on the ledge of the vanity, hand never releasing yours.

You brush the loose hair from his shoulders, trying to hide a smile.

"All done."

John hums, the noise a crackling ember that fills the hush in the room, and notches between your ribs where it sticks against your thudding heart.

"What's the verdict?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?"

Loose hair falls from his shoulders when he stands until it dusts across the tile below his feet. He leans over the sink, shaking his head above the basin, before settling, angling his chin as he takes in your shoddy handiwork.

"Looks good."

You snort. "Sure. I'll have to go over it once you finish showering because someone wouldn't sit still long enough for me to clip around your crown, and—"

He turns to face you, and the playful diatribe is cut off when his warm palms fit against your hips. It's his turn to tug, and he does so with a sharp jerk of his wrists, pulling you taut to his chest.

His eyes bore down into yours, mirthful blue. "Yes, yes," his eyes roll briefly toward the ceiling, lips curling into a soft smirk. "But someone kept tryin'a clip my ears, and pullin' on my hair."

"Someone, eh?" You volley coyly, reaching up, and curling your fingers into the bristles of hair spilling from his cheeks.

At your gentle touch, his expression shifts to contemplative. His chin tilts when your nails graze his skin.

"You like my beard, don't you?"

Your brow lifts in question. "Yes, you know I do. Why? The boys making fun of you for it?"

"Gaz said I looked like an Edwardian lord—" you snort at the comparison. He pinches your side. "Watch it."

"Is that all?"

"Soap said they're grabable."

"Yeah, they are," you purr, taking in as much as you can in your fists. "Very steerable, too. But why is Soap concerned about that?"

"Said someone could grab 'em. Drag me by 'em, and—"

"Like his mohawk?"

He concedes your point with a flash of teeth. "You don't think I need to trim 'em?"

"And lose my handlebars? No way—"

His darken. "Dirty little thing, aren't you?"

"For you? Always."

"Mmm," he tilts his chin down, and presses his mouth to yours, teeth nipping your bottom lip. "Insatiable little minx."

"You love it."

"You know I do." His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh. When you peer up at him, his pelagic gaze turns turbid with desire. "Now, about your payment…"

#captain john price #john price x reader #fluff only on a yey fic??#inconceivable #UM #i promise i'll edit this later #(maybe)#captain john price x reader #john price #captain price x reader #captain price #cod drabbles #cod price #price x reader #price x you

2K notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 10 months

Text

Hole in One

I promised nsfw of him and here it is:)

Word Count: 3K

A/N: I saw art where he has like these fucking tendrils come out of his face hole and I needed that<3

Jonathan has certainly changed after the Super-Collider. Not only was his appearance affected, with his body elongating and compressing, but also features disappearing. However, his personality was also altered. He’s become more possessive, and clingy. He hardly ever allows you to leave your home during your days off. Sure, you have to go and buy groceries and run your errands, but he needs you.

If you were to be honest with yourself, you like being needed. You adored the attention that he was giving you. You thrived under it, knowing that you were the one that he cared so much for.

So when you come home and he calls for you, touching and rutting against you while you sit on his lap, you roll your hips, feeling yourself leak arousal. It’s been too long since you’ve had any sort of intimacy with him that led to sex. Most intimacy ended right before it got physical, and you knew that would be an issue- he was still insecure about his body- you only had your fingers to pleasure yourself in the shower. Now that he has you on his lap, rutting and whining about how nice and sweet you are to him, you want nothing more than to have anything of him inside of you.

You press your lips to kiss against his jawline, peppering him in soft kisses and letting your hands cup over his chest. His hands find themselves over your hips, going under your shirt to feel your skin. “I gotta say,” you mumble, “I miss your nipples.” He hisses out your name and you smile as you kiss down his neck. “It’s true. You were always so sensitive-” the pad of your thumb swipes over where they should have been- “always whined and buck when I’d twist them.”

“I wouldn’t whine,” he mewls, looking down at you. Pinching softly as the skin on your stomach, he tilts his head. “I miss being able to kiss you.”

Smiling softly, you press a kiss on the edge of one his spots near the collarbone. “I tried not to bring it up before, but you’re um, kinda flat down there.”

“Huh?”

“You’re missing your dick, Jonny,” you murmur, rimming a hole with the point of your index finger.

“Oh um-” he clears his throat and the spot on his face divots at the top- “it's in a hole.”

Your brows furrow. “What?”

“Watch.” His hand shots down to his middle, and between the small space that you’ve created, his knuckles bump against your crotch. You roll your hips against his knuckles and he’s polite enough not to say anything. Oh, it really has been a while since you’ve had any sort of action. You watch as a spot forms, swirling and dark, little lines of it rippling around, and you blink and suddenly, you’re staring at his cock.

With a watering mouth, you realize that it really has been a while. “Fuck Jonathan,” you mumble, trying to keep yourself composed.

“Good or bad?” He asks, uncertainty and insecurity twisted into his words.

Having to peel your eyes away from his cock, you look up at him. “Mind if I blow you?” He nods rapidly. “Cool.” You kiss at the edge of the spot on his face.

You sit on your knees, your hands pushing against his thighs to spread his legs. Appearing from the hole, the cock springs upwards, pure white, lacking any kind of spots. There’s a bit of coloration- a light gray that you wonder if it’s supposed to be his own coloration except in monochrome, or if it's blushing. From the hole, his package also exits the spot, resting over the edge. The spot itself is perfectly shaped for him with dark swirling lines around the edge of the hole, but there are no gaps- not an inch of room for you to rim and poke around.

“You’re bigger than before,” you say in a whisper. Moving closer to his erection, you press your face against it. “A lot bigger.” You can feel your cunt twitch at the thought of him going inside of you.

He’s looking down at you, his spot dilated and swirling. “You uh- like it?”

It really has been a while for you. You don’t even want to answer him- all that you can think about it putting him in your mouth. His skin is different than before, almost like a latex feel- or rubber. You aren’t entirely sure of the proper comparison but at the moment, it doesn’t matter.

Pressing a kiss against his cockhead, you pull back, swiping a tongue underneath his head. Other than the color and stretched size, it looks exactly like his did before- down to the vein on the underside, the soft curve to it, and the leaking head. You grab at the base of his cock, and he mumbles your names, hands lifting weakly before they fall back to the bed with a thump. Your tongue peeks out and you swipe over the slit, tasting the semen on your tongue.

It still tastes like him.

Oh, you’ve really missed him.

“Can you-” he falters with his sentence- “Please,” he begs.

You open your mouth to him, pushing yourself midway, already feeling his cockhead hit the back of your throat. He’s much longer than before. Pulling away, a thin sheen of spit covers him. Your hand wraps around his base, pumping him, and you return to him, feeling his thighs jolt at the touch. Taking him into your mouth, you can feel how hot and heavy he feels, and he leaks into your mouth, and you greedily swallow it all.

There’s never been a stronger want than now. You need him. You worship him, suckling him and hollowing your cheeks, desperate as he is to make him cum. Your jeans rub against your crotch, and you can't think how his heavy scent fills your lungs and makes your mouth water. Unbuckling them right now is the least of your concerns when you can just rut against the friction with the thick material. Pulling his cock off of your mouth, it bobs and taps against your face, leaving your spit sticking to your skin. You watch in awe as it reaches well past your face. Even thinking about it going inside of you makes you want to skip the foreplay and just put it in. The sting of it might actually be worth it.

Pushing yourself back against his cock, you take him again, shivering at how thick even his pre-ejacualtion is. Oh, your poor Jonathan- too pent up for who knows how long. You;d make up for lost time, you’re sure of it. You won’t let go of his cock until the both of you are spent and even then, you’d want him to be buried deep in your cunt, stretching and hitting deep at your core. You moan against him, the thought of him filling you with his seed and keeping it inside of you makes your cunt throb.

Your jaw almost hurts with how you have to push so far down, choking and spit dribbling in the corner of your mouth. But he sounds so good, moaning and panting your name with his hand holding onto the crown of your head. You focus on slurping him, suckling on his cockhead like it would produce you milk, moaning and rubbing yourself against the seam of your pants while he jerks and moans.

He calls your name, broken and low, his hand fisting into your hair. “I’m gonna- Fuck!” He tilts his head back, bucking his hips into your mouth, his cockhead pushing against the inside of your cheek. “Your mouth- I fucking-” The sound of you gagging echoes in your ears, and you can feel strands of spit spill from your mouth.

Your hand grasps onto his package, massaging and rolling the pair around in your hand. It feels so heavy in your hands- burning and weighted with pent frustration. Adjusting him in your mouth, your lips circle around the middle of his cock, his seed spilling and filling your mouth. It’s thick, and gooey, resting flat on your tongue and when you lean back, spills past the corner of your lips. Looking up at him, there are tears in your eyes, and your mouth closes, swallowing the seed and letting it burn down your throat.

As you stand, you can feel how slick your underwear is. It slips and sticks and you need to take off everything. You’re too hot- too aroused to even want to consider giving him a show, but as he looks at you, his cock stays erect, twitching as a gossamer string of cum hangs and drips onto the floor.

Your clothes fall into a pile and he’s looking at you with his spot swirling and erratic, and you can’t help but smile. Oh, that has to be a good sign. There’s fleeting spots of gray that stretch over his face, and you’re pulled on the bed.

Laying on the bed with your legs bent, you watch as he dips his face down. The hands on your legs squeeze, and you suck in a breath through your teeth. You can feel his face nuzzle against your thighs, soft little upwards strokes that lead down to your cunt.

A hand lets go of you, and you wait, and wait, the anticipation killing you and making you throb. You think about calling his name, wanting him to do something other than just stare at you. Something wet slicks against your cunt, and you yelp, body lifting and skin crawling with goosebumps. It’s wet and feels slimy- a feeling that you aren’t totally opposed to. His tongue- you think it’s his tongue- slides around your cunt.

“I’m sorry! I just- I wanted to try- Are you okay?” He peeks his head up from between your thighs.

“I uh- No, no. That was just a surprise. Keeping going,” you say breathlessly.

Your hands fist into the cover and you feel him lap at your cunt. It oozes over you, thin and viscid, snaking down the inside of your thighs to the bedsheets. You buck your hips. Gasps and moans fill the room, and you need him to keep going. His tongue zigzags over your cunt in fat strides, the point of it liking upwards around your hardened clit. Your hands find themselves at your breasts, pulling and twisting at your nipples.

He does such a good job with whatever he’s using.

“Fuck, Jonathan!” You yelp, lifting your hips when something else laps at your cunt, when something smaller and thinner teases at the edge of you, dipping in to feel you clench around him, but pulling away with ease. “No- Fuck, inside, please,” you moan, bucking your hips.

It doesn’t feel like it’s his hands, and it can’t be his hands because they’re holding your thighs, stretching and pushing them away. You don't have much time to think about it when your clit is rubbed with the flat of his tongue.

Something wet is against your crotch and you aren't sure what it is, it feels like it's a lot- thick and slimy. You grind against his face with stuttering hips and a twitchy cunt. Wet, clicking sounds fill the room, his tongue working you into a frenzy, scuttling around your heat, and his face buries deeper as if he can’t get close enough, as he has to be in you- or you in him considering how his holes work. He eats like a starving man which isn’t completely untrue- and he’s simply lapping and swiping at your sex.

Gasping and panting, you keen at how close you are, and in what is the cruelest he has ever been, he pulls away. You look up to see something slither back into his face hole, and he’s shining in your arousal, and his spit.

Your face is flushed and eyes squinted in frustration. “Jonathan,” you wail, a hand shooting down to finish the job yourself. Except a hole stops you, and your hand shows up on the other side of the room, reaching for you, and grabbing for nothing. “Jonathan-”

“I wanna feel,” he says, grabbing at the base of his cock, and swiping it up your cunt. His head touches at your clit, and a jolt causes you to arch your back. He slides it back down and his cock enters you. You pull your hand back, fisting when you feel him.

His hands find themselves back at your legs and he bends them, letting your cunt stretch and you feel him push further into you. Hands grips below your knees, and your hands bend to rest beside you. His thrusts are heavy and strong, and he’s bent over, looking into you as you whine and writhe under him.

Frantically, he’s burying himself deep, and you can feel it all- every twitch of his cock, the way that it stretches and makes you want to cry that it’s far too much, but you’re unable to speak, too lost on the feeling of him finally being inside of you to actually think clearly. He ruts into you, and you stare at the hole in his face. He’s so much bigger than he was before, towering over you, having to hunch himself over to keep you at face level. He’s unforgiving, whimpering and cursing under his breath. He bullies your cunt, and it’s clear that he really needed this- that he needed you. You can hear soft gasps, and moans that sound deep and strained, and you think you see his hole twitch and spasm when you call his name.

“Jonathan,” you mewl, tilting your head backwards. “‘S feels so good.” Your words are simple, mind hazy and muddled as the man before you slams his hips against yours. Sex is nothing like it was before, and you think it has to do with whatever built up pressure the two of you have had. You arch your back, your body shaking and squeezing against him as an orgasm crashes through your body. “More, more,” you plead, your hands reaching to grasp at his forearms, clawing at his skin. You don’t now why you waited to fuck him- you wouldn’t have if you knew that he was this needy and pent-up.

The spot on his face is enlarged and swirling. Staring it feels too much- like you’re going to get sucked into it and never come out. You wonder if his holes feel good too. Reaching a hand, you swirl it around one near the crook of his elbow. He thrusts into you sharply, groaning and bending his head down.

“You feel so good,” he laments. Something jolts inside of you- he sounds off, echoey and deeper. “Love how you feel.” he thrust into you and you gasp, fluttering your eyes close as he bullies your cervix. Through fluttering blinks, you watch as his jolts and the spots stretch over, almost encasing part of his shoulder in black. You wheeze and close your eyes when he pushes himself deeper into you. “‘S all mine.” You feel something wet drip on your chest and when looking, it comes out of his face hole in thick, dark drops. “I wanna be deep inside of you.” He speaks in a guttural voice as he rocks his hips into you.

There’s a knot in your stomach that tightens with every thrust, and you whine and moan, twisting and jittering as he pistons into you. You can’t bring yourself to speak, only moaning and wailing the closer that you get, the more that he fucks you in a way he hadn’t before.

“Never wanna let you go.” You return the sentiment by clamping around his cock. “I wanna fuck you,” he slurs, giving short, quick thrusts into you. “Fuck you till you’re full.”

His spots swirl and move and the way that he speaks isn’t his voice, but an echo of it, devoid of emotion, only hunger and possession that lays mixed into the vowels and constants. You really do think you’re going to be sucked into him with how serious he is.

Your body shakes and stutters as you reach your high, clamping around his cock, whining and clawing your nails into him to keep him close to you.

“Where?” He asks, his voice melding to sound more like him. “I wanna- Where?” He calls your name, weakly and shakily pushing himself inside of you. His body jolts and twitches, the hands on your squeezing and scratching your skin. “Can I cum inside?” He lowers himself, resting his forehead against your own. “Please. I wanna so bad,” he mumbles.

“Inside, please,” you mutter, reaching up to kiss at his skin that burns under your touch. “Wanna feel full.” It’s enough to set him off, chasing his high, fucking you through your own. You squeal, legs twitching and body feeling as if it's on pins.

Even as he reaches his high, he doesn’t relent- his thrusts get sloppy, but they still hold the heaviness to them. It’s like he’s making sure that when he spills into you is going to be too buried inside of you to even leak out.

Past the twitching and calling of your name, he lets his cock warm inside of you, pulling out with a groan as if leaving you is too painful to even do. He lays beside you, his cock twitching against his thigh, leaking a thick cream that can barely be distinguished from his own skin. He takes heavy breaths, fingers dancing over the bedsheets in an attempt to calm down.

You turn over, resting your hand over his. the middle of your thighs feel wet, and sticky. It leaks down and leaves a trail of warmth. His spots are smaller, back to his regular size, and while they move, they aren’t as erratic as they were before.

“That was good,” you tell him. “Fuckin’ good.”

“Mhm,” he agrees with a high-pitched voice. “Really good,” he agrees in a breathless voice. “Think we can go again?”

2K notes · View notes

yuzurins · 11 months

Text

# circles

in which: sae’s tired of running around in circles with an undefined relationship, so he decides to take his chance when he can to make you his.

warnings: kind of unorganized, mentions of alcohol, intoxicated reader, insecure reader, mutual pining, just a bunch of comfort and fluff, honestly strayed from the original prompt t-t

reblogs and interactions are appreciated!

itoshi sae is a busy man.

being the most sought for japanese football player and as well as a regular on the real matrid team meant he was always doing something football related. practices, games, events, you name it.

his schedule is packed with plans set months before they happen. companies and teams always request to see him sooner, but he makes no exceptions for anyone, not even his own family.

well, that goes for anyone but you.

itoshi sae has found himself breaking his own ideals without any hesitation. he‘s standing in front of your apartment, 5 hours, 27 minutes and 54 seconds before his flight back to spain, after an obviously drunk text you sent him 10 minutes ago.

1:22AM

y/n: saweewea

y/n: did u knwo a broken heart hurts REAL bad😍

sae: what

y/n: i think i’m goign to crush my cat with my body weight

y/n: u fg hhh hj jgjjgjhhhrkdoforjfof

sae: where are you rn

y/n: ogm r ru gonna come visit me 😎😜🥺

y/n: i’m soooerirjf lonely

sae: .

sae: be there in 5

sae doesn’t know whether to ring the doorbell or call you to let you know he’s here. heck, he’s not even sure whether you’re at home or not, but he does know that it’s not often you go out to drink. as he’s hesitating, you hastily open the door, almost like you could sense him there.

“sae!” you slur, just barely avoiding stumbling over yourself as you straighten up. “i didn’t expect you to actually come visit me.”

“neither did i.” he scoffs as he takes in your current state: graphic anime tee (which he gave you last christmas), sweatpants, messy tangled bun and your face is entirely red. you reek of soju and he knows better than anyone you’re a lightweight, so sae mentally prepares once more for what he’s about to get himself into.

the response from the magenta haired in front of you causes a pout to form on your face. he’s not quite sure if it’s just his imagination or not, but it looks like you’re more down, more tired than usual.

“are you okay?” he asks, and this prompts you to stretch your arms out, almost habitually, and wrap them around the taller male’s torso.

sae flinches ever so slightly at your touch. he gently pushes you back into the apartment as he closes the door, all while having one arm wrapped around your waist.

it’s obvious you’re not in the right mind space, but as everyone says, drunk words are sober thoughts, though sae doesn’t know whether that’s good or bad. you getting blackout drunk as a result of academic stress has become a monthly occurrence now, and it always ends up with sae coming over to babysit you. he’s more than aware of the fact that you’re taking his presence for granted, yet despite that, he’s still always there for you.

you’re obviously more than just friends, so why does sae feel like the line separating friendship and relationship just keeps getting thicker?

you latch onto him like a koala as he shuffles over to your couch. he doesn’t force anything out of you, doesn’t show any impatience, and just waits for you to talk.

the two of you quietly bask in the comfort of each other’s arms for a long time. just as sae begins to loosen his hold on you believing you’ve drifted off, you cling onto him even tighter, refusing to let go of his warmth.

“don’t go.” you mumble into his hoodie, voice quivering, and sae wonders if it really is school stress that’s made you this way.

humming in response, he pats your back lightly as if he’s caring for a baby, trailing his hand up to your head to play with your hair.

sae doesn’t want to pry, but there’s something he really needs to confirm before it eats his thoughts up even more.

“i won’t leave,” he reassures. “did anything happen?”

a sound comes out of your mouth in response, barely louder than a whisper. sae turns his head to look at you and you take it as a request for you to repeat your words. you try again, and this time, you’re still mumbling, but it’s enough for him to make out what you want to convey.

“i’m sorry.” and a tear falls from your eyes, “i’m sorry, sae.”

now sae’s been in this position for countless times, always coming to be your personal therapist at unearthly hours in the night, but this is the first time he’s ever seen you act so vulnerable. he can feel your body trembling against him and his heart aches just seeing you so dejected.

but he’s not dense enough to not realize what you’re apologizing for, because it’s the same reason as to why he decided to ask in the first place. he gently removes his arms off your waist, turns you to face him and moves his hand up to wipe the tears streaming down your cheek.

this tender, silent exchange between the two of you is more than any amount of words that express. sae’s usually indifferent eyes are laced with affection, and you just can’t help but feel so guilty because of that.

“i know you’re really busy,” you avert your eyes, biting on your bottom lip to stop yourself from breaking again. “you’re always doing so much for me, and i feel so terrible because i don’t deserve any of it.”

sae doesn’t say anything, letting you finish your thoughts before stating his.

“i was watching one of your games earlier, and i was reminded of the fact that your world and mine are so far apart.” you’re still looking away, but a soft nudge from sae’s hand pushes you back to look at him. “i just—i feel like i’m not enough for you, sae.”

through watered eyes, you can catch the expression of the male in front of you waver, and with years of knowing him, you’ve mastered the ability to be able to tell what emotions are going off in his mind.

“i know it sounds silly—“

“it’s not silly.” he interrupts, despite being patient all this time, but struggles to find the right words to continue. “is this what you’ve been feeling since back then?”

you shake your head, and lean forward to rest it on his shoulder. “the internet is scary.”

sae lets out a soft chuckle at your unintentional joke, and moves his head to rest it on the side of yours. “but what only matters is that i’m here in front of you right now, yeah?”

“it’s true that i’m busy, but i’ll always be your anchor of support whenever you need it, seriously.” his fingers find their way to intertwine with yours, and your heart flutters at how romantic he’s being. “so don’t cry sweetheart, because you’re breaking my heart as well.”

the use of the pet name makes you giggle, it being so out of character for sae, yet that’s how you know he really means it, from the bottom of his heart. hearing the sound of your laughter allows sae to relax his shoulder from all the tension he unknowingly had been feeling, and he cups your cheek with his palm, bringing you face-to-face with the taller male.

his eyes study your features, taking in your beauty, before going back to make eye contact with you. though you notice how they flicker down to your lips and hover there for a split second longer than anything else, your heart thumping loudly at the realization of what he’s asking of you.

you flash him a small smile in response as approval, and sae wastes no time closing the distance between you two. his touch is soft, almost like he’s afraid of breaking you, and easily washes away all the worries clouding your mind.

sae droops his arms over your shoulders and rests his forehead against yours. “you were always and will be more than enough for me, y/n.”

his sweet words bring a red flush to your face (not from alcohol this time) and you purse your lips in embarrassment as sae’s grin only gets bigger.

“so just hurry up and be mine already.”

BONUS: the morning after

you wake up with a pounding headache, and immediately try to get up to get a drink of water, but your body doesn’t budge at all.

as your eyes begin to adjust, you look down to find sae and his arms locked around you, causing a scoff to come out of your mouth.

of course you couldn’t move when a whole professional football player (incredibly fit btw😍) has a death grip on you.

“sae, wake up.” you nudge him and he only whines in response. “didn’t you have a flight to catch this morning?”

“mm, shush.” he takes one of his arms and lightly pushes you back down into his embrace. “who cares about that, been waiting for this for far too long.”

you laugh and decide to give in, slowly drifting back to sleep.

meanwhile, sae’s nonstop vibrating phone on your nightstand is totally unnoticed, the cause being hundreds of messages and calls from his manager wondering where he is.

1K notes · View notes