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ohimsummer · 15 days

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GIRL, I NEED A TASTE ft. PUPPYBOY! SATORU

— minors dni, needy + lovesick + puppyboy! satoru x fem! reader, tít sucking, subby! satoru, humping (dryhumping??), breeding + creampie mentions

⭑ ࣪ ˖ sum’z notes.ᐟ i went a little overboard writing this <//3 strongest ‘puppy-dog eyes’ user everyone

wc 1.4k

you give puppyboy! satoru an inch, and he will take several miles.

he’s ready to pounce on you 24/7: when you wake up, when you return home, when you’re fresh out of the shower, when you come back from a 5 minute bathroom break during movie night. it’s insane the way, if it were up to him, your pussy would never know peace.

in satoru’s “defense”, he can’t help wanting to stuff you full of himself all the time. he loves you, he’s in love with you and, in his eyes, what better way to show it than the overwhelming amounts of euphoria he could put you both through? satoru loves to give, give, give to you; his heart, his attention, his affections, and his cum at the end of it all.

you suppose his reasoning is understandable, more so from satoru’s point of view, but fucking every minute of every day isn’t sustainable—it’s only fair you tell him ‘no’ sometimes. and that’s when satoru brings out the theatrics: whining, crying, whimpering and complaining about how he’s “sooo harddd” and he’ll “be super quick”. fluttering snowy white lashes to beg with those woeful, blue, puppy-dog eyes, glistening with tears that he seems to be able to summon on a dime.

satoru flashes you the cutest pout as he presses himself up against you, grinding his bulge against your ass as he nuzzles and nips at your cheek. slow, impatient sways of a fluffy tail, the perk of those twitching, adorable ears whenever you cast him even a glance. satoru whispers a hopeful “pretty pretty please…just once?” as he licks at the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps from your neck to spine.

it doesn’t matter, really. he can do it all for as long as his heart desires, because in the end…

…it’ll get satoru exactly what he wants every time.

the movie you put on isn’t nearly as immersive as you’d hoped. and even if it was, satoru keeps pulling your attention away with every nip and lick to your thighs.

“toru.”, you deadpan, and he instantly weaponizes those wide, doe-like eyes of his. paired with a slight wag of his tail, a friendly gesture which he aims to placate with, and satoru has easily dodged your annoyance once more.

you brush off his bad habit with a sigh before your attention returns to the screen in front of you. and then, not even five minutes later, the sharp poke of his fangs sinks back into the fat of your thigh. it’s always steady and deliberate; satoru wants to see just how much you’ll allow before jabbing an irritated finger to his forehead in disdain. meanwhile, once he’s satisfied with the depth of his teeth, he sucks harshly at the skin, glancing between you and the newfound hickey now blooming. then he goes in again, quicker but that’s only because he’s expecting a sure-fire dose of your wrath this time.

“satoru—“

“look!” he interrupts, tail wagging eagerly. “bit ya in the shape of a heart, because i love you.” technically not a lie, but not the full truth, either.

and you’re so distracted with looking at satoru’s little sign of affection, which is indeed adorably heart-shaped, you forget altogether your reasoning for addressing him in the first place: to chide him again on biting you so hard—which is all part of his plan.

it takes no time before satoru has squeezed way more out of you than you meant to give. when you stopped warning him about the biting, he readjusted to “cuddle” you. his head is on your chest like always, hands on your hips, but they quickly dip underneath the hem of your shirt to knead at your waist. and then they’re slithering up further, grazing at your underboob before finally squeezing one of your breasts.

“satoru.” he cowers under the angry heat of your stare. “if i have to tell you one more time…”

his tongue darts out to lap at your exposed neck, causing you to wriggle at the needy gesture. “ ‘m sorry, they’re like my little stress balls. can I touch, please?”

and you shouldn’t have relented and said yes. of course you shouldn’t have, you knew that. if you agree to this, he knows now that you’ll agree to pretty much anything. but satoru stares at you with those dreamy eyes, gleaming with stars to whisk you away to a bad decision. it takes a single, pleading blink as he gives you a small squeeze, and you have fallen victim to his spell once again.

your shirt is pushed up hastily to expose your tits, leaving them subject to satoru’s merciless greed. he pinches, pulls, and tugs with both hands and mouth, sinking fangs into every inch of your breasts since he cannot stand to not see signs of himself on them. because he thinks you’re pretty, duh, but he thinks you’re prettier when your body is spotted up with the marks he loves to leave.

not long after, he’s shed you of your pants, tossed somewhere over the edge of the bed. what started off as a slow grind has turned to satoru’s bare cock humping your thigh, searing and sticky as he leaks a mess of precum all over your skin. just the sensation of it sends an aching rhythm of throbs to your core, your painfully empty hole sporadically fluttering around nothing.

in your mind—buried beneath thoughts of this dreadful movie and the excruciating desire to have satoru’s cock battering your insides—are the very last remnants of willpower you cling to. you can visualize clearly the smug look sure to grace his face if you whine a single plea about satoru fucking you. after all, you’re the one who was all ‘no sex right now, ‘toru’. if you can’t keep your word for even one night, you might be just as sex-crazed as he is.

there is a nonstop background noise of his tail thumping and sweeping against the bed. satoru’s wags haven’t let up since you gave your first yes, and only grow stronger with each new whimpered plea you yield to. they pick up with the pace of his thrusts, a beat to harmonize with the sinful song of his desperate whimpers right before gojo reaches another high—he lets loose a muffled cry into your chest, still pathetically humping your leg like a lovesick mutt as he gushes yet another pool of cum to coat your thighs and panties. after that, his wags ease up to a slow, easygoing thud, now overpowered by the raspy heaves of air he sucks into his lungs.

and it’s the same song and dance every time. satoru takes a few minutes to catch his breath, and then he’s ready for another round. from the corner of your eye, you notice those teary blues have locked on to you. he tests the waters, gradually rutting against you again, mouthing at your breasts to see if you’ll tell him ‘that’s enough, ‘toru’. he is pleased when the words never come, and his actions only grow bolder the longer you let it go on; he licks at your jawline, down your neck before placing a few nips here and there. tweaks your sore nipples between his thumb and index, plunging his dick harder and faster along your thigh for another repeat of the last few hours.

with each daring action over the course of the night, satoru has dragged you a little closer towards the edge with him. first it was pushing your top up, next, it was taking off your shorts. then, it was a bold move of pawing at your clothed pussy, which almost turned into his hand in your panties if you hadn’t pinched his ear and told him no. though, he could just as easily get you to let him anyway if he asks in that very sweet voice of his, the one he always uses when he longs for something from you.

“can I take off your panties?”, satoru finally asks, tilting his head to stare you right in the face.

you won’t meet his eye, and he knows you won’t. because both of you know if you do, he will quickly shred that last bit of self-control at the tips of your fingers. a single bat of his lashes and you’ll be nodding your head, raising your hips so he can tear away your underwear. and then it will only be a matter of time before satoru’s pinning you down to stuff his cock in your walls as deep as you can take. it’s all he wants, all he craves. but as long as you avoid looking into his alluring eyes, you may hold off satoru and his contagious desires for just a little longer.

tagz: @blkkizzat @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @rosso-seta @sapphireandange @starlightanyaaa @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie @neptuneblue @staryukis ( HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN LOGANNNNNN😼😼‼️‼️💚🩵💛💚🩵💛💚🩵💛💚🩵)

#pubbyboy! satoru. . .✎#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo drabble #satoru gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagine #jjk imagine #satoru gojo smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #satoru x reader smut #gojo satoru x reader smut

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anantaru · 3 months

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synopsis. you're in a changing room trying on lingerie while rich boy aventurine admires you <3 dry humping n getting spoiled

cw. ⪩⪨ [ex]plicit, rich boy au, rich boy aventurine, reader wears lingerie, fingering & dry humping, fem! reader

somewhere amongst the fancy to love and favor you, rich boy aventurine has a habit of spoiling you without hindrance— at bottom, in the glow of his eyes, he views life as nonsense without a substance much deeper than that of materialistic possessions, all the more reason as to why you were the most valuable to the blonde.

rich boy aventurine walks you through the countless stores that were flashing the most luxurious brands— expensive bags and purses, or what about an avant-garde necklace for it to fit the other accessories? you hum, teeth sinking into your glossed lip as aventurine urges you to make him purchase it all.

your mind falls down into an emotion you could never get tired of, "this one? yeah?" aventurine says with a nasty grin, almost like he needed you to tell him again, this time a little harder, a little more sensual. his body language was becoming more excited, agitated in a way where he was struggling to hold himself back.

rich boy aventurine watches the shop workers help you get all glammed up for him, so eye-catching and entrancing until his mouth waters at the luring sight once you let him step closer, his observant gaze noting how the lingerie digs and moves in keeping with your skin.

"fuck..." his voice was much the same as gravel, saturated within a mirage of intense cadences dipped in swelling lust as he admires you, shortly after reaching one palm towards his groin to adjust himself a little.

the fancy material of your lingerie hugs up on your body as it was crafted for you, your skin glowing as you're beautifully showing off the exclusive garments that must've been used to create it, fitting you like it's only made for you to wear, for you to enjoy and aventurine to look at, the crystal-glazed necklace on your neck too, leaving nothing concealed.

rich boy aventurine cannot take his eyes off you, seeing you like this formed a thrilling mist of coveting desire inside of the small changing room, blanketing both of your bodies inside a warm conceal.

and how deeply he yearned to get a taste of you, endlessly worship your skin with his strong arms and frame your figure with them tight. aventurine believes you're so graceful when you let him spoil you in such striking manner.

like a dangerous drug, he would describe the excitement he felt whenever he was visiting multiple lavish stores to buy you exorbitant garments, barely holding himself back at the thought of ripping them off your skin later.

the dressing room was too tiny to fit two people, but the both of you made it work somehow— always, with cold glass you're being pressed at, the attention on your plushy ass growing stronger as you feel his agitated erection grind into you. he practically salivates at how he can see the reflection of you two in the mirror when he presses and fucks you through his clothes, two calloused hands holding you in place while you're sneakily brushing your fleshy ass back into his groin.

"baby, oh baby... can't wait to rip that off you…" aventurine lets out a pathetic, little whine followed by a deep rumble emitting from his throat— slowly adding a leisurely tempo to his pace as he humps his clothed sex into your ass before his tongue lewdly licks across the back of your neck.

rich boy aventurine won't stop until he's felt you up everywhere, entirely, he glissades one hand from your breasts to your stomach until settling on your clothed pussy, the small twine of fabric snuggled up between your wet folds was sitting perfectly, which gave him an optimal way to rub your cunt in erratic circles, his adams apple bobbing before he whispers your his name at his fingers gathering your slick.

your head slants back at the new, satisfying impact of two rough digits mounting over your squelching pussy— a marvel of bliss spiking your blood the moment he'd alternate between stimulating your warm cunt, lapping his tongue up and down your neck while humping his thick, clothed member into your plush ass.

it's so crowded in that small changing room, you fear aventurine might rip your new lingerie apart if he's continuing with this— how much you hope he does, it's always a pleasure when he fucks the literal clothes off you, not to mention how pretty he looks with his shirt sticking to his chest, exposing his defined abs.

most deliciously, you were certain that there must be a couple shop workers noticing the deafening noises coming from your area— what else was there to do for them other than listening to what filthy scenes were happening? while only wishing it was them instead.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine smut #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #aventurine x you

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sweetercalypso · 5 months

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What Takes the Edge Off || Joel Miller

Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: Now that Joel is living in Jackson, he’s picked up a few bad habits. When he comes home smelling like cigarettes, you punish him for his choice of vices

Notes: smoking, lap sitting, hair pulling, semi-public sex, grinding over clothes, edging, dom reader, sub(ish) Joel, no reader pronouns; smoking is gross unless you’re hot <3

joel miller masterlist main masterlist

Joel’s problem started with a crushed pack of Camels he’d found just a few short months after settling down in Jackson.

Truthfully, his problem had started when he was nineteen and naïve about the habit he was forming with the hand-rolled cigarettes stashed in his glovebox. They’d belonged to Tommy before Joel had quickly confiscated them with a lengthy lecture about the dangers of smoking.

Tommy was still a kid, but Joel was old enough to choose his own vices.

Everyone in Texas smoked; pipes, cigars, cigarettes – it was all commonplace in the rural heat of the South. Even after the world fell apart, there were plenty of people in QZs willing to trade a week’s worth of ration cards for a single carton of cigarettes, a stale taste of the life they’d left behind.

Joel had been more than happy to meet their demand, only occasionally skimming a few from his and Tess’s supplies. He didn’t crave the relief of nicotine any more than he craved a bottle of old whiskey or a quick, drunken fuck – it was just a way to cope with the life he’d been given.

Living in Jackson is different. The air is cleaner, the streets aren’t littered with soggy cigarette butts, and the weight of Joel’s bad habits has finally caught up to him.

The first pack he found, he’d shared with Tommy. The pair stood outside a crumbling house on their patrol route and chain-smoked what was left in the half-crushed box, reminiscing about the time Tommy stole an imported cigar from their father’s nightstand and had gotten sick from the first puff. Twenty years since they’d seen home, their Southern upbringing still kept them from smoking indoors.

The smell of tobacco had worn off by the time they returned to the city gates, and you were none the wiser about their indulgence. Even when you threw your arms around Joel and buried your face in his chest, you’d greeted him like nothing was out of the ordinary.

A couple days after he’d finished the first pack, Joel realized how much he enjoyed smoking. He found himself missing the bitter taste in his mouth, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s flicking loose ashes from a phantom burning tip.

There’d been a gun in his hand for as long as he could remember, and now that his days are spent in protected leisure, Joel feels like a crucial piece of himself is missing.

He’s constantly searching for the sleek steel of a pistol, the pressure of a trigger responding to his unabating command. The weight of a cigarette balanced between his fingers had eased the grief of being still.

A sealed pack of Marlboro’s was Joel’s next find, left behind on a coffee table in a house just beyond his normal patrol route. His habit had never been routine enough to pick a favorite brand, but the familiar red and white emblem is a welcomed sight, a promise of earthy tobacco and a good, slow burn.

The matchbook in his pocket is a heavy burden on Joel’s conscience as he picks up the cigarettes and quietly slips them into his supply bag. This time, he isn’t sharing with Tommy or anyone else who feels they have a claim over a portion of his findings.

Jackson might be a commune, but just this once, Joel’s nicotine-fueled prerogative trumps his commitment to sacrifice.

He waits until he’s past the city gates to unwrap the crisp plastic and slide the first cigarette out of the pack. It’s nearly midnight when he returns his horse to the stable and begins the short walk home, unlit cigarette dangling between his teeth as he attempts to light a match under the warm embrace of the streetlamps.

The initial thrum of nicotine flooding his lungs is bittersweet, a slight burn that dulls his senses with each deep breath. He walks with his cigarette pulled up to his mouth, the weak orange glow of lit tobacco burning a crude effigy into the shadows of his face.

You’re sitting on the porch when he rounds the corner, lazed in a rocking chair that Joel had built the previous summer – his attempt at adjusting to the slow life.

When he realizes that you’re still awake, he flicks the half-finished cigarette onto the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot, waving a hand to clear the lazy smoke lingering in the air. He grumbles under his breath and pulls the front of his jacket to his nose to gauge how long it would take the smell of tobacco to fade, but he realizes too late that the sickly-sweet aroma is already woven into the material – still clinging to his breath.

He makes his way up the sidewalk with a guilty look on his face and a hand tucked in his pocket, thumb rubbing soothingly over the side of the cigarette pack as if the feel of the box was enough to bring him relief.

It wasn’t that he expected to be chastised for his nasty habit – you knew better than anyone that Joel preferred to take care of himself. But he distinctly remembers a conversation you’d shared some time ago about old-world vices and your distaste for smoking.

He didn’t think it was worth mentioning his habit at the time; smoking was a luxury he doubted he’d ever have again, so why ruin his image of calloused self-restraint?

The sound of the porch steps creaking under Joel’s boots grabs your attention from whatever book you’d been reading, now abandoned face-down on the arm of the rocking chair as you turn to greet him.

“You’re home,” you drawl, the tired lilt in your voice betraying your content expression.

His chin dips in a bashful acknowledgement, tucked to his chest as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your face. He still isn’t used to having someone waiting up for him; the thought only adds to the weight of his self-reproach.

“How was patrol?” you ask as Joel pulls away, though your eyes rake over him with another question in mind.

Before he can answer, you reach out and grab the front of his jacket, bringing the material to your nose to confirm what Joel already knew. “You smell like smoke.”

He swallows the sandpaper feeling in his mouth and shrugs. “Got a little cold out tonight, we stopped to make a fire on our way back.”

He cringes internally at his halfhearted attempt at avoiding the matter, but it doesn’t seem to deter you from putting the pieces together anyway.

“No,” you interject, brows pulled together in confusion. “You smell like cigarettes.”

He’s silent for a moment, unable to think of an honest way out of this conversation. “Huh.”

“Joel,” you drawl, standing and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. A teasing grin pulls at the corners of your mouth, a scandalized amusement that makes his cheeks burn. “Have you been smoking?”

Your fingers weave through the dark curls at the nape of his neck, tugging softly until his head rolls back.

His eyes flutter shut and he shudders as he pulls the offending pack from his pocket. “Found ‘em on patrol,” he pants, his free hand gently squeezing your hip. “People leave all sorts of useful things behind when the world’s endin’.”

You offer only a simpering tsk in response, not quite the reaction Joel was expecting.

The night air is silent beyond the quiet lull of Jackson and the floorboards shifting under your feet as you shuffle closer together, sharing an intimate moment in the dim light seeping through the front room windows. Joel’s hands are a firm presence on your waist, separated from your skin by only the thin flannel shirt you’d stolen from his closet.

Eventually, you pull away, ushering him into the seat you’d abandoned upon his arrival. He drops into the rocking chair with a grunt and drags you into his lap.

“Missed you, baby” he murmurs, admiring the way you fit perfectly into the hollow of his frame, the way you balance yourself overtop him with practiced ease.

He knows he should be more concerned about your indifferent reaction, more worried about the possibility of someone walking by. But his sensibility is swept away by the heave of your chest and the little sound you make when his hand presses against the base of your spine.

Your hips drag slowly over his and for a moment, Joel thinks you’ve forgotten about the cigarettes. Or maybe you won’t mind his indulgence as long as he makes up for it. The warmth of your body pressed against his makes Joel ache for more, ready to offer an apology with more than just his words.

Just as he leans in to press his mouth to yours, you pull away far enough that he misses.

“Ah-” you stop him with a raised hand, fingertips pressed to his pouted lips. “You can kiss me when you don’t smell like cigarettes.”

The warm, hazy feeling is suddenly ripped from the air. Joel’s head jerks back in a look of disbelief, mouth hung open and brows pulled together as if he’d been scorned. “You’re serious?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, running a hand over his chest to soothe his trampled ego. “Can’t stand the smell, baby. You know that.”

The rocking chair dips forward as Joel drops his head onto your shoulder with a groan. “That’s just cruel.”

“It’s not cruel,” you laugh, pushing back the mess of curls falling into his face. “When you come home from patrol, I wanna taste you, not smoke.”

Your hips stir over his once again and Joel swears under his breath. His cock twitches in interest and he begrudgingly accepts the torment of your slow pace. This isn’t the time to take charge and chase his high; he’ll let you take the reins until you decide that he’s forgiven.

He picks his head up to glance around the empty streets, assuring himself that there’s no one here to witness his weak-willed acquiescence.

“I wanna touch you, make you feel good,” you continue, ghosting your fingers over the front of his jeans. “But how can I do that when all I can think about is those nasty cigarettes? Hmm?”

Your hands travel back to his chest, but your hips continue to roll over his, trapping his stiff cock beneath the comfortable pressure of your thighs. His eyes flutter shut once more as he leans back into his seat and lets you have your fun.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to near his end, subtly bucking his own hips to help himself along. He’s right there, right at the edge of his release, knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the arm rests and—

The weight in his lap is gone, replaced with an empty chill that makes Joel’s hips stutter. His eyes snap open as he struggles to focus in his blissed-out state, but a hand on his shoulder brings him back to reality.

You’re standing in front of him now, no longer providing the friction that’d been fueling the fire in his belly. “Sorry, baby. You don’t get off that easy.”

He groans when you crawl back into his lap and you’re flooded with a sense of empowerment. It shouldn’t feel this good to see Joel suffer. You know it’s not fair to tease him like this, but maybe he deserves a little punishment.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been smoking, I’d let you enjoy this. Let you use your mouth to make me come, let you fuck me the way you want to.”

Joel stays silent, obedient. He swallows around shallow gasps of air that make his chest rise and fall with the labor of his breaths, thighs tensing as he struggles not to chase that feeling dangling just out of reach.

“I could do this all night,” you note, settling your weight in his lap again, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And I think you’d let me.”

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us fic #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #sub!joel #sub!joel miller

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

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Eddie develops a strange habit after sex. It’s not exactly cute or romantic or nice. Nothing bad either. It’s just… well, Steve isn’t too sure what it is. But every time, it’s the same damn thing.

He collapses onto Steve’s chest and says:

“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”

Usually, Steve is still recovering from the fucking downpour of post-orgasm endorphins. So he doesn’t question it. Hell, he stopped challenging Eddie’s tolerance to geek out months ago. Dude holds fantasy knowledge in his brain better than he holds his liquor.

Which is saying a lot.

Anyways, Steve never has the mental capacity to react or respond. Instead, he runs his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-soaked hair for awhile. Scratches out little patterns on his scalp because it always makes Eddie go limp. Quiet.

Quiet is a rarity for him. And while Steve is totally weak for Eddie’s chattiness, the quiet can be nice too.

The only reason Steve finally decides to ask about it is because Eddie slips up. Says it before they have sex.

Steve is against the bedroom door, his nails dragging down Eddie’s back. God, he loves this kind of kissing. The lung draining kind. The type that’s sort of filthy from all the heat and grinding.

Eddie hasn’t marked him up this bad since that time someone at work noticed his neck. Asked if Steve was having an allergic reaction during an office-wide meeting.

And this is going to be even worse. Steve can tell by the sounds and the soft pricks of Eddie’s teeth. He can tell by how long Eddie spends over each spot, like the bruising skin needs more attention than the rest of him. Like licking them over will make the colors last longer.

The damage has been done. Really no point in stopping him when it feels so fucking good. Steve forgets to worry about how mauled he’s gonna look tomorrow because his head is swimming with Eddie’s lips on his neck. His collarbone. His chest.

That’s when it happens. That’s when Eddie’s strange habit makes an early appearance.

He kisses over the blistery mess he made, practically growls the words out this time:

“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”

“Okay, time out.” Steve says. Heaves some air back into his lungs. Pulls Eddie’s face up before he can continue making Steve look like goddamn target practice.

Eddie blinks a few times. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Gonna have to wear fucking high-collared shirts all week, but whatever.

He’ll bring that up some other time. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“That… thing.” Steve barely can spit it out. It’s like his throat is physically rejecting the nerdy shit he’s about to say. “You keep calling me… a cyborg or something.”

“Oh that.” Eddie sighs. Casually shrugs to one side. “It’s your fault actually.”

“How is it my fault? I don’t even know what fucking language you’re speaking.”

Eddie walks over to the bed, chanting Steve’s name over and over. Definitely not in the way Steve prefers him to chant his name. Very un-sexy chanting.

“Remember that day you asked me to grab your car keys?” He asks, patting the bed for Steve to join him.

No. “Kinda?”

Steve hesitates before walking over. He didn’t necessarily wanna stop their primal makeout session. But it was bound to lead to the bed at some point, so…

Just not like this. Not talking while fully clothed. Blech.

He sits next to Eddie. Hands awkwardly fidgeting in his lap.

“Well, I couldn’t find them.” Eddie admits. “So I ended up going through your desk drawers.”

Of course he did. Perpetual snooper.

“Ended up finding a binder full of medical records.”

Well shit.

Steve’s throat tightens. Swells around the sudden guilt he feels for keeping this from Eddie.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a metal plate in your head?”

“Dunno. Hardly even remember it.” That’s only partly true. Steve doesn’t remember the surgery or much of the recovery process. He was only a kid when it happened.

But he does remember the hospital smells. He remembers the sounds of his IV bag dripping throughout the night. All the sensory indicators are still fresh in his mind.

“Well, that’s why. You're part-machine.” Eddie points to Steve’s head, expression softening. “And every time we fuck around, I think about your bionic skull. And how glad I am that it keeps your brain from leaking out when I bend you over the way you like it best.”

Steve laughs. The jokes help lighten the mood. Not enough to replace it entirely, but enough for it to be easy to swallow again.

They’re both quiet as they get ready for bed, folding the covers down. And yeah, sometimes quiet can be nice. Just maybe not right now.

“Hey, Eddie.”

“Yeah?”

Steve stares hard at the pillows. “Are cyborgs like… cool?”

Eddie pauses for a moment, then hops onto the bed. Starts crawling over to Steve with a smug grin. He lifts up to meet Steve’s lips. Kisses him sweeter than normal. Lighter. Starts nodding his head mid-kiss, keeps nodding as he breaks away.

“Yeah, babe. Cyborgs are so fucking cool.”

#steddie #steddie fic #hi it's very late and this is very short #but I had to get it out before sleeps so here you go #so apologies if it's riddled with mistakes #I just missed writing lovebites #and this is the hc that keeps me sane knowing how many concussions Steve has had #like this is how he keeps recovering so quickly from all of them idkidk #okay please enjoy and have nice day xx

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meowpupp · 6 months

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chubby!puppygirl x owner!price

Price is getting older, retired from the SAS now. his work never allowed him to settle down meaning no wife, no girlfriend, not even a casual hookup. so after hours of stroking his cock to puppygirl porn, he decides he should get one for himself. maybe make some home videos.

he browses local shelters. most the pup hybrids are the same. all thin and muscular. their bodies profiled by sharp angles and sharper teeth. then he sees you.

your picture is sweet. a sweet smile, floppy ears, sharp eyes. your tail is blur, clearly wagging it at the time they took your picture. he clicks on your profile, he has to know more.

‘one of our newer rescues! she’s a sweet girl, but too smart for her own good! this pup would best be suited to a household that can give her lots of attention and training to avoid misbehaviour. ’

a smile quirks at his lips. perfect. pretty, smart, and a little needy.

you’ve got a soft body- rolls and curves that he desperately wants to grope. he can imagine it now, you’d be sat pretty in his lap cockwarming him. he’d stretch your tight cunt, grope and squeeze at your tits, slap your clit when you squirm.

within a week, he’s adopted you.

the first few weeks fly by. a month in and you’re fully settled. price treats you well, extremely well. praises almost everything you do, constantly pets and kisses you, feeds you the highest quality food. devours your cunt every night.

he’s made you drunk on him. every morning you wake up nuzzled in his arms. within ten minutes he’s shoved his fingers into your soft cunt, rutting his hips into your ass. prices voice low and growl as he praises you; “fuck, pup. so fuckin wet for me. my good girl. cmon, cum for me, show me how needy you are.”

afterwards, he feeds you. makes you whatever you like. once youre full and happy, tail wagging back and forth, he shoves you under the table. sits you on your knees between his legs. price tangles a hand in your hair, eases himself into your throat. your ‘morning treat.’

breakfast is followed by a walk. he is ex-military, old habits die hard. by the time you get back, you’re sweaty, body worn out and tired. ready for a shower.

this is prices favourite time of day. he takes you into the shower, gently washes your body. soaps you up in sweet smelling bubbles, washes you down with warm water.

the whole time, he’s squeezing your soft body. knows exactly where to grope you to make you squeak.

the part he loves the most though? when he spreads your chubby thighs, changes the shower setting, and sprays water directly on your clit. he bites and sucks the fat of your tits, grumbles against the soft skin.

“cmon pup, gotta make sure you’re clean. be a good girl, spread your legs f’me… atta girl”

every moment of your day, you’re lavished with attention and praise. so when you act up, break the rules, disrespect him? his punishments hit hard.

he gets up before you do, already gone on his morning run. he makes you food, but leaves it on the bench. he doesn’t so much as look at you for the first half of the day, let alone speak a word.

it’s only when you’re crying at his feet, grinding your wet aching cunt against his boot that he bothers to look at you.

with a hand in your hair, he tilts your head. the sight of tears running down your chubby cheeks making him rock fucking hard.

he uses the other hand to squish your cheeks together, eyes stern and cold, voice flat as he speaks. “What did you do wrong?”

he doesn’t let go, making you talk through a forced pout. he waits until you’re begging and sobbing, eyes needy and desperate before he gives in.

price pulls you up over his knee, big hands a little too rough with you. he pushes your panties down, exposing your cunt. lets out a groan as he slowly toys with your soft clit. you’re fucking dripping.

“Mhm, i know puppy. you’re sorry. didn’t mean to make me mad, huh?” he smirks as you nod. he’s practically drooling at how your thighs surround his hand, the fat burying it.

he waits till you're relaxed before he pulls his hand back, delivering a stinging spank. he keeps his other on your neck, forcing you still.

Price continues to spank you, making you count each one. grinding his tent against your tummy as he turns your ass red, only getting harder as your tears wet his jeans.

he makes you count in intervals of ten. spanks you red and raw, then after 10, strokes your pretty pussy. he gets you nice and relaxed, acts as if it’s over, then repeats.

he only stops once you’re shaking and sobbing, his jeans completely soaked with slick and tears.

#mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #price x reader #price x reader smut #john price x reader #mw3 x reader #mw3 x reader smut #price x chubby!puppygirl #fem reader #female reader

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bby-deerling · 4 months

Text

netflix + chill (law x reader nsfw)

you and law spend the night doing some transponder snail and chill >:^)

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 1.4k masterlist

cw: fem!reader, oral (law receiving), established relationship, cocky law, some liberties taken with transponder snail capabilities for the sake of plot, crack taken seriously, messy blowjobs, law gets his balls sucked, slight cumplay

tagging: @ragethebunny @eelnoise @sanjisprincesswifey @sanjisjuul @mandiemegatron @alicesfracturedmirror @willowbelle @kaizokuniichan

Transponder snails with screens were usually reserved for important tasks on the Polar Tang, like observing live feed of footage deep in enemy territory, or replaying the outcome of battles so that Law can analyze and scrutinize his own techniques and mistakes, but on rare occasions like these, Law uses them to rewatch his favorite shows with you in his office.

Tonight, you were starting one of his favorites—a mecha show with tons of bright colors as nebulas explode on the screen in front of you during the opening sequence.

“Pay attention, this is important.” Law scolds as he wraps an arm around you and leans back into the couch as the characters on screen hop into their mechas. “The main character gets ridiculous by the end of the series—he can even beat Sora easily.” he says, causing you to turn and squint at him as you scrutinize his features. Law had a habit of taking advantage of how much trust you placed in him, and would often tell you complete lies—with a convincing deadpan expression—about the show you were currently watching just to mess with you.

“You’re lying.” you say decisively, crossing your arms as you lean back into the plush cushions of the couch, “How is a mecha going to beat Ultra Instinct Sora?” His claim was nothing short of preposterous, though the look on his face betrays no sign of mischief.

“People don’t even know how to rank him when power scaling.” he insists, eyes glued to the snail screen, “Now shut up and lock in.” His words are harsh and make you roll your eyes, but his tone has a hint of playfulness to it as he pulls you in closer to his side.

Though the main character would soon apparently be able to destroy planets and galaxies, right now he was an adorable kid drilling through the ground in his bunker; Law was right, this show was good, gripping you from the very first scenes. Entranced and transfixed, you’re uncharacteristically quiet; usually you and Law both ramble on as you discuss what’s happening on screen, but this show in particular has you pulled in and focused until the ending credits of the first episode begin to roll; as it continues to play, Law stretches out and lays on the couch, and you respond in turn by laying on his chest.

He’s seen this show a hundred times over—enough to know that he has a little over four minutes to let his lips and hands roam all over your body before the real meat of the next episode starts again—and seizes the opportunity. There’s a practiced, comfortable smoothness to his movements as he initiates the kiss, sitting up slightly to align his hips with yours as he rocks against you. Though you had been sucked in by the show moments earlier, now you were mesmerized by the way his thin fingers rake through your hair as he swirls his tongue against yours, cradling your jaw as he presses his clothed length against your core. The dizzying haze you’re both swirling in makes the show fall deep into the background as it resumes, nearly disappearing from your mind entirely when he pulls your neck down and drags his tongue along it, breaking the rhythmic circles of his tongue with a bite or two every so often. Like a predator, Law knows where you’re weak, but enjoys playing with his food as he teases you, kissing your neck and grinding up into you until you’re a whimpering mess on top of him. The mewls you let out as he sinks his teeth into your sensitive flesh makes him twitch and throb as his cock strains against his too-tight jeans, prompting him to mumble a request in your ear.

“Can you suck me off?” he whispers, his voice raspy as it sends a pleasant shiver down your spine; it’s phrased as a question, though it’s more of a gently spoken order considering the way he’s turned you into putty in his hands. As anticipated, you hum out a content mhm and sit up on the couch and put your hair up, nearly salivating as he unzips his jeans and frees his cock. Eagerly slotting yourself between his legs, you swirl your tongue around his head teasingly before taking his length in your mouth until he hits the back of your throat; the little muffled gag you let out makes him growl with pleasure as he tangles his inked fingers in your hair. Though you always start intent on doing things your way, Law can’t help but to seize control once you have him in your mouth; the prospect was far too tantalizing when you were only an arm’s length away from him.

Sensing you need a small break as your chokes become more frequent, he pulls your mouth off him roughly and leans down to capture your lips with his; he deepens the kiss quickly, his course set on sending your mind spinning with his tongue as your hand idly plays with your clit.

“You like sucking my dick?” he coos in a teasing whisper as he breaks the kiss for a moment, his hands trailing upward to play with your breasts before attaching his lips to yours again.

“Mmm… I do, I love it…” you whimper out as your lips continue melding into each other, your words drowning in so much desperation that it makes your face burn.

He exhales with amusement as he pulls away and nudges your face back towards his length. “Get back to it, then.” he taunts, letting out a sigh as you eagerly comply and take him as deeply as you can. The chokes and whimpers you let out as he stretches your throat make him exhale sharply with pleasure; while the sight of you drooling on his cock is mesmerizing, he wants to watch your tongue drag along his cock instead of having to imagine the movements taking place inside your mouth as you take him in.

“Lick along my shaft.” he whispers; his voice is barely audible as he directs you, but the words ring in your ears all the same. You take no time to wipe the inadvertent tears rolling down your cheeks before running your tongue up and down along the side of his length messily; his grip on your hair tightens as he enforces your pace, using his grasp on you to drag your head back and forth; the drool pooling at the base of his cock ends up coating the side of your cheek. Though the sensation was foreign and strange as cool air ran across it, the look in Law’s eyes as he watched your tongue run across him was like bait on a stick, keeping you in place and catering to his whims. “Good girl.” he mumbles as he throws his head back, causing you to let out a content whimper.

He drinks in each movement you make as your tongue’s movements gradually get sloppier and clumsier, prompting him to coax you further downward to put his balls in your mouth; Law’s hand replaces yours, urging you to give them your full attention. Tongue swirling around them as you gently suck, he lets out a sharp gasp as his fingers tighten around your hair—he loves you like this, messy, pupils dilated, and focused on pleasing him.

It was enough to get him close.

“Don’t swallow when I cum, I want to see it.” he warns as he guides your mouth back towards his cock; the blood pounding in your ears as he fucks into your mouth with an unforgiving pace almost drowns out his words, though once the phrase ingrains itself in your mind, it only spurs you to get him closer to the edge.

Giving you no warning but a strangled gasp, he spills into your mouth, tasting salty and slightly bitter on your tongue. Obediently, you open up your mouth and stick your tongue out for him, and he smirks at the sight of his seed coating it with a thin layer of white. He ruffles your hair as you close your mouth, swallow hard, and lean your face into his thigh; he runs his fingers soothingly through your hair as you sigh contently, and he presses a kiss to your forehead—the only part of your face not covered in spit—as he helps you to your feet.

“Fuck…” he sighs quietly after the two of you clean up, sinking into the leather of the couch, draping his arm around your waist as you join him and curl into his side. “We’re on episode three now...” he says as he pulls a blanket over the two of you, “I’ll fill you in on what you missed.”

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #law smut #law x you #trafalgar law x you #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #one piece smut #law x y/n #trafalgar law x y/n

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moonjxsung · 3 months

Note

HIHIHHIHIHIHHIHHII NEW HERE😍😍

OKAY.... THOUGHTS ON SLOPPY MAKE OUT WITH LIKE CHAN OR HAN??

I THINK HAN WOULD BE SO WHINY LIKE

“m- mmm..~ baby..“ HE WOULD RUN HIS TOUNGE ALL OVER YOUR LIPS😩 AND THEN YOU WOULD LIKE SLOWLY GRIND ON HIM AND???😈😈

AND THEN CHAN😈…

you would just like. Omg sloppy make out with Chan is just so loving and slow and hands everywhere.

GRUNTS GROWLS. YOU NAME IT??🥹

yes. I’m sorry I just had to get this out😅can I be⬜️ annon?

Sloppy makeout session with Jisung is a fucking dream come true, hands literally grasping every inch of your body he can get to, little moans escaping from his lips into yours and his eyebrows arched in a neverending state of pleasure because it feels so fucking good kissing you for hours on end (probably secretly hoping he’ll get to fuck you at some point if we’re being so real). Definitely not one to hover over you long because he’d much rather pull you onto his lap and let you grind down on his half-hard cock until you do indulge him in a good fuck. Whiny!!! So fucking whiny!!!!! “Baby, grind down on it a little harder, god you drive me crazy” Probably makes it really fun too- laughs in between kisses, loves to pull back from you and admire the way your lipstick is smeared all over his face. Wholly endeared by how disheveled his hair is because you’ve been tangling your fingers in it all evening and gripping the back of his neck to work hickeys down his neck. Just a fun experience overall, “good fuck and a better lover” type beat.

Chan is more sensual than Jisung is- contrast to Jisung, he loves to be hovering over you and in charge of the whole thing. Kisses you until his lips hurt, doesn’t always have the intention to end the night by making love to you, but does want you to feel as good as if he was. He definitely plans for makeout sessions like the romantic geek he is- chooses some romantic playlist and whispers sweet nothings in between Chase Atlantic songs while he’s working his lips against yours like he hasn’t done it in years. Every time he kisses you it’s like the first time you made out; full of longing, passion, yearning to be as close to you as possible. Chan is very keen in burying his face in the crook of your neck and just letting his lips and his teeth graze there, littering your flesh in hickies and marking you so that damn near everybody knows what you were up to the night before. Also has a habit of making it fun coupled with the seriousness, will definitely laugh when you squirm in his touch or let out little moans at the sensation of his lips against you. “That feel good? Yeah? Does my girl like that?”

(Adding 🌫️ to the anon list thank u for this delicious thought YUM ily !!!!!)

#🌫️ anon #ask #stray kids #skz #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz scenarios #han jisung hard thoughts #Han Jisung smut #Han Jisung

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inkykeiji · 8 months

Text

characters: haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, consensual somnophilia, rough sex, implied poly relationship, minimal prep, lots of cum words: 1.4k

the haitani brothers have fallen into a bit of a habit as of late. a nasty habit, a naughty habit, and, to them, a natural habit.

or so they’ve told you.

it’s become a part of their morning and nightly routines, the perfect way to start and end their days—by fucking you awake, and fucking you to sleep.

they’ve got a sort of system going now, working in perfect sync just like they always do, falling into step with one another efficiently, effortlessly.

as to be expected.

despite his aversion to waking up, ran has taken the morning shift. he’s careful with it, cautious with it, rousing you slow and soft and sweet as he sinks his cock into you, breathing out an airy little sigh against the nape of your neck as he watches your cunt stretch and strain around his girth, as he finally bottoms out, cockhead pressed snug to your cervix and hips pressed flush to your ass, balls nudging you gently.

his favourite part will always be the way your face scrunches oh-so-cutely, features warped in pain—brow crinkled and nose crumpled—the moment he grinds himself into the sensitive mound of tissue, lazy and languid yet somehow still powerful and purposeful. his hips move in precise little gyrations, rubbing quick circles into your cervix until those stringy whines are oozing from your lips and soaking into your pillow, cheek still half-buried in the flesh.

those precious little sounds evolve into pitchy mewls and high moans, stammered by each hitch of your breath with each rub of his cock, climbing in volume and frequency as a dense pressure collects in the pit of your stomach, steadily pulling you further and further into consciousness.

ran presses his forehead to the crown of your head, rests it there and lets his eyes slip shut as he works into you, works to wake you up, gradual and gentle with shallow little thrusts, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging and rolling over that swollen spot buried deep within you—that spot he knows so well, that spot he relentlessly abuses with each and every sunrise, that spot that has you trembling and clenching and crying out his name as your cunt gushes slick all over him—so much, too much, and god, baby, you always make such a mess—sticky and slippery as it streams down his shaft and coats his thighs.

and it’s only after this, after he’s sure your orgasm has smashed through your unconsciousness and left you wide awake with pleasant mush for brains, that he will really fuck you just the way he likes to; swift, smooth strokes of his cock as his hips jackhammer that sometimes have you convulsing on him for a second time as he spills himself into you, a gasp of your name beautiful and breathless on his tongue.

it’s rare that ran will actually get up with you, usually falling back asleep a mere moment or two after he’s filled you with his cum, but him being awake was never the goal. as long as it has you rolling out of bed on wobbly legs and with dollops of ivory rolling down your inner thighs, he has succeeded.

resultantly, rindou has taken the night shift, though he doesn’t always come directly to bed even after he’s got your cream slathered all over his cock and your cunt stuffed full of his cum.

rindou isn’t really sure why his brother bothers with dressing you in such pretty little silk slips and lacy babydolls every evening, especially when he knows rindou’s just going to ruin them, stain them with cum or tear through them with overeager, too-strong fingers, but he lets ran have his fun with you anyway, waiting patiently as ran plays dolly.

but once you’re finally ready, teeth brushed and face washed and body outfitted in the cutest nightie money can buy (sans panties, of course), ran hands you off to his baby brother, often paired with an insouciant remark about being a little gentler this time—advice rindou never heeds, advice rindou accepts with equal apathy.

because as much as ran spews out those nonchalant reprimands and requests, they both love seeing you covered in rindou—all four of his fingers and his thumb, collaring your neck or cuffing your wrist or painted across your ass; all thirty-two of his teeth, engraved into your inner thighs or stamped right over your heart, deep and dark and congealed with blood.

besides, rindou argues, he has to be rough with you, has to fuck you hard and fast and so fucking ruthless—how else is he supposed to tire you out and get you to sleep?

he has to give you an orgasm so absolutely earth shattering that you need to pass out, to slip into full unconsciousness, to piece your world back together. he has to fuck you until your muscles are heavy and your bones have liquified under the immense pleasure, body turned to pliable putty so he can twist and curl and knot you into whatever position he pleases.

he has to fuck you until your words are nothing more that spit-soaked whines smeared across the sheets, until your lids are weighted with exhaustion and your lashes are bloated with tears, unable to stay open as your irises roll and reveal white, until your fingers go slack, cotton no longer tangled around your knuckles, grip loose and weak.

and then he has to fuck you some more, just for good measure, of course, sculpted muscles in his thighs flexing beneath smooth skin as his hips pound and plunge with such force the entire bedframe shudders, jostling your whole body up the mattress, your arms shaking as they try to keep you steady and still while pushing back against his snapping thrusts, his abs rippling with each thrust, his chest swelling with ragged breaths and hoarse groans.

it’s when your tongue is sloppy and your words are messy and melty and mangled together in a single matted stream that rindou knows you’re close—to cumming and to passing out—brain gone so adorably stupid with lust, only capable of stitching together a weeped out patchwork of rin-rin-rin; yes-yes-yes.

the head of his cock is assaulting that spot in perfect rhythm with your cute little chants, that spot that feels so good, rin, s’good, that spot he and his brother continually stain their names into in ivory and cream.

you’re teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when your orgasm hits with all the intensity of a freight train, sending you tumbling over that cliff with a cracked gasp of his name, body gone rigid for a moment as pleasure seizes your form, little sparks of electricity zipping through your veins, blood left bubbling in their wake.

then you’re mollifying, sinking into the bed as his desire melts you to nothing, malleable in his palms as he molds you into whatever he needs.

a calm, deep slumber has already enveloped you by the time his cock is pulsing, pumping you full of thick cum—so much cum, too much cum, always, seeping out from around his shaft to roll down your ass and his thighs in fat beads of pearl, streaking your skin with shimmering streams of translucence.

it’s so pretty, he’s breathing as he watches it with voracious pupils outlined in a thin ring of violet. you’re so pretty when you’re coated in him; his seed, his tongue, his touch, his teeth, stained across the canvas of your body.

and even though he knows you won’t remember it by the time the sun is rising and his brother is fucking his cock into you, rindou takes his time to clean you up—to wash your skin and smooth down your pretty nightgown and swathe you in fluffy comforters, petting sweaty hair back from your forehead and temples, sealing his actions with chaste kisses.

they’re not much, but he hopes they make up for some of the pain and soreness he’s stained into your body tonight—a soft, tender, silent thank you.

he isn’t as good at it all as ran is, isn’t as thorough and meticulous and careful, but he does it nonetheless, because he enjoys it, because you deserve it, because he likes to take a moment or two just to admire you, on his own, alone, in the dead of the night.

an angel. his angel. their angel. pretty and precious and perfect in every way.

they couldn’t ask for anything better.

#haitani ran x reader #haitani ran smut #haitani rindou x reader #haitani rindou smut #haitani brothers smut #bonten x reader #bonten x you #bonten smut #haitani ran x you #haitani rindou x you

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seravphs · 9 months

Text

lazybones

wc — 2k

tags — 18+ only, fem dom, sub gojo, riding

Have you been too hard on Gojo lately?

You peek at him from the corner of your eyes. He’s next to you on the couch, freshly back from a mission. Even though he’s just sitting there, he’s being annoying again. It’s his presence, the general lack of respect that exudes from him. You clench your teeth against the urge to scold him.

Playing teacher is a leftover habit from your school days. Yaga couldn’t control him, so you took it upon yourself. It took a lot of trial and error to figure out what made Gojo obedient. Taming the strongest is a delicate balancing act, never giving him too much of the carrot or the stick - right now, you might be teetering too much on the side of punishment. How long has it been since you gave him a reward?

Gojo might be irritating, but he’s still deserving of respect as the pinnacle of Jujutsu society. He works hard, even if he doesn’t show it.

You glance over at him again. He’s never injured when he comes back from missions, but sometimes there’s another problem he has to take care of. Since you first checked on his condition five minutes ago you've been waiting for him to ask for help or deal with it alone, but the visible bulge in his pants hasn’t gone away. The five minutes you gave him clearly wasn’t enough.

You glance meaningfully between his thighs. “Are you going to take care of that?”

“Nah,” he shrugs. “I’m exhausted. Too much work.”

Nodding, you return to your work. Halfway through shuffling papers, you realize that your threshold for normalcy has changed since knowing Gojo Satoru. He has that effect on people. Adapt or die.

The couch shifts. Exasperated, you look over - only to see Gojo rolling his hips gently, grinding on nothing. His mouth is open and his eyes are closed as he pants softly.

“Are you serious,” your voice is completely toneless.

One eye cracks open, brilliant blue all the way to its core. “Hurts,” he groans. “This is the first time all week-“

“Can’t be that bad,” you say, even as you wonder why you’re entertaining this conversation, why you’re not getting up and leaving. “You look like you have all the time in the world. Can you even get off like that?”

“No.”

“Are you stupid?”

He moans. You know he’s only doing it to fuck with you. “Yeah, be meaner,” he goads.

You don’t know why you’re saying it. “Do you need help?”

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“Forget it,” your face burns. “If you don’t-“

“No, no,” he rushes to get the words out. “Help is good. Help would be great. Can you just, ah, can you-“

You reach over to palm him over his pants. He shudders, his spine taut as he arches instinctively towards your touch. His eyes roll back in his head. How badly did he need this? You shove his shoulders back so you have more room to work, preventing him from hunching over you. He grins up at you as you climb over him, straddling his thighs.

“Shh,” you murmur. You don’t recognize your own voice. It’s sensual in a way you’ve never imagined you could be, especially not for him. There’s something soothing about it, melodic and low. “Don’t say anything. Just let me handle it.”

“Okay- ah, fuck,” he hisses as you grip him a little more meanly.

“What did I say?”

Wisely, he doesn’t say anything. He’s always been a quick learner, usually the first to pick up on lessons.

“Good boy,” you coo. A soft breath escapes through his half open lips. You settle on his lap, continuing to work him through pants until he can’t take it anymore and throws his head back, baring his throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he heaves for breath. It’s too tempting. You kiss a bead of sweat arcing down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin before you bite down.

His muffled groan would tell you how much he liked it even if he wasn’t shaking with desire. Your lips curve into a smile against his neck before gracing him with another piece of evidence to carry with him tomorrow.

When you pull back to survey him, there’s more red on his body than you left. He’s so wound up that he’s nearly bitten through his lower lip. You make a humming noise of disapproval at him, but it’s not a major concern when you have such an easy solution.

He grabs at you as you climb off of him, but you shove his hands away. “Patience,” you scold as you tug your stockings off. His eyes light up, but you pity him. He doesn’t know what’s coming.

You shove the black mesh into his mouth. “Keep that there until you can learn not to hurt yourself.”

Whatever complaint he can voice through the fabric is lost as you drag his zipper down and reach into his boxers. His cock drools as you stroke him lazily, not putting too much thought into his enjoyment. This part is for you.

It’s not enough, you know. He needs more stimulation. But you like the way he’s growing more and more needy. You want to drive him insane, want to see him lose everything for you. You want to peel back the persona of the strongest sorcerer and make him lose himself in lust.

It’s almost sick, the way you want to see him brought low. A part of you wonders if you need to consider some kind of professional help for the enjoyment you’re deriving from this, the other, greater part is simply enjoying the high color in his cheeks.

You know how to take him apart, piece by piece, and you do it with a beautiful, precise brutality. He breaks for you, lets you arrange him to your liking.

“You can speak now,” you tell him, tugging your stockings out of his mouth. He moans in relief.

“Can I- can I please come?”

“No one’s stopping you, sweetheart.”

He’s so out of it that he can’t control his expressions. You giggle at the face he’s making, almost sexier for how silly it is. You reach forward fondly to wipe the saliva at the corner of his mouth, doting on him.

“So messy,” you murmur.

The noise he makes in response is barely even human.

“I can’t, not like this,” he whines. “Why are you torturing me?”

“I’m not doing anything. You know what you have to do if you want to come.”

He grins up at you, dazed. “You’re really going to make someone as pretty as me beg?”

“It’s because you’re pretty that I’m making you beg. Now come on, gorgeous. Put that mouth to work.”

“You’re evil,” he whines. You can feel him twitching.

“And?”

“So mean,” there’s a slight hitch in his breath when your other hand reaches towards the nape of his neck, your nails gently scratching at his scalp. “You’re hurting my feelings, you know.”

Dragging your nail over the head of his cock produces a delicious shiver from him.“Come on, pretty boy. Don’t you want it?”

He drops his head again, hanging over the back of the couch. “Fuck,” he pants. “Yeah. Please. I’ll do anything, please let me come.”

“Try a little harder.”

He groans, throwing a hand over his eyes. “Damnit, what do you want from me?”

You pull away.

He yelps, scrambling towards you. “Wait. Wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Please, come on?”

“Tell me something I want to hear, princess.” Your strokes are slow, matching the tempo of your conversational tone. There’s a ruddy blush already spreading across his cheeks, dappled strawberry on cream. You want to bite it, so you do. Noise tears out of his chest, entirely authentic surprise. It’s only a second before you pull away, no harm done but the idea of it. Gojo scowls at you.

It doesn’t change the fact that he got naked for you, or that he’s staying under you. You like him best like this, understanding of his place.

A monster of a man, tamed just for you.

“You’re obedient like a dog. Can you bark like one too?”

He gives you another scathing look which only merits a laugh.

“No? Maybe next time.”

You grip him a little tighter, rubbing your thumb into the sweet spot right under the head of his cock. He tries and fails not to twitch. It’s not good enough. You want to see him flail, sob, choke. You tease the sensitive tip and watch him crumble.

“Fuck,” he whimpers. “Fuck, fuck, I’m so close, please.”

His breath breaks on a moan, a strangled noise as he tries and fails to control himself. You love it, this part of him, still holding onto a quickly crumbling idea of pride or strength. It endears him to you so much you cup his cheek, comfort enough that he might be convinced to let go.

His next word is lost in the sound of a hiccup as tears begin to build in the corner of his eyes. You can sympathize. He’s at the point where pleasure feels too good and everything begins to feel too sensitive, too painful. His nerves, already more refined than the average person’s, must be burning, yet he holds on.

Not for much longer. You’ve built a rhythm now, stroking him fast, but he seems to love the manhandling. The rough treatment pushes him closer to the edge, closer to what you know he needs. His hips jerk with minute movements, trying not to drive you away once more. He wants to be good.

He’s practically drooling as you push him around. The slick noises of your palm against his skin quicken as his abs clench, finally unraveling for you. You keep at it, stroking him through it to the edge of overstimulation.

“Too much,” he whines. “It hurts!”

You slow down. “So you don’t want more? Too bad, I was going to let you fuck me.”

Gojo’s voice sounds ruined, but his hands are going to your hips instead of pushing you away. He tugs you even closer. You can feel him growing hard again, his cock pressed between your bodies. Even though he looks like he might sob if you keep toying with him, he nuzzles his head against your chest.

“More, Satoru?”

“Anything you’ll give me,” he promises.

You test him first, offering nothing to test the limits of his sensitivity. He doesn’t whine anymore, knowing by now to let you do as you please. His big hands are splayed over your hips as he helps you bounce in his lap, fucking between your thighs, but not where he wants.

“Can you even go again?”

“I told you-” You decide that he can. “Oh god-”

You’re hot and wet and tight around him. After so much teasing, his brain short-circuits. He said he could, but with the way he’s acting, you really don’t think he can handle it. You go to climb off him again, but Gojo moves before you can.

“No,” he whimpers, hands pressing you down harder. He bucks his hips up, trying to get deeper, trying to fill you up. You don’t know how he still has the strength to carry you, but he’s the strongest, after all. He picks you up just to drop you back down onto him.

You’re fucking like animals now, wet and messy. You can hardly hear anything over your combined moans and the noises coming from between the two of you, filthy, slick sounds. His hands are digging into your hips so hard that you can feel the bruises he’ll leave tomorrow.

Every drag of his cock against your pussy is bordering on painful as he chases his own pleasure, blind to everything but his need to mark you. You’re so full it aches, but beautifully, until it transforms into something else, satisfying an all-consuming need inside of you.

When you come, your orgasm wracks through your body. You clench down on him involuntarily, gasping as your pussy throbs around him. It ruins you, the way he presses up into you, trying to fuck you through it. Your thighs can’t stop trembling, your eyes rolling back in your head. You don’t want to imagine how you must look right now.

“Close,” Gojo gasps out. He’s been reduced to monosyllables for the past few minutes, all wit vanished from him. No sooner than he says it, his head drops onto your shoulder as he presses you down onto his lap, spilling inside of you. You whimper at the feeling, heat spreading through your core.

“What the fuck was that?” Gojo breathes shakily into the silence that ensues.

“Just- just shut up,” you reply. You hadn’t expected it either.

Gojo laughs and tucks a sweaty arm around you. “Were you hiding that from me all along? I mean, I knew you were into me, but-”

You do the only thing you know will shut him up. You kiss him. His eyes are hazy when you pull back.

“Um. Okay,” he says. “One more time?”

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojou smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #ns.fw

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mamawasatesttube · 5 months

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ok i put a longer post abt tim's Emotional State in drafts for when my brain is less melted but re: tim and going to college im just gonna get a lil silly with it. hear me out.

i have this whole vague story in my mind for tim's college days moonlighting as red robin as he tries and figures out what he wants out of life. (it's a while after rr leaves off and all because he's like. Super Depressed for a hot minute and then has to drag himself through actually bothering to get his GED and applying to college, etc., but eventually lucius is like hey. you're great with gadgets, and you clearly love tinkering. i'd hire you for r&d in a heartbeat but you need at the least a bachelor's of engineering. i know you have a lot of the technical skills, but you need a degree. so tim goes ugh fine i'll get a goddamn engineering degree how hard can it possibly be.)

anyways. i think it's a universal experience that if you go to college and you hang with the STEM crowd, you will unfortunately get to know at least one Fucking Guy. it's like brentwood arc; tim does make friends, but there is just this One Fucking Guy he cannot stand and will never stand. this Fucking Guy is in the common room playing his guitar at midnight. he's drunk and yelling and laughing really loud when people have exams coming up. he's convinced everyone adores him. there's also a detective/supernatural plot going on. the subplot is just that tim hates This Fucking Guy.

at some point, there's a story beat where he as red robin has to rescue That Fucking Guy from a real dicey situation, and That Fucking Guy is really shaken and grateful to him, and he's like okay. maybe. maybe we are making progress. but then the next time he encounters This Fucking Guy as tim drake, the guy is just like. "ohhhh hey drake you missed it last night, it was AWESOME!!! i had to save red robin from a KILLER ROBOT. he's pretty cool though i guess. i bet you wish you could be more like him huh??" and tim is just. I Will Not Grind My Teeth About This. I Will Not. his life is a fucking joke. he dismantles the toaster oven in the common room kitchen to cope. it's definitely to cope and not just so that That Fucking Guy won't be able to heat up his pop tarts in the morning.

at another point, This Fucking Guy looks at street mode, lowkey, unremarkable Normal Car-looking redbird and goes, aw, dude, i thought your dad is loaded?? he only got you a generic-ass sedan?? that sucks lol, if you want we can take my car down to the game instead. and tim is just Say One More Fucking Word About My Baby I Dare You I Fucking Dare You One More Fucking Word.

(also i like to toy with the idea of this being a university in metropolis - he's out of gotham, but not too far. keeps him from getting antsy about what if he's needed because he can get right back over there. and in the meantime, he can hang out with kon and kara a lot, and occasionally enable and be enabled by lois lane and her snooping habits. there's another subplot in which tim and lois get up to shenanigans. at least once.)

it's sort of an introspective thing of him trying to come to terms with the way he no longer wants a fully normal life the way he always used to assume he would - he has the option to walk away from the cape now, like he always thought he would one day, but he just can't give it up anymore. he's fallen into the same black hole he watched dick and bruce dive headlong into. it's also about him finding joy in tinkering and working with his hands and getting to spend more time as tim drake first and foremost. and it's about him venting to kon about That Fucking Guy while they have a lil picnic on the green while kon loses his absolute shit laughing. all against the backdrop of a little mystery or something. <3

OH and also, most importantly. zoanne wilkins is there and laughing at him for assuming college would be easy. and kon gets her into wendy the werewolf stalker. My City Now.

#rimi talks #rambles #tim #like.... do u see the vision. there are emotions underneath here #but right now i have a migraine so its silly time first and foremost. Tim Hates That Fucking Guy #we've all known a Fucking Guy right? im pretty sure its a universal experience.#the stories i could tell about the Fucking Guy i knew. man.

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saetoshis · 1 year

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[‹ MY EYES ONLY! ›] BLLK

[‹ WITH ›] nagi ; kunigami ; noel noa [ more in potential pt. 2 ]

[‹ SUMMARY ›] how they like to get off to pictures of you!

[‹ MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS ›]

fem!reader, all chars are 18+, consensual filming + nudes, oral (m. receiving), solo masturbation

[‹ NAGI ›] has a small stash of your nudes in his phone!

nagi can’t help but let out a grumble when he dies in his game for the 7th time, wishing you were by his side to cheer him on and give him kisses for good luck - maybe he’d be a winner if you were. but one thing he can’t ignore is just how much he misses you.

he wants you - craves you, thinks about you and smells the remnant of your perfume on his hoodie from earlier that day. it’s like a switch flips, and he can’t ignore the pressure tightening in his cock as he pictures you next to him. he’ll let out a mumbled ‘mm, what a pain’ as he pulls out his phone, scrolling embarrassingly to the little album of pictures he has of you.

the second he sees your frame splayed out for him all pretty on the sheets in his screen, an uncontrollable hitched breath leaves his chest. oh, you’re so pretty… nagi thinks he could die with how much he wants you here - all while he snakes his hand under his waistband to attend to the throbs of his cock.

he grumbles and pouts at first, his teeth catching his bottom lip as he seethes in a sharp breath. it only takes a few seconds before he’s leaning into the pleasure, cock twitching in his palm as he scans the picture over and over. ‘mm- wish you were here..’

nagi lets out a muffled, voice cracking moan when he cums in his hand, breath shallow and ragged as he comes down from his high with his hips slowly grinding up into his fist. he’ll sigh out from a little bit of internal cringe, but his feelings are still the same - he misses you. and he promises to himself that he’ll show you just how much next time he sees you.

[‹ KUNIGAMI ›] watches a video he took of you!

kunigami gets so used to habits, the feel of your body next to his while you’re in bed or the way you cuddle him as you sleep - so when you’re gone, he can’t help but notice.

he reaches out to pull you close to be met with nothing but sheets, and he just groans lowly under his breath. the twitch in his cock is habitual, usually by now he’d be gripping your waist and fucking into you hard enough to shake the bed - so now he finds himself pent up with nothing but his hand to fix it.

kunigami rolls over in bed to grasp for his phone, his tired eyes scouring through pictures and clips of you he has saved - coming across just the one he was looking for. you look so gorgeous underneath him, your face plastered in sheer lust as he fucks into you on camera. he can hear your whimpers in tandem with his grunts and the wet smacks, and fuck if it doesn’t turn him on so much.

he just mumbles ‘fuck, come back already’ under his breath as he slips his boxers down to let his cock spring out. his fist wraps around the head as he pumps the length in time with each stroke on video, grunts and rasped breaths falling from his lips and his phone.

kunigami waits to cum until he sees your pretty face on video when you cream all over his cock, the sounds like ecstasy to his ears as he fucks his fist faster. ‘fuck- oh, shit cumming..’ he mutters to himself as if you were there to hear it, ropes of white dripping onto his abdomen as he rides out the high. maybe he’ll message you that he misses you right now, he thinks to himself.

[‹ NOEL NOA ›] late at night when he’s away on trips!

noa is also a creature of habit, so it’s hard for him when he has to fly overseas and be away from you. the bed never feels right, the blankets aren’t as warm as the ones at home, and most of all - you’re not there to melt into his brawny hold as you drift off to sleep.

but this isn’t something new for either of you, and noa can’t say he isn’t used to missing you like this. but he’ll still sigh out heavily enough for his eyes to feel heavy, too. he’ll send a quick “miss you baby. bed’s lonely without you” into your messages before switching to his camera roll.

he has a stash of photos from his past trips overseas where you’ve sent him pictures to remind him that you’re all his. you even asked him to film you one time, just for these trips so he can watch it and remember your pretty sounds and faces just as much as needs - and he can’t help but watch it every night that he’s away, without fail.

the adorable look on your face when your mouth wraps around his cock on the screen - even though noa’s seen it a million times by now, it never fails to make his cock twitch in his hand so hard. ‘shit- so hot’ leaves his lips unconsciously, chest heaving as he gets so worked up over the wet noises and moans in the video.

it’s hard to tell which of noa’s grunts are real or from the video with the raspy, low overlaps, his hips fucking up into his fist as he imagines his hand was your pretty mouth instead. he’ll cum with a ragged pant, jaw open as groans tumble out and cum spills out onto his abdomen. he’ll take a picture of the mess when he’s done, just to remind you to take care of yourself, too.

2023 SAETOSHIS.

taglist : @hystix @garoujo @youronlygirl-riri @r-oronoa @simp-lauren @boyfrwenz @donvampiro @littleoanh + @thetempleofnyx

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sukiipjs · 3 months

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✮ PAINTED NAILS

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

↳ nick sturniolo x masc reader

↳ words - 1227

↳ summary - just nick with a oral fixation, he keeps playing and sucking on your fingers n shit, why not keep his mouth busy another way 😽

↳ contains - smut, oral, swearing, slight biting, hand/finger kink??, idfk

↳ song - glory box by portishead

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

°:. *₊ ° . ☆

me and nick sit on our couch, eyes glued onto edward scissorhands for like the hundredth time. my arm rests around his shoulder, nicks hand up by his mouth as he bites the skin around his nails.

my eye catches him and i turn my head, “stop biting your nails, bad habit” i laugh a little as i swat away his hand. “you can’t say shit, you do the same thing” he laughs back, rolling his eyes. “at least i know i shouldn’t” i eye him before turning back to the movie.

i adjust my arm a little, scooting myself closer to nick, letting the blanket cover me more. my hand dangles by his chest, the shine of my gold nail polish shimmering when rays of sun hits it.

as nicks eyes focus on the movie, i feel his hand touch mine. when i look over at him, i see his fingers playing with mine as he feels my skin, starting to pick at mine. i smile a little seeing his white painted nails play with my fingers and palm.

i ignore it, i don’t even think he notices that he’s holding my hand instead of his. i return my eyes to the screen until i feel a cold touch on my finger. i look back to nick once again and see his teeth clenching on my nail, his teeth and tongue playing with my finger as he moves more of it to his mouth.

i admire this, i stare at the movements his tongue makes as it scrapes against my nail, feeling the sharpness before biting teeth into it. i don’t mind it, i like seeing the way that he uses his tongue to move my finger onto his bottom lip, the way he pushes his lip up then taking my finger back into his mouth, gently biting it.

my eyes move from his lips to my finger, to my finger to his tongue, back to his lips. i notice how the ways he moves his mouth is similar to the way he moves it while sucking me off, the way his tongue starts at the top and moves down to let him lips wrap around it, much as he’s doing my finger.

nick doesn’t even notice how i’m staring at him until i let out a wince when his teeth sink into my skin a little too much, “you okay?” his head quickly turns to me, my fingers out his mouth and dangling by his neck once again. “you just bit me,” i laugh a little as nick gives a confused look. “what?” i look at my arm that lays on his shoulder nudging my head to it.

“that was your hand?” a small smile comes to his face as he scoffs a laugh. “uh sorry,” he laughs again as i do the same. “oh i don’t care. you know…i know how you could keep your mouth busy another way…” i smile, my eyes peering at his lips before moving back to his eyes. my head and lips moving closer to him. “yeah? how so?” his eyes stare into mine before i move the hand that rests on him to hold the back of his head, pushing our lips together.

my gold painted nails tangle themselves into nicks hair as my lips pick at his, all i get is small breaths of air when i can as i’m too focused on moving my tongue with his. my other hand finds it’s way to his back, trying to move him to my lap. nick pulls away when he can tell what i’m doing, a smirk across his face as he throws himself onto my lap, balancing himself on my bulge.

he drags our lips together again, his tongue reaching every crevice of my mouth. his hips slowly grind on me, my hand still stuck in his hair, “mph nick-“ a gentle moan slipping from my mouth to his, nicks smile grows as his teeth catch onto my lip, pulling slowly before moving back to look at me. i eye down to him on my lap and buck my hips up into him, trying to give him a signal as he lets out a small laugh.

“if you insist” he smirks again before kissing me. he then moves off my lap and kneels down in front of me, i spread my legs so he has room to be between them.

he sets his hands on my thighs, looking up at me with his blue eyes, the sun hitting his face perfectly making him shine even more. small hoop earrings and his hoop nose ring, sliver and also shining. god he’s perfect.

he slowly moves his fingers toward the waist band of my plaid pajama pants, he moves to the middle, playing with the green string before slipping his fingers in the top of my pants, pulling them down my boxers coming with it.

he slips them off my ankles so i can spread out my legs once more. my hardness presents itself in front of him, he rests his hands on my legs, slowly moving his creeping fingers up and down, slowly moving them to the inner of my thighs.

i bite my bottom lip softly as i stare down at him, he looks back up at me, never breaking eye contact. he scoots a little forward before touching his tongue to my tip, i let out a soft sigh, my eyes shaking closed. i feel nicks hand move to rest on the base as he takes me more, slowly moving his head up and down, still staring up at my closed eyes.

my eyes only open when a sharp scrape of teeth hits on my hard, i look down at nicks, his lips wrap back around me again, a small smile across his face. the nonverbal way of telling me to look at him, so i do.

his fingers grip around me, stroking half and taking the other of me still in his mouth, bobbing up and down. small sighs of moans slip from me as i bite down on my lip harder, my eyebrows narrow seeing nicks eyes never stopping to look up at me. small drops of spit dripping down on his chin, “fuck-“ my breath is short as my head leans back, eyes rolling back in my head as i feel nicks tongue swirl around my tip.

his hand moves off me, taking more of me into his mouth, my tip hitting the back of his throat. “nick“ breathless still, my fingers grab his hair, gently pulling as i push him down into me. a gag and choke from nick as my hips buck up, releasing myself into him. “fuck! nick-” my teeth clenching stops and the grip on his hair loosens as nick pulls his head off from me.

nick uses the back of his hand to wipe off some spit before bouncing back onto the couch, sitting next to me again as he leans his head on my shoulder. i bend down, grabbing my pants and boxers before putting them back on. “i love you,” i sit back and turn my head to him, kissing his forehead then resting my head on top of his. “i know” he smiles back at me, resting on my shoulder as we finish the movie.

☆ °:. *₊ ° . °

taglist - @slutforchriss @mattsleftnipple03 @mattsdinosweater @ccolleenn @mixvchelle @leah-loves-lilies @sturn-wrld @redz0nez9 @cheriematt

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo #𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐢𝐩𝐣𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝜗𝜚⋆#sukiipjs #𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐢𝐩𝐣𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝜗𝜚⋆

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mydarlingem · 1 year

Text

guess who is actually back for realsies!! life has been so fucking crazy but i come bearing gifts! requests always open pls give me ideas. thank you for reading ilysm and i missed you! 🫶

cw - nsfw, grinding and a little sex but nothing too detailed. he just needs you so bad!!

470 words

atsumu miya is in love with you.

 hes in love with you when you sit on his lap after a long day of practice, running your hands through his hair while he listens to you talk about drama with people he could not care less about, he just loves the sound of your voice.

hes in love with you when you are out for drinks with msby and their partners and he cant keep his eyes off of you. you just radiate joy and it never fails to make him feel your joy. he loves how well you get along with his teammates, it means a lot to him that you get along with some of the most important people in his life.

hes in love with you when you get up with him for early practices. he loves kissing your nose each morning as you shake the sleep off, brushing your teeth together and wrapping himself around you while you make his breakfast. leaving little kisses on your neck when you laugh and swat him away, saying you dont wanna burn the eggs. he loves the sound of your laugh.

hes in love with you when you wear that matching lace set, straps and fabric clinging to your soft skin, grinding softly on him. he thinks he could cum so hard he would go blind. how stunning you look on him, how good you smell, the taste of your chapstick is permanently seared into his brain.

hes in love with you when hes deep inside you, skin on skin he cant possibly feel closer to you but he needs more. how his name falls from your lips and your hands cling to him as he fucks you like there is no tomorrow. how he loves to take care of you afterward, always cleaning you up and holding you, feeling so secure in his arms.

hes in love with you when you mumble his name in your sleep, subconsciously reaching for his hand. it makes his heart feel warm, he always grabs your hand to clasp, though he would never tell you that. he loves having some sort of physical contact at night because even if he is asleep, he loves knowing you are still there.

hes in love with you on the days you feel like everything is going wrong. when you cant find your keys, you burnt breakfast and your hair doesnt look right. the chaos of a bad day means that time spent decompressing together will make you feel even better, there is nothing he loves more than being there for you.

because atsumu miya who loves with his whole heart. he loves every single weird quirk and habit you have because they all make you the person who is making him a better man.

#haikyuu x reader #drabble #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #atsumu smut #miya atsumu #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #haikyuu

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palioom · 6 months

Text

string lights

summary: you want to decorate the Christmas tree, Jack has other things in mind.

pairing: jack “whiskey” daniels x f!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; dirty talk; unprotected p in v; some bondage; inappropriate use of string lights (and probably unsafe too)

a/n: finished this despite writer's block, enjoy!

• masterlist •

Never ever give Jack Daniels anything that resembles a piece of rope.

That was something she had learned quite quickly while living with him, because if Jack was one thing, it was a fucking menace.

A terrible, hot and cocky menace.

As soon as he could get his hands on rope inside the house – and sometimes even outside of the house, like in the barn – he would not hesitate to use it. It was a fun habit, really. The things he would do with it ranged from grabbing things from across the room, to catching her so he could pull her into his body amongst other quite entertaining things.

Or loop it around her body for an impromptu bondage session. Pretty knots carefully placed all over her body, making her writhe below his broad frame while she desperately moaned his name.

She really should’ve known better than to let him detangle the string lights for the Christmas tree. Because usually, that was her job. It was calming most of the time, sitting cross legged on the sofa and slowly freeing inch by inch from the huge ball it had turned into over the year.

With the TV running in the background, while Jack got the tree all set up in the corner of the living room before he would start on the exterior of the house.

This time, she had given him the task to detangle them, all because she wanted to decorate the living room. She hadn’t gotten around to doing it before now, setting down the little cowboy themed ornaments wherever she could.

Santa dressed as a cowboy, cows instead of reindeers, fitted with small Christmas hats and festive looking cowboy boots were just some of the things.

They had even more ornaments to go on the tree, some downright ridiculous, but charming in a way.

But just as she was finishing up the fireplace, hanging up stockings that looked like cowboy boots, she felt something loop around her middle and pull her back.

And that’s how she had ended up here, string lights wrapped around her wrists and arms, looping around her torso. Blinking in colourful lights like she was the Christmas tree – just spread out on the floor in front of it.

Arms raised above her head, the lights leading to the nearest outlet, Jack knelt between her bare, spread thighs and laughed at the display.

“Ain’t you a pretty thing?” He drawled, the southern accent thick as he spoke. Always showing those pearly white teeth as he smiled, his rough hands smoothing under the fabric of her top.

They were cold, a shiver running over her skin and her nipples hardening beneath the knitted sweater.

“I look like a fucking Christmas tree.” She replied with a small laugh, arching her back when Jack’s hands found the swell of her breasts. A moan slipped past her lips as he squeezed them, his clothed bulge rutting against her naked pussy when he shifted slightly. “You gonna put me on display instead of that?”

A twinkle appeared in his eyes, clearly liking the idea she had thrown out as a joke. The mental image of her standing in that corner instead of the tree, full of ornaments and string lights, simply was too good.

“Don’t give me ideas, darlin’.” He chuckled, leaning over her to slot his lips over her own. Grinding his middle into her on purpose, just to hear those small gasps and pants tumble into his mouth, her legs wrapping around his middle.

She struggled against the restraints, some of the warm bulbs pressing into her skin - Jack had made sure these were LEDs so he wouldn’t accidentally burn her. It was kinda fun to be restrained like this, but, fuck, she really needed to touch him. Open the zipper of those damn jeans so he could finally fuck her instead of rubbing himself against her clit.

“Jack, please.” She whined against his lips, his thick mustache tickling her skin as he kept kissing her. Like he was in no rush to continue, despite the hard length in his jeans. “Fuck me.”

Jack leaned back with a chuckle, smirking down at her while he admired his work. The blinking lights only added to the usual excitement of seeing her tied up, completely at his mercy but now bathed in a flurry of lights.

A small, wet patch was visible on his jeans, making her groan.

“I think I’ll be nice today, little lady.” He drawled, his hands running over her exposed thighs, then over her calves before leaving her skin and finding the zipper of his jeans. “Givin’ you an early Christmas present.”

Even a so-called present from Jack included some teasing, palming himself with one hand while a small groan escaped him, the other one slowly pulling down the zipper. Keeping her squirming in her restraints, on the plush carpet below her.

“You’re gonna give me a headache, Jack.” She groaned, her eyes glued to where his thick fingers now vanished into his jeans to pull out his cock. Already leaking, the tip fat and dark and just begging to be buried inside of her. “Gimme your cock, please.”

Jack spit into his hand, giving himself a few small tugs, languid and teasing before moving closer to her. Slowly he let the head drag through her glistening folds, coaxing a whine out of her whenever he nudged against her swollen clit.

Savouring this, and the sight of her, watching how she spread her legs wider so she exposed herself to him. A million ideas raced through his head as he watched the lights blink rhythmically, making him unable to wait any longer as he pressed inside of her.

“Oh, fuck yeah…” She breathed out, enjoying the stretch his cock brought as he stretched her open, her fingers flexing and needing to touch him.

He braced himself with one hand on each side of her head, his cowboy hat lopsided when he looked down at her, brown eyes even darker than before. This was so much better than decorating the tree.

“You think we can do other things with those lights, cowgirl?” Jack rasped, already overwhelmed by her when he started to move. Slowly, pulling almost all the way back before slamming himself back into her. “Tie you to the bed with it? Make it a lil’ more festive?”

She nodded, moaning when he hit that good spot inside of her. The idea was good, something about him tying her to the bed with these string lights instead of their usual rope just added to the excitement.

The small lights pressing into her skin, warming it up, definitely helped turn her on. To see her skin lit up in reds and blues and greens while he fucked into her, his face illuminated by them too.

“Sounds fucking good, Jack.” She breathed out, her back arching when he picked up his speed. One of his hands bunched up the fabric of her sweater, pulling it up to expose her breasts to him, the air of the living room cold against her heated skin.

“Look at you like this.” He groaned, ducking his head to suck one pebbled nipple into her mouth, licking and biting at it while he kept fucking into her. “Think these are sturdy enough to hang you from the ceiling?”

“Oh, God.” She moaned. They had recently gotten into it, letting Jack tie his knots all around her body and then suspending her from their bedroom ceiling. That image made her squeeze his cock hard. “Please, yes!”

Jack chuckled around her nipple, his own mind consumed by the image of her suspended by these colourful lights. He could decorate her like a tree, add ornaments to the knots, into her hair.

She always wanted things to be more festive.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, little lady?” He drawled, feeling himself close to just spilling inside of her. The wet squelch of her was evidence enough that this needed to happen again. “Hangin’ from the ceiling, all nice ‘n pretty for me while I stretch your little pussy open with my fingers and my cock?”

“Tie me up again.” She whined, legs wrapping around his hips and pulling him in deeper. The wiry hair above his cock kept brushing against her clit, creating more of that friction she desperately craved, so close to the edge. “Gonna cum, Jack, fuck-”

The thought of it all - her hanging from the ceiling while the lights deliciously bit into her skin and Jack’s thick fingers fucked into her - let her orgasm crash into her, rolling over her like an avalanche. She pulled Jack closer, tightening the grip her legs had on him, a low grunt coming from him as her pussy sucked him in deeper, gripping him like a vice.

“That’s it, ‘atta girl.” He groaned, spilling his cum inside of her just a few shallow thrusts later, bending his head to press his lips onto hers, teeth clashing against each other with the force of it. “Cum all over my cock.”

Once again she strained against the string around her wrists, her arms hurting at this point while wave after wave washed over her, her whines and moans muffled by his mouth on hers.

Slowly calming down, he pushed himself up again, looking down at her while she dazedly smiled at him. Warm and cozy beneath him.

“You can detangle the lights more often, cowboy.” She giggled, wincing slightly when she moved her arms once more. Now that the rush of the pleasure and her orgasm ebbed away, it did hurt a little bit.

Jack swiftly opened the knots he had tied around her wrists before moving down her arms, granting her movement.

“I’m serious ‘bout you hangin’ from the ceiling, sugar.” Jack drawled, taking one of her wrists into his large hand once he had freed her and brought it to his mouth to kiss the faint, red mark there. A dangerous glint was in his eyes, and she knew that as the idea had sparked in his head, he would definitely go ahead and try it out with her. “We’ve got the setup, just gotta get more lights, mhm?”

She giggled again, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes. “Let’s get the tree set up first, alright?”

Jack laughed too, pulling out of her and then helping her get dressed.

Oh, he couldn’t wait to see her covered in those tiny lights once again. And maybe she’d let him decorate her just a little more, too.

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gococogo · 2 months

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Hello would it be ok to have a destiel fanfic with prompts "Just like we promised" and "I've missed your touch" i love ur work <3

Prompt 1 | Destiel

Synopsis: Dean has been out on a hunt for over a month and hasn't called Cas at all. He's still getting use to this whole fucking an angel thing.

Word Count: 2.9K

Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel

Warnings: Angst. Sappy. Smutty.

Notes: It's more than okay to want this. This was a pleasure to write and I hope you enjoy what i created! Enjoy!

The pacing became a constant thing on the fourth week. On the fifth, the nail biting had started. A bad habit he’s picked up from Sam out of all people, a nasty human habit. But the satisfaction behind it to relieve stress almost calms Cas’s nerves. He had paced from the main foyer to the kitchen to Dean’s room. Dean’s room is one of the main places that Castiel had resided.

When the sixth week came around, Cas’s nails were all chewed off and he had began picking at the skin around them. Dean was meant to call an entire week ago. No SMS either. No even a single prayer. Complete radio silence.

Sam had given Castiel Charlie’s number in case he got bored. Dean had made a comment about Charlie’s Angels. Something Cas didn’t understand until he had looked it up on his own phone later that day. But Sam had insisted yet Castiel declined saying he would be perfectly fine, for angel’s cannot feel human depths of boredom, just passing time.

One thousand and eight hours and six minutes to be exact. So, the angel isn’t bored per say, just very, deathly worried about Dean. And Sam.

The fourth day of the sixth week, the chunk and click of the bunker door snaps Castiel out of his trance in the main foyer. He stands up from where he sits at the table as laughter and voices burst into the bunker. By God is it good to hear their voices but at the same time it brings out so many bad emotions that vibrate his being and make him grind his teeth.

Sam is first to walk down the stairs, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a grin upon his face. When he spots the angel, his smile faulters. He tries his best to play it off but Cas sees the uncertainty.

“Oh, Castiel!” Sam says more surprised than anything, “I didn’t expect you to still be here!” He speaks as if the conversation they had over a month ago never happened. Which only -what’s that word Dean uses- pisses him off even more.

“I’ve been here this entire time,” Cas grumbles.

Which is below an angel of the lord like himself but the frustration flickering around inside of him is something that he hasn’t felt in a good while. Probably since apocalypse days.

“Cas!”

All eyes go to the older brother making his way down the stairs. Unlike Sam, Dean isn’t unscathed. His lip is busted, and his entire right eye is blackened. His eyebrow is split, and three gauze strips hold it together.

As soon as Dean comes down the last set of stairs, Cas is already across the room pushing past Sam to press two fingers to his forehead. The hunter straightens up at the sudden wellness that comes over him. His bruising disappears and fades into yellow and the cuts and scrapes heal without a scar. He goes to thank the angel but all he sees is a very frustrated one in front of him.

“You were suppose to contact me,” Castiel speaks firmly. Like angel of the lord firm. “But I received none of the sort.”

Sam goes deathly quiet behind them. He places his duffle bag of guns and knives on the table which make a louder noise than he originally intended. As if the sound is cutting through the thick tension in the room.

Dean sucks in air through teeth as he tries to avoid eye contact with the angel. But it doesn’t matter where he looks because Cas is only a few inches from him. So those deep blue eyes is all he sees.

“The hunt got very busy, Cas you know how it gets,” Dean argues poorly as he shrugs his shoulders. “We didn’t have time.”

“We had plenty of time,” Sam comments from the table.

Castiel slowly turns his attention towards Sam with a frown. All while Dean looks to his brother with a look of betrayal mixed with disgust. Sam swallows thickly and picks up his duffle bag.

“I’ll go put these away in the stash,” Sam grins sheepishly as he scoots himself across the room.

Blue returns back to green who looks more like a hurt child than anything. And all that anger and frustration is slow to wash away as Cas brings a hand to Dean’s cheek. The hunter flinches away slightly at first but stays in the warm touch of the angel.

“I still don’t know what I’m doing, Cas,” Dean murmurs.

The angel lets out a deep sigh that has his shoulders drooping. Oh Dean.

“I’m…” The hunter clears his throat, readjusting his tone to something more manlier. “I’m still very new to this. To us.”

Cas holds Dean’s face in both his hands, almost engulfing his face but the hunter stays so still. Why still keep up this façade that doesn’t work on the angel? He’s seen him break and cry and become soft so many times. Why still keep up daddy’s good lil soldier in front of him?

A soft kiss is planted on Dean’s forehead over his once black eye. Then, like all the other times Cas has kissed Dean, he kisses the hunter gently and warmly. The heat that the angel radiates is like a furnace yet so inviting.

Dean grabs onto Castiel’s trench coat as he leans forward, deepening the kiss a little. In this moment, Cas can put his own irritation aside for this. He holds Dean, taste the hint of jerky on his mouth from the trip here. It isn’t the most pleasant of tastes, but Dean has kissed him with worst. Much worse.

Calloused hands make their way under Cas’s coat to his waist. This, this is something the angel has missed. Even if it has been a month and two weeks. Too long for his own good.

Unlike Cas, Dean pulls away to inhale a breath of air. The hunter smiles something wicked and Cas’s eyes slightly widen. Dean’s fingers loop into Cas’s belt and flips the buckle open a little too swiftly and a little too eagerly. A soft grip latches onto his wrist, stopping him in his movements. Dean raises a brow at the angel.

“I don’t think Sam will be too impressed if he catches us out here,” Castiel points out sternly, “Like last time.”

Dean barks out a fit of laughter, the memory coming to mind of Sam’s horrified face at the sight of the two. Dean splayed out on the table with the angel over him, his blue eyes as wide as saucepans. Both stark ass naked with the angel’s white butt out on full display.

“Why not?” Dean chuckles out.

Cas can’t help but roll his eyes. With his grip still on Dean’s wrist he begins backing up slowly across the foyer, dragging Dean along.

“You worry too much,” Dean grins.

“I don’t think I worry enough,” Cas bites back playfully.

Dean stops the angel and draws him into for another deep kiss. One that has him gripping the back of Cas’s hair and looping his fingers back into his belt. Dean pulls away but only mere millimetres, not wanting to stay away for too long.

Those green eyes lock onto the angel and Cas won’t lie, he’s missed those emeralds. He runs a thumb over Dean’s freckled cheek and smiles softly when he sees that everything is the same. No more bruises or cuts. Dean follows the notion with a side eye, almost wanting to pull away but staying still and stiffens under the touch.

It takes both of them a good while to get back to Dean’s room. Having to push the hunter there rather than drag him along since he kept stopping Cas. He isn’t vocal about it but he can tell that the hunter can’t keep his hands off of Cas.

Clothes come off a little too easily and Cas can’t help but frown when he spots more cuts and bruises on Dean’s frame. With soft touches, Cas heals them without a second thought. Dean shivers under the touch, his eyes tracking every movement. With a warm glow, Cas heals a deep purple bruise on Dean’s chest that has the hunter breathing a little easier. But with that he pushes Dean back onto the bed. The springs creak under his weight and he disrupts the perfectly made blankets. Cas’s work.

Dean tries to sit up on the bed but is pushed down again when Cas straddles his lap. He runs his hands over Dean’s body once more, making sure that he hasn’t missed any nicks and cuts. He could heal Dean in one go, but where’s the fun in that?

“I’ve…” Dean hesitates, adverting his gaze downwards to the angel’s hands. “I’ve missed your touch.”

“Hmm,” Cas hums at that with a smile.

“I wish I had called,” Dean continues. “Or sent a text. But I’m scared alright. As stupid as that sounds.”

The angel’s smile falls at that. To respond to that, he clasps the hunter’s face in his hands and kisses him softly unlike before. He moves his hips down on Dean as well, making the hunter squirm under his weight. Maybe he can forgive Dean after all.

In between the kisses, the angel mumbles out, “It’s not stupid at all.”

The result of watching Dean’s face go beet red is a reward in it’s own. Cas kisses him again, humming into his mouth with satisfaction. Such a human thing to do. How much he’s changed since being around Dean. He’s changed him so much. Does Dean realize just how much he’s done for the angel? Or is he blind to that fact? Maybe he might have to ask him one day. But not now.

Not when he feels Dean’s grip tighten on his hips, wanting him to grind down harder into him. The friction is something that the hunter craves at this moment. He grows hard and his dick rubs in between the angel’s cheeks. Precum leaks from Dean’s dick, making the glide easier.

Cas sits up slowly and as if out of nowhere, he holds Dean’s bottle of lube in hand. Dean’s stares at it bug eyed for a moment but doesn’t question it because he knows he left that in the bottom draw of his dresser. Where it normally stays. Either Cas miraculously brought the bottle to his hand or it was always on the bed and he just didn’t see it. Either either, both make sense for the angel.

“Let me,” Dean says as he takes the bottle from him.

Lathering his fingers up generously, Dean a little too eagerly brings his hand around Cas’s ass and inserts two fingers. The angel grunts at the sudden penetration, his eyes fluttering shut. With Dean’s other hand as he sets a quick pace to open up Cas, he kneads his thumb into the angel’s hips. Holding on as if he’s going to fly away with those wings of his.

Cas towers over Dean, scrunching up the blankets into his fists next to the hunter’s head. More lube is added and then a third finger is fitted right to the next others. Cas’s breathing becomes heavy, every nerve in his body buzzing and every inch of his grace humming. He can feel everything a little too well for his own good. The stretch of the three fingers, the way his hard cock rubs up against Dean’s, the way that he’s been wanting to feel Dean’s touch once more. Too much.

Deeming the angel ready, Dean brings his lubed fingers to slick his own dick up. He exhales shakily, holding himself together by a thread. The entire hunt, the Angel of Thursday was on his mind yet he was too coward to send a simple prayer. Next time. Next time we won’t be so stupid.

Cas exhales shakily, opening his eyes to meet a lustful green graze. The angel looks into those eyes fondly with a smile coming upon his reddened lips. He kisses Dean again, this time deepening it and grinding down on the hunter again. Dean grunts under him and digs that thumb into his hip a little more.

Dean guides the head of his dick to Cas’s ass, rubbing himself between his cheeks a few times. He pushes the tip of his dick in, humming in the kiss at the warmth he feels. He pushes in a little deeper and breaks the kiss, his face scrunching up into something needy. Cas continues lining Dean’s exposed neck though with small kisses, sucking and biting lightly. Dean groans as he grabs onto the angel’s hips with both hands to help guide him down.

Cas winces but moans something whiny into the hunter’s skin. He still smells like the hunt. Gun powder, cheap pharmacy cologne and musk. Dean grunts with every push. He fucks into Cas eagerly, but the angel isn’t going to stop him. He’s enjoying this too much. He’s missed Dean too much to let this pass. His body buzzes and constricts with pleasure that he can’t help the noises that comes his mouth. He can feel himself shaking in the hunter’s hold, his grace vibrating within.

Dean pushes Cas down onto him until he’s flush against his hips. The angel groans and breathes heavily as Dean only gives him a few seconds of adjustment before he begins a quick pace again. Each time he thrusts into Cas, he brings the angel down just as hard that gets a satisfying grunt from him.

The hunter sits up suddenly, still holding onto Cas so that they’re flush against each other. With each movement, Cas’s dick rubs up against their stomachs. The angel holds onto him as he lets the hunter fucks out everything from the hunt. Dean groans deep within his throat as he keeps moving at a constant pace, thrusting into Cas on his lap. It’s more of an awkward bob at this point, both being too desperate to do much more. But both are satisfied right now.

But Dean wants more. Suddenly, he flips and throws Cas onto the bed with little effort. He grabs onto the back of the angel’s knees and pushes his legs up so that he’s almost folded in half. He lines himself up again, this time slipping in easier than the last.

The new angle has Cas shivering and grunting with each thrust into him. He digs his fingernails into Dean’s shoulder, unable to gain control of the delicious noises coming from his throat.

Through shaky pants, Dean is able to grumble out a deep, “I’ve missed you.”

Another shiver runs down Cas’s back, earning a whimper like sound from him. The hunter’s cock passes by that sweet bundle of nerves inside of Cas that has him grunting with each movement. Cas wraps his legs around Dean, holding him close as the hunter’s thrust become short and shallow. Dean comes down for a sloppy kiss, mostly broken by breaths of shaky inhales.

“I’ve-“ Dean pecks Cas on the mouth, cutting him off. “missed you-“ another kiss, “…too.”

Dean brings a hand down to wrap about the angel’s leaking cock, flicking a thumb over his tip with every stroke. Cas arches his back the best he can in the position he’s in and startles out a cry. By God, he can feel himself getting close. His body buzzes and feels like tv static with just a simple touch. He doesn’t want this to be over already, but with Dean abusing that sweet part inside of him he can’t hold on at all.

Cas chokes out a strangled cry as his whole body and grace feels like it’s going to explode. He releases hot strips into Dean’s hand as he digs his bitten nails deeper into the hunter’s shoulders. He heals the bruising before it even comes about, even in his stare of high. Dean keeps fucking through his orgasm, making it ten times more intense.

“Dean,” Cas grits out.

With a few couple of more hard thrusts, Dean drives his cock deeper into Cas as he reaches his own orgasm. Dean stiffens up, unmoving as he cums hot and deep within the angel. Who would have thought. Fucking an angel of the lord.

Cas shivers at the new sensation of the warmth inside of him. He grits his teeth, holding Dean in place. He doesn’t think he can handle the hunter moving at this given moment. Both stay still for a good few minutes, a panting and sweaty mess. Cas can’t help but shake faintly, his breathing ragged and uneven. He can feel his grace is all over the place and he tries his best to collect himself.

But it’s very hard when Dean lands on top of the angel with an audible, “Oof,” slipping out of the angel in the process. Cas places a hand on his back and gives him a light pat on the shoulder. But Dean doesn’t move and inch, his face flat against the nape of his neck.

“I’m coming with you next time,” Cas grumbles out.

Whatever Dean says next, it’s lost into a mumble and jumble of words in the angel’s neck. This earns a short chuff from the angel, knowing full well that the hunter can’t stop him in doing so. What he says goes. But right now, he’s fully content in laying in for a few minutes. He’s fine in letting time pass by when it’s with Dean Winchester.

Have an amazing day/night ;)

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