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#but sometimes I want his tongue down her throat
dollfacefantasy · 2 days
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hiii i’m not sure if you particularly like writing hybrid!reader but can i pls request something with leon where he tries to feel out his bunny/dog hybrid gf’s kinks by seeing how her tail moves in response to them. like something she really likes she’ll wag her tail real fast and he finds it adorable
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pairing: leon kennedy x fem!puppy-hybrid!reader
summary: leon plays with his precious puppy girl by watching her tail
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, humping his boot, daddy kink, praise kink, breeding kink, scent kink, dacryphilia, and size kink
word count: 2.6k
a/n: no because i love this idea so much. it's been in my head since i got it. i hope i did it justice because i think it's so cute. thank you for sending it and i hope you enjoy <3
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Leon’s eyes rested upon his favorite sight in the whole world. His precious puppy girl kneeling at his feet. If he had to guess, he’d say it was your favorite place to be too. All signs pointed to that conclusion. Your eyes were wide and locked onto his face. Your body vibrated and squirmed with the urge to jump into his lap. And of course, the way your tail wagged back and forth.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
The fluffy appendage moves in a lazy rhythm right now. You were excited Leon was home and wanted to play, but you weren’t thrilled enough for it to turn to a blur. He chuckles and reaches a hand forward to rub your head. That gets it to speed up a little bit.
“You have a good day, pup?” he asks.
You scoot the slightest bit closer while nodding. You tilt your head to the side, squishing the flesh of your cheek against his knee.
“Yeah? What’d you do today?” he says.
“Took a nap. Watched the tv,” you answer, “You look tired, daddy.”
He smiles at your observation and scratches at the base of one of your ears. Those ears, which were perked up at the moment, were so sensitive to everything. The wind knocking something over outside, his car pulling up on the driveway, and of course, small changes in his inflection. 
Though he sometimes wondered if that’s all it was. He sees the way your tail picks up a notch when his lips curl upwards with that smile. He wondered, if not hoped, that it was something more than just your heightened physical capabilities. If maybe, there was something within you, something deeper, some instinctive emotional connection that bound you to him. That was probably wishful thinking. Someone who understood him implicitly. Still that was how he felt sometimes, and it was always lingering in the back of his mind when he watched your cute little ass wiggle back and forth with the movement of your tail.
“A little. Had a long day at work,” he tells you, continuing the conversation.
“Oh. Was it boring?” you inquire.
“You could say that,” he says.
“I get bored sometimes when you’re not here too,” you say.
The short, curt way you speak drives him up the wall. His hand on top of your head trails down to your cheek and gives it a little pinch before his thumb lands on your lips. Your tongue darts out to give the pad a small lick.
“Cute,” he murmurs as his fingers descend to your jawline and then your throat, “Why were you so bored, puppy? You have the whole house to yourself. You have enough toys to fill a room.”
“But I was missing my favorite toy,” you say, nuzzling against his leg.
“Oh, your favorite toy, huh?” he says. 
His fingers tease the edge of the smooth material that was wrapped around your neck. In place of a collar, you wore a pink satin ribbon. It bunched around to the front of your neck where it was tied in a pretty bow. Leon’s own handiwork. He never saw a reason to collar you. You were the most loyal little thing on the face of this Earth. Even if he kicked you out, you’d probably just take up residence on the mat at the front door. He’d rather you look like the spoiled princess that you were and dress you in the pink ribbon to match the other pink items you wore, your camisole and panties.
You nod at the question he asked, the ends of your bow swaying with your motion.
“Yeah? Well, tell daddy. What’s your favorite toy?” he prompts you.
Your hand snakes up to the front of his jeans and paws at the area where you would soon feel the outline of his hardening dick.
“That’s your favorite?” he asks, feigning ignorance, “Wow. If I'd known that, I wouldn’t have bought you all those stuffies. Coulda saved me a ton of money. Just let you sit on my cock most of the time, and you’d be satisfied.”
You shrug, not caring to roll that proposition around in your head for actual consideration. Sure you loved your toys, but they didn’t come close to one tucked away inside daddy’s jeans.
He grins not only because you’re so fucking cute, but also because he can see your tail starting to go faster. As much as he wants to pull you onto his lap and breed you till you’re a mess of drool and tears, he wants more tonight. You were nothing if not eager, and while he loved that, it meant that it didn’t take much effort from you to get him to cum in minutes. You’d just get so tight, you never suppressed any of your moans or whines, your face always scrunched up into needy expressions of euphoria…
Anyways. He just wanted to tease it out tonight.
“You have been a good girl today. I think you deserve some time with your favorite toy,” he says, watching the specific twitch when he said the two words of praise, “You wanna play with it right now?”
You nod almost as quickly as your tail wags. A sonorous laugh echoes from him. His eyes hold that glint that lets you know there’s more.
“What’s your favorite way to play with it, baby? You like bouncing on it?” he asks, his voice gaining an amused lilt.
You don’t respond with words. He knows your nodding, but his focus is on your backside where he’s getting the only response he needs.
Swish.
“Maybe you like taking it face down, whining into the pillow?” he continues.
Swish Swish.
“Or maybe you like being on your back, legs over daddy’s shoulders?”
Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish Swish.
“I think that’s the winner,” he chuckles, “Why is that your favorite, pup?”
“It gets deeper,” you say. He watches as you try to be subtle about scooching closer. He wasn’t going to stop you though.
“Oh I see,” he says, nodding his head in mock realization, “You want it as deep as possible, right? And to do that, I have to pin you down, keep you underneath me where I can just fill that pussy up over and over. You like being helpless, princess?”
As his tone becomes more husky, you take your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Your hips fight the urge to squirm, but your tail can’t stop flinging itself back and forth. A tingling flame had been lit inside your belly, one you desperately wanted him to put out.
“Yeah. You love when I’m in charge. You love when all you have to do is take it like a good girl, and you can just let that little brain melt away,” he taunts. With each swish of your tail, it’s like he can hear a game show buzzer ringing in his points.
You wrap your arms around his leg that was nearest to you and pathetically whimper out “daddy.”
“What is it, puppy?” he coos.
You look up at him and give him the definition of puppy eyes. “I want it. No more teasing,” you whine. Despite your demanding words, you stay put. You were a good girl after all, and good girls wait for permission.
“What? You want it?” he mocks, “What’s the rush, baby? You don’t like daddy’s voice anymore? You sure were liking it last night when you were all sleepy. Just whining and clinging onto me, begging me not to pull out.”
The movements of your tail start to become blurry as you remember the previous night. He’d fucked you so good and talked you through it the whole time. The main difference between now and then was that then you had his cock stuffed inside you while he spoke.
“I do like it,” you defend with a pout, “But I just want it, daddy. Please. Wanna be full of you.”
“Full,” he repeats, “Does daddy stretch you out? Make you feel like there’s no room for anything else?”
You nod again, but you can’t take it anymore. You scoot forward more so your knees rest on either side of his boot. His knee kisses the space beneath your chin while the rest of his leg is flush up against your tummy, going straight between your breasts. He knows what you’re about to do, but he’s fine with it. Tilting the tip of his boot upwards, he gives you silent permission to start rocking your hips.
That was all you needed to close the gap between the top of his shoe and your clothed cunt. Lowering yourself slightly, your puffy clit brushes the leather. You let out a tiny mewl. Your face was already starting to scrunch up into a cute little look from such a simple touch.
“That feel good, sweetheart?” he teases.
“Yeah, daddy. Thank you,” you whimper.
Your hips move back and forth as if on a pendulum. The rhythm is consistent like the pacing of your tail. Back and forth, back and forth.
“I think you soaked through your panties, pretty baby. You gonna get daddy’s shoe all nice and shiny? Make it smell like you?” he says with a smug grin.
“Uh huh,” you mumble. 
But when Leon mentions scenting his boot, your tail starts going crazy. Absolutely buck wild. He wouldn’t be shocked if you sprained something from how hard it was moving. God, he was getting hard. A solid tent had formed in the center of his lap from watching you. So precious, so adorable. Those pants and whines of pure lust. The way your fingers were digging into the leg you held onto like you needed it to survive. The nonstop rutting of your hips matching up with the wag of your tail.
“Woah woah. Think my girl might be a little possessive,” he says as he watches you. He keeps his tone light. He wanted this to play out before he let himself have any. To stave off his desires, he palms himself over the rough denim.
Your eyes catch that, and it’s almost comical how you nearly drool. “I just want everyone to know you’re mine. You're my daddy. They can’t have you,” you say, nestling your face against his legs.
Your own pleasure builds in the pit of your belly. You’d found the perfect amount of pressure on his boot. You just had to keep grinding your aching cunt into the leather.
“Poor baby. No one’s gonna take me from you,” he croons and strokes your head. His hand moves so much slower than any of your body parts and the contrast intensifies the pleasure further.
“Good,” you say.
“Mhm. Trust me, you keep my hands full as is,” he jokes.
He watches as you keep whining and humping his boot. Your hips move like you’re on the clock. He can feel drool starting to drip on his jeans and dampen the fabric. If only he could see your eyes. He knows they’re getting glossy, hazy with the bliss coming from between your legs. Lucky for him, a particular jolt of ecstasy pulls your head back and ends with your face looking up at him.
“You’re getting to daddy’s favorite part, honey. Keep going, Keep being a good girl,” he says. Again, your tail jerks when it registers the magic words. You snap your hips with renewed fervor, chasing the elusive high. His fingers press down harder against his cock as he sees the gleam of saliva coating your chin and lips.
“When do we get to my favorite part?” you babble. Your voice was starting to give as the warmth of carnal pleasure encroaches on your mind.
“And what is your favorite part?” he asks, knowing what your answer would be.
“The part when I actually get your cock,” you whimper.
He shakes his head. “Look at you. Trying to be smart while you’re going dumb,” he teases, “Quit complaining. You’re still getting to feel good, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but it’s not the same,” you whine instantly.
“Oh really? It looks pretty similar to me,” he says.
You make a small sound that’s halfway between a whine and a growl. Even with your frustration though, your hips don’t stop.
“I’m just teasing you, pup,” he says, stroking your jaw with his free hand, “I guess it is different. I don’t see you crying like you do when I’m buried inside. I don’t get to see those pretty eyelashes all wet from tears.”
Your eyes roll back at the mention of being so fucked out you cry. It was one of your favorites, and Leon knew it. Being reduced to a crumpled mess of sobs against the heat of his chest got you like almost nothing else.
The reactions etched across your facial features are cute, but he can’t tear his focus away from your ass moving against its will through the force of your tail.
“But that’s not the big difference, is it?” he continues, “No. The real reason you want my cock is cause you want daddy to breed you, huh?”
As soon as it leaves his mouth, it’s like his mental buzzer is letting him know he’s won the grand prize. Everything about you goes haywire. You lock around his leg while your hips rut like you’re in heat. Your tail whips around so fast he thinks it could create a breeze.
“Uh huh, daddy- ah! Mm… just wanna be bred. Need it,” you ramble.
He feels his cock twitching in his pants. He’s sure when he actually does get it in you, he’s not gonna last too long. It’s straining against the zipper as is, and he can’t stop rubbing it. He’s almost as bad as you on the boot.
“I know you do. Silly little puppy. That’s always what you need,” he coos, “Just need to be pumped full of cum. My sweet girl.”
Your tongue is half lolled out of your mouth by this point. You’re past going dumb. Your head is swimming around in absolute thoughtlessness. Not a care in the world besides getting yourself to cum all over daddy’s boot.
He nearly groans out loud from the sight of it. He can feel the warmth of your pussy all over his shoe, the plush of your thighs clamped near the sides.
“You’re doing perfect, baby,” he mutters, “You’re gonna get your treat, I promise. Just let daddy watch you cum, and I’ll make sure you get your fill.”
You want to whimper “ok, daddy,” but your mind is too far gone for words. All that comes out is a strangled amalgamation of sounds accompanied by your head wobbling up and down. And the whole time swish swish swish.
Your swollen little clit had more than enough stimulation to get you to burst. Pants turn to gasps and fluid movements sharpen. You mumble against his leg, your lips squishing all over his pants and wetting them even more with your spit.
“That’s my good girl,” he purrs, which is enough to get another loud moan out of you. He chuckles and continues watching with his half-lidded, lustful eyes.
As the movement of your hips slow, your tail’s swings weaken. He still strokes your head as you catch your breath. Your chest puffs in and out while you feel your skin cooling down. It was hard not to get sleepy after you came, but before you have to worry about falling asleep at his feet, Leon scoops you up and holds you on his lap.
Rubbing your back, he presses some kisses to your forehead and temple. “There’s my girl. How’re you feeling, baby?”
“Good, daddy,” you mutter against his shirt.
“Yeah? You think you’re up for daddy breeding you for real now?” he whispers.
And suddenly, you’re not so sleepy. You sit up straight in time with your ears perking up. You nod and give him a lazy smile. He can’t see it, but he can feel that tail already starting to wag again.
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tacticaldiary · 7 months
Text
A Fighting Chance
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.
And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.
Part 2, Masterlist,
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"What're those?"
"Papers."
Ghost pauses halfway through opening the document, glancing up at the curtness of her voice. "Papers? She doesn't meet his eyes, gaze fixed on the table of the little booth they're sitting in.
The ice in her drink is long gone, watering down her coffee into something that tastes as bitter as her heart.
It had taken months for her to finally make this decision. Days of talking with her lawyer, crying alone at night and coming to the gruelling acceptance that this was for the best. It was best for both of them.
There's not many things that unsettle Simon. He's had blood stain his hands; his own, his comrades, and his enemies. Had almost any injury you could think of marring his skin, been prodded and ripped into, been the one on the opposite end of the knife.
But as he slides out the documents, turns them over, Simon's never felt more apprehensive.
He stills, reading the first few lines, clenching his jaw. "What is this?"
"I want a divorce."
And something in him crumbles at her defeated tone. Like she's already decided. Like he doesn't even have a chance to ask why or talk it through.
"No." He says tightly, putting them down and crossing his arms.
Her gaze shoots to his. "You can't just say that."
"I did. I won't sign them."
"I want this." She argues, and Simon swallows back the lump in his throat at how utterly tired she looks.
"I don't."
She's the light of his life, the one good, untouched piece of joy he gets to see. Something other than the bloodshed and violence he lives in.
"Simon," She says, shoulders sagging forward. "I can't do this anymore."
"This isn't the solution, love." He feels like his skin is crawling, the beginnings of unfamiliar panic clawing at his chest when she doesn't react to the pet name.
Doesn't smile, doesn't flush that beautiful red, doesn't squirm.
When she doesn't respond again, tight-lipped and clammed up and so determined to not look at him, he asks the question burning a hole through his tongue.
"Why?"
Deep down he knows. Knew this was coming but that part of him is buried under the thudding of his heart, and the rush of blood in his ears. Everything feels deathly still and moving too fast at the same time.
"Why?" She repeats, something in her stirring at the question. Her brow furrows and she switches from a cautious indifference to disbelief and frustration quicker than Simon can process. "Are you serious?" She huffs out an incredulous laugh. "You're away for months at a time and I'm supposed to what? Wait for you at our doorstep and wag my tail all happy when you finally come back to me?" Her grip tightens on her drink.
"Even when you are home, it's never about us. Never about me and you. You lock yourself in your study with your work, don't talk to me unless you come out for dinner or lunch. When was the last time we went out?" She demands. "When was the last time we went on a date? The last time we slept at the same time in the same bed?"
Simon clenches his jaw but says nothing, at a loss for words. It only encourages her to keep going, spewing thoughts that have been boiling over for the past few years.
"You barely look at me when we're home, I had to drag you out of the house to get here! You left halfway through our anniversary dinner last year because work called you in. Sometimes...sometimes I feel like you're only with me because it's easier than leaving and starting over, and that fucking hurts. It hurts when you can't bear to spend five minutes with me away from work. I've been telling you this for ages but you just...you don't listen to me." She leans forward, drink completely forgotten and hits the final nail in the coffin.
"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.
And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.
"I never even know if you're coming home to me." Her voice cracks, and she hugs her middle, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "So yes, Simon, I want to separate. I'm not happy, not like I was when I met you." A sheen of tears she refuses to let fall.
"You can focus on work like you love to, and I can...I can move on."
It was so good when they started out. She found him endearing, dry humour and brooding and all. It was special, those first few years, and she'll always care about him but this...this waiting, this hurting, laying in bed at night alone and cold and crying...it wasn't right. It wasn't what she wanted and she wouldn't force Simon to want it when he clearly didn't want to.
"Fucking hell, I love you." Simon says quickly, stumbling over what to say. He reaches out for her hand on the table, but she pulls it away before he can grab it. It stings more than he can convey, makes the reality crashes down onto him.
He's about to lose her.
Because he couldn't fucking bear to pull himself out of being 'Ghost'.
It was always a rough couple of weeks during his leave. The adjustment to civilian life was a slow one for him, but that's not really an excuse at all.
"I don't think you do."
Simon blinks at her like she's slapped him. "You...you don't think so?" He repeats, running a hand through his hair. She nods, one nod, quick and so sure that it makes his chest ache.
Fuck. He's absolutely messed up.
"Everything's finalised on my end." She says. "You just need to sign them." Her voice is soft, almost like she's coaxing him.
If there's one thing he knows, it's that he's not touching those fucking papers. He's not losing someone he loves again.
"I'll take time off." He says, the intensity of his gaze makes a shiver run down her spine. "We can work through it, yeah? You can't spring this on me and not give me a chance to protest."
She shakes her head, "You're only taking time off because I'm upset." She tries to explain. "What do you think is going to happen? We spend a month together doing what we used to, and when everything's a little more stable you leave again. Distance yourself. Shut me out. Then we're back to square one."
"Won't happen." He says like he hasn't been doing it for the past few years already. "You...I can't lose you, darling." He leans forward. "Let me make it better. Give me a few months-"
"Simon-"
"A week."
"A week?" Her eyes widen. "A week to...what, prove that you'll change?"
"One week."
She worries her lip between her teeth, considering. One week wasn't a long time, but hope was dangerous in a situation like this.
"I'm not letting you go over something like this." Simon says. "I can't."
"This isn't about you." She crosses her arms. "You really think you can turn just...reverse the past few years in a week?" Maybe it's foolish of her to want him to say yes, to fight for her and realise that she's been hurting, but goddamn doesn't a small part of her scream at him to do it anyway.
"Not trying to reverse it." He folds his arms, and she can see the tense line of his shoulders as he takes in the situation, gears turning in his head as he plans how he's going to work his way out of a situation so precious and daunting as this.
Part of him didn't think it would ever come to this. Yes, he can be cold and aloof but Simon thought she knew that he loved her through it all. No matter what.
When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?
Fuck if that doesn't tear through his chest more painfully than any caliber bullet ever could.
He takes her in quietly for a moment.
The woman he fell in love with. The person that gave him a reason to keep going, a motive to feel anything other than the cold efficientness of loading a gun and firing. Soft touches and warm smiles, something so at odds with the rough life he's used to.
Sitting there in front of him, she looks more beautiful than he remembers, and it only proves to make his stomach sink like a stone at the notion of seeding any doubt about his feelings in her heart.
A right fucking bastard he was for it.
"I'm sorry." He breathes out, much softer than the gruff voice he's been using with her. "I'll do better. Just give me a chance, yeah?"
For one horrible moment, Simon thinks she'll decline. That she'll slide over the papers again and demand he sign them.
But she considers his words for a moment before nodding once.
And it's all he needs.
A fighting chance.
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Part 2
(11/10/2023)
4K notes · View notes
kaciidubs · 1 month
Text
Pearl Necklace
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❣ Summary: In which Chris gives you a personally made pearl necklace. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 1.2k ❣ Warnings: Smut, no plot, blowjob, cum play ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Baby, Channie, Lover Boy, Reader is referred to as Baby, Pretty, Princess, unedited, ive been so busy with life and stuck in a writing rut so please take this as an unnecessary apology ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist
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“Baby…” 
Your dramatic drawl came with the equally dramatic act of draping yourself over Chris’s body, effectively gaining his attention from whatever video he was watching on his phone as he happily welcomed your weight sinking him further into the couch. 
“Can I ask you something?”
He laughed, tilting his head, “I’d be surprised if you did all that with the intention of not trying to get my attention - what’s up, baby?”
“Can you give me a pearl necklace?”
The twinkle in your eyes did nothing to explain away your sudden request - you weren’t the type to usually wear accessories as it was already, so the desire for a pearl necklace out of any other form of jewelry had him raising an eyebrow.
“Pearls? Like, pearl beads? I mean…” Glancing at his phone, he swiped at the screen to pull up Google, “We can look up some places that sell them if you really want it, I think I can find a few stores that-”
Your hand swiftly slipped his phone from his hold before locking it and stashing it near the couch pillow underneath his head, dismissing his growing confusion with a charming smile.
“Actually, I was thinking that we could make it together.”
“Oh?” 
Do-it-yourself, of course - he loved when you had little projects you wanted to include him in, even if the outcome sometimes didn’t go to plan, it was the quality time that mattered the most.
“Sure, I’m down for that,” he sat up while you rose to sit in his lap properly, his hands resting on your bare thighs, “did you buy the stuff already? Do we need to go shopping?”
You shook your head, pink tongue peeking out to wet your lips, “Nope, everything we’d need is right here.”
A devilish swivel of your hips, loose pajama shorts almost becoming an invisible barrier against his worn basketball shorts, and his confusion spiked up once again.
“Pretty, what- Wait a second-” Hands gripping the width of your hips, he tried to will away the near instant reaction his body always had when it came to you, “What’s going on? I thought you wanted to make a necklace-”
“I do.”
Normally, your nod of agreement would’ve been enough to clear the air, but when you pulled your oversized t-shirt up and off of your body, the layers only deepened.
“So why are you taking off your clothes? Not- Not that I’m complaining, I just…” His train of thought began to trail off with the drifting of his eyes down your neck, following the contours of your collarbones to the swells of your chest he’d been acquainted with time and time again. “Are we actually making a necklace here or…?”
“We are,” leaning forward, you placed a featherlight kiss to his pouty lips, “we just need to do a few extra steps first.”
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Chris designed a few pieces of jewelry in his lifetime, and though he wouldn’t say he’s an expert when it came to the actual crafting of the pieces, he’d be inclined to assume that the process of making a necklace didn’t involve his girlfriend on her knees, giving him the best head of his life - granted, he always considered everything she did for him as the best in his life, but his point still stood.
“Fuck… Just like that, baby- Oh, god-” His head fell against the back of the couch, a shiver running down his spine when he felt the tip press against the back of your throat again. “‘S so good, baby - you’re so fucking good, pretty girl.”
You hummed around his length, hollowing your cheeks as you slowly pulled off of him with a wet pop - lips glistening in a mixture of saliva and precum that put any form of lipgloss to shame.
“Just ‘good’, Channie?” Voice laced with teasing allure, you held the base of his cock as you laved your tongue along one of his balls, sucking at the skin and smirking at the kick of his leg in response.
He choked on a moan, one hand gripping the edge of the couch cushion while the other ran through his hair “Baby, please - I can’t- fuck- can’t really think while you’re doing this!”
Giving his other ball the similar treatment, you littered open mouthed kisses along the underside of his cock, “Mm… Can you look at me then, lover boy?”
To be honest, he wasn’t even sure when he had closed his eyes to begin with, but lifting his head and directing his full attention to you made him realize why keeping them closed was working in his favor.
Hypnotizing sultry gaze behind lidded eyes, your lips resting perfectly against his shaft as your hand gripped the base of his dick with practiced perfection - if he even dared to look any further then he’d see the utterly filthy line of saliva coating your chin, or the way your free hand was making itself busy between your legs.
The twitch of his dick was all you needed to feel to know that you had him right where you wanted him, a satisfied smile curving the corners of your lips as you pumped your fist.
“Ready to make that necklace for me?”
His breath hitched, lips parting to let out a shivering moan as he frantically nodded, “Y-Yeah- Shit, yeah - gonna make you look so pretty, princess.”
Your eyes sparkled, a giddy expression almost overtaking the utter lust exuding from you as you doubled your efforts with your hand - the wet, slick sound floating through the air while you jerked him off.
Chris fought the roll of his eyes as he focused on your goal-driven face, bucking into the drag of your palm as if he were truly fucking you, until the pressure in his abdomen became too much to bear.
“I’m gonna come, baby- Oh, god, yes- Y-Yeah, yeah-” His hand flew from the couch and wrapped around your own, angling his dick toward your chest with panted breaths, “I-I’m coming - I’m coming, f-fuck-”
The first splatter of cum landed directly on your neck, dripping its way toward your clavicle and between your breasts. Tilting your head back just a bit, you felt the warmth of his cum land around the curve of your neck, painting a shaky line of white against your skin with each shivering pass of your combined hands.
He let out a strained grunt as the last few drops dotted your cleavage, using your hand to thoroughly milk himself of the final remains before effectively melting into the couch with a worn sigh.
“So…” Giggling, you dropped your chin to get a better look at your exhausted boyfriend, “How do I look?”
Looking down, he noted the way his release seemed to follow the downward curve before either spilling down your collarbones or further filling out the line down your clavicle, adding a sort of teardrop design to your necklace.
“Honestly?” A breathless giggle escaped him as he reached his non-soiled hand out toward his phone, “How about I take a picture to show you, then we can work on adding some accessories to go with it.”
Safe to say, this wouldn’t be the last pearl necklace you’d receive from him.
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1K notes · View notes
paperultra · 8 months
Text
back of house.
Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1,113 words Warnings: Mild swearing
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If it weren’t for his principles regarding women, you’re fairly certain Sanji would’ve throttled and strung you up to dry by now.
“I … I’m impressed, sweetheart,” he says with a bright smile, though under the swinging lights of the kitchen it seems more out of pain than pleasure. “You managed to burn water.”
Your cheeks flame as you peer into the blackened pot with him, all traces of the water you’d been tasked with boiling completely gone. Vanished. You have no idea how or why.
“I’m sorry, Sanji.”
“No need to apologize. Everybody makes mistakes –”
“Sanji!” you hear Zeff before you see him round the corner. “Why the hell do I smell something burning in my kitchen?”
“None of your business, old man,” Sanji snaps immediately, murmuring a quiet excuse me, dear to you before taking the pot by the handle and heading to the sink. He twists the faucet open and running water roars like thunder in your ears as he thrusts the pot underneath. “I have it under control.”
“Under control, eh?" Zeff says. He suddenly turns his squinted gaze upon you, and you shrivel. “This your doing, missy?”
“I –”
“Leave her alone,” Sanji interrupts. “I didn’t give clear enough instructions. It was my fault.”
“Oh, there’s no doubt about that.” Eyeing your guilty and defeated figure next to the stove, Zeff shakes his head with a sigh and points you to the door. “[Y/n], go out and wait tables for the rest of your shift.”
Immediately, you make a move to remove your apron. “Oka –”
Sanji makes a noise of dissent and turns the faucet off. “Wait tables? She can still chop the vegetables and help me plate.”
“You’ll do that yourself. Front of house needs the extra person, anyway.”
“I’m her mentor.”
“And I’m the damn boss.”
The rest of the staff roll their eyes and carry on while the two men argue in the middle of the kitchen. You swallow and take your apron off, balling it up in your hands. This isn’t the first time they’ve butted heads over your incompetence, and watching them now cuts at your last shred of dignity.
Clearing your throat, you grimace when Sanji’s head whips around to look at you.
“Zeff’s right,” you tell him. “Dinner rush is coming up soon and I’ll just be in the way, anyway.”
Zeff grunts with satisfaction.
The expression on Sanji’s face reminds you of a kicked puppy. “But …” he begins to protest.
“Oi, you heard what she said. Get back to work! We have customers waiting!”
Sanji blusters about before heading back to his station, casting you one final, forlorn look as he does so. You imagine that your own face looks just the same when you turn to leave.
You take orders and serve customers for the remainder of the day, as promised, and help with cleanup after closing time. And then, long after the sun’s dipped below the horizon, Sanji joins you on the upper deck with a steaming bowl of seafood fried rice.
“For the madam,” he says with a smile, offering you the bowl.
You accept it silently and take a bite as he sits down next to you. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach. You’ve never known a home quite like Sanji’s cooking.
His eyes remain fixed on you as you eat all of the rice, scraping the bowl for every last grain and setting it down beside you once you’re finished.
“Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. I figured it would cheer you up.”
“It did.”
It did, and yet, your lips tremble and your throat closes up. You clench your hands into fists in your lap.
Sanji’s hand immediately presses your shoulder as you sniffle. “Are you alright?” he questions worriedly.
(His attentiveness strikes you like a hot iron sometimes, even now.)
“Why haven’t you given up on me yet?” you whisper.
His brow furrows. As if it’s obvious, he answers, “You want to be a cook. A lady’s wish is my command.” Sanji pauses. “And I can’t call myself the greatest cook in the East Blue if I can’t teach others to be great cooks as well.”
“I think you’d be the greatest regardless.”
You glance at him through watery eyes in time to see his face flush a deep red. He looks away hastily, chuckling with feigned modesty. “I’m flattered that you think so highly of me.”
Your shoulders lift in a shrug as you look back down at your hands. You reach up to blot away your tears.
How could you not think the world of Sanji? Or the world of anyone at the Baratie, for that matter? When you were kicked off the merchant ship you’d stowed away on two years ago, you had been sure that you’d be banned from setting foot in such a fine-looking restaurant. Years of scorn and slammed doors had not given you the chance to think otherwise.
But Sanji spotted you on the docks, called you madam like you really were one, cooked you a meal in the kitchen and talked to you. Zeff gave you a job and a bed of your own. The staff gave you a family.
“We’ll try again tomorrow. I’ll figure out something that’ll make everything click for you, and you’ll be a proper cook in no time.” Sanji leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and winks up at you. “I promise.”
As always, your heart skips a beat.
“Okay.”
Maybe, you realize suddenly, you don’t necessarily want to be a cook so much as you want to love the way Sanji does.
“That’s my girl.” Standing up, Sanji takes your empty bowl in one hand and offers the other for you to take. “Now, shall I walk the madam to her room, or does she wish to stay out on the deck for a while?”
You allow yourself to grin, considering. “The madam wishes to stay out here and …” you hesitate but then decide to soldier on, “and possibly chat with a dear friend for a few more minutes?”
Your pulse pounds in your ears.
Sanji’s eyes widen a bit. Then he blinks, and then he smiles, drawing his hand back and quickly sitting down next to you once more.
“A lady’s wish is my command,” he says.
He takes out a cigarette, making a quip about Patty while he lights it, and your combined laughter rings out across the Baratie. It’s perfect like it always is – savory and warm on your tongue, happy and gentle in your stomach.
Indeed, this is home.
4K notes · View notes
delirious-donna · 1 month
Text
The Temporary Assistant [Higuruma Hiromi]
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an: I’ve been obsessed with the exhausted lawyer for some time now, but this is the first time I’ve written a fic for him… please be kind cause I baby.
pairing: Higuruma Hiromi x female reader
warnings: NSFW, pwp, established relationship, reader is assumed to be a little bit on the booby side, pseudo boss/subordinate dynamic, spit as lube (don’t do this folks), Higuruma is a breasts man, nipple play, little prep, cumshot
Masterlist
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“She quit. What do you mean, she quit?”
Higuruma massaged his tired eyes in steady circles, huffing out a laugh at your exasperated questioning and the equally perplexed look on your face.
“Darling, I don’t know how else to phrase it other than the young lady no longer works for me,” he offered with fatigue lacing his tone. It was late, and he didn’t want to be having this conversation for the third time today. The first had been with his partner at the law firm they jointly owned, and the second with the agency supervisor his previously employed assistant worked for.
Nanami hadn’t been surprised at the news, a fact that bothered Hiromi more than he cared to admit. His partner was not one for pulling his punches, so Hiromi was accustomed to his sometimes blunt manner of speaking, but it still hurt to think that Kento had seen something coming that he had been blindsided by.
“I’m only surprised she lasted this long.” Those were his parting words as Hiromi stalked dejectedly back to his office at Nanami’s insistence that his assistant would be far too busy to spread her attention to them both. Not words he’d been happy to hear.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mr Higuruma. That’s not like her, but I’m afraid it’ll be at least two weeks until I can provide a replacement.” The agency supervisor sounded genuinely shocked at the sudden resignation, and his day simply went from bad to worse.
Hiromi flopped onto the couch, his head lolling back with his eyes sliding shut from the weight of his fatigue. It had been mounting all day, and now that he was home, where he should be finding solace in the comfort of his surroundings and his loving wife’s embrace, he was hit suddenly with a fresh reminder of the shit he’d landed in.
A soft hand caressed the side of his neck, inducing a shiver of relief. It was followed by the weight of your body settling over his spread thighs, your head resting against his shoulder. His suit jacket still hung from his lithe frame, the button undone and the shirt beneath badly wrinkled from the long commute home, but you didn’t care about his untidiness. 
He felt every quiet exhale fan his throat, the ghost of a smile finding its way to his face despite it all. Your nimble fingers burrowed into the knot of his tie, loosening it until you could pull it free and toss it away. “What are you going to do, Hiromi? I know you have that court date coming up… it’s a busy time. How about Nanami’s assistant?”
“Not an option. I already tried,” he muttered with a shrug. 
Opening his eyes, he peered down at you tucked into the crook of his neck, a hand inside the collar of his shirt and your nails grazing gentle patterns over his collarbone. He chewed his lip, fearful to broach the idea planted by his partner when his foot was almost out the door. “You could always ask your wife…”
Selfishly, he indulged himself in your affections, your scent that permeated every corner of the home you shared and let his fingers, stiff from the cold, warm against your feminine curves. You might not be so keen to indulge him once he suggested you work as his temporary assistant, so he would take what he could until push came to shove.
“Your fingers are icy, Hiro. Come here,” you chided with a click of the tongue, though he knew it was only born of concern for his health. Hiromi hummed happily, grateful when you pressed his palms together with yours on either side and blew hot air to dispel the chill.
“What would I do without you?” He whispered, sitting upright and nudging your nose with his when you glanced at him. Hiromi’s eyes drooped, heat dusted his cheeks at the proximity, and when you let out an airy giggle… he swore he swooned all over again. Just as he had when he first met you and fell in love.
He doubted he would be in the position he was today had it not been for you. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he would be here at all if he hadn’t met you when he did, but that was a story for another day.
You admired the side profile of your husband, eyes low and hazy with appreciation of his strong jaw and prominent nose that hooked just so at the end. “Good thing you’ll never have to know.”
Hiromi groaned aloud, burying his face between the soft skin of your décolleté. His cool lips skimmed the tops of your breasts, first on one side then turning to the other, making you shudder and hum. Your fingers threaded through his black hair, tugging firmly at the roots just how he liked, and his hips jerked in response.
A great fuck and a good night’s sleep would fix him, you were certain of it. It wouldn’t resolve his work issue, but Hiromi worked better with a clear mind, and you knew it was murky as bog water right now. Your man was a brilliant lawyer, dedicated to working towards a more just legal system for those normally underrepresented along with his partner, but he was a terrible workaholic.
You couldn’t count the nights he traipsed home from the office at an ungodly hour only to drag his tired body into his home office to continue where he left off. Only coming to bed when you physically dragged him away from his keyboard and desk with threats of pain and not the kind he typically enjoyed.
It couldn’t be easy to be his assistant, though you knew damn well that he was a good man. The poor girl probably had enough of the endless expectations and incessantly long hours which were necessary to get through all of his demands because he refused to finish at five like normal people. On the few occasions you’d stopped by his office, you could see the fraught expression written all over her young face and how her eyes pleaded with you to distract her boss enough so she could catch up with the mountain of requests waiting for her attention. Poor girl…
Ready to go to town on your poor overworked and stressed husband, you rocked your pelvis against the seam of his zipper, pushing his head further into your chest whilst his cock twitched and hardened beneath you. Hiromi practically purred, the sound muffled and vibrated right down into your soul. The possibilities were endless, and you were considering if you should slide to the floor and bathe his cock in your spit or ride him until all that wicked tension left his body when he suddenly paused.
His hands moved to your waist, the pressure firmer than expected and he gently slid you back along his knees so you were no longer planted over his poorly concealed erection. The flicker of guilt burnt in his whisky-smoked eyes, and it soured your smile. Hiromi shook his head and exhaled deeply, his eyes flitting away from yours.
“I can’t do this,” he muttered.
“You… can’t fuck your wife?” Your voice broke into a laugh that had nothing to do with amusement and everything to do with the bitter twist of uncertainty in your stomach. “Since when?”
“Don’t say that. I want to, but I need to ask you something first.” Hiromi cupped your face in his hands, leaning in to press what he hoped were reassuring kisses to your forehead, cheeks and lips. “Then you can decide if you still wanna… y’know.”
Your eyes narrowed, suspicion forming like a snake ready to strike, and your arms folded tightly across your chest. He swallowed nervously, struggling not to ogle your beautiful breasts that he would be fully buried in by now and likely suckling on had it not been for his damned conscience. 
“Spit it out, Higuruma.”
Oh, he was in trouble.
Hiromi cleared his throat and fixed you with a beseeching look. “Will you be my assistant?” He rushed on when you visibly bristled. “It’s only for two weeks until the agency can find me a replacement and, and… it was Kento’s idea!”
“Throwing Kento under the bus isn’t going to save your hide, Mr Higuruma!” You slid sideways onto the couch, ignoring the groan of disappointment from beside you. “You know very well I am in the midst of my PhD. How could you think it would be feasible for me to come work in your office as an errand girl for a fortnight?”
“Well… I have a plan,” he said, both pointer fingers coming together as he continued to give you the best impression of those adorable dogs with the droopy eyes.
When he didn’t elaborate immediately, your eyebrows rose and you nudged his knee with yours. 
“R-right. I know you’ve been writing your paper here at home. So, I thought that maybe I could also work from home. You could help me out and continue your work in between the things I need.”
Dammit, that wasn’t quite the terrible idea you had initially anticipated. You eyed your husband from head to toe, and he desperately tugged at your folded arms until he could take your hands into his. He kissed across your knuckles, nuzzling his cheek, rough from a faint five o’clock shadow, into the back of your hands.
“Hiromi…” you warned, but he was almost too overjoyed to hear his given name once more to heed the warning in your voice.
“Two weeks. That’s all. And I promise not to ask for too much, only the absolute necessities that I can’t manage myself. Please?”
How could you deny him when he asked so sweetly and especially when you knew just how under the cosh he was with his upcoming trial? It would only interfere with your deadlines if he didn’t uphold his promises, but you chose to believe that he would. After all, Hiromi was rather keen on keeping his balls attached to his body.
“Fine, but you owe me.”
~
The first week went by without incident. It was an adjustment, to say the least, but once you found your feet and Hiromi got used to not having to leave at the arse crack of dawn, it was rather lovely to see more of your handsome husband.
Being able to sit down at the small kitchen table to eat lunch together was a daily treat, and it filled you with triumph when he would eagerly seek you out in the kitchen with his nose sniffing out whatever delicious treat you had prepared that day. Ensuring Hiromi ate during the working day was, more often than not, a struggle, with several text messages bouncing back and forth until he acquiesced–but not now.
Maybe it was the lure of stolen kisses or the giggles shared when you called him Mr Higuruma, breathlessly pressing your body into his and squealing playfully when he pawed at your backside in turn.
You’d be lying if you weren’t enjoying the pseudo roleplay of boss and subordinate. Playing pretend with a power balance that didn’t translate to your relationship outside this current scenario. There was no top or bottom, no dominant or submissive, just two people enraptured by each other. Sometimes you led, and other times he did. Your marriage was well-balanced, and you loved that about Hiromi. He wasn’t threatened by a woman that initiated, in fact, he loved it—loved you. So this new experience, where he was large and in charge at all times, was certainly thrilling, but not everything was smooth sailing. 
Hiromi was demanding, to say the least. When he was engrossed in a specific piece of work, he had a way of speaking that made you want to smack him round the head with one of his many manila folders, preferably one of the thicker ones.
No wonder his assistant had quit if he regularly spoke to her in the clipped manner you had heard on more than several occasions now. Only your intimate knowledge of the man kept your tongue in your head and your hand away from the folders. Niceties were time-consuming when he was against the clock. He didn’t mean to be cold, and you told yourself this over and over, but it still hurt, just a little.
Higuruma could get used to this. 
He idly wondered how he would feasibly make the transition back to office working once this temporary fix came to an end. He didn’t miss his morning commutes, the packed trains that felt like being crammed into sardine tins, nor the chill of the office before the heating had a chance to warm the rooms sufficiently. 
It was a treat to be able to roll out of bed and right into his desk chair. If he wanted to start at 6am, he could, though you would chastise him thoroughly if he dared to. He knew you liked your morning snuggles, and so did he. Waking slowly to your soft snores which he liked to call purrs, and soaking in the smell of your sleep-soaked skin whilst his hands roamed every inch of your softness he could reach. It made it easier to escape the clutches of sleep, knowing you were waiting for him.
However, the star attraction of the current situation was you. Never had he cast an appreciative eye over one of his assistants, not even before he met you, but you were his wife, and he couldn’t help but gawk at his sheer dumb luck. There was something altogether forbidden about the fantasies in his head which, of course, made them all the more alluring.
The first few days at home he had stayed in comfortable clothing, favouring the sweats he’d wear around the house on the weekends and his old college sweater, but quickly, he realised that this didn’t work for him. He needed the structure of his routine even if he wasn’t venturing past his front door, so the suits returned—starched collars and a black tie at his throat. As if to match his energy, you started to dress formally too, and what a treat that was.
Pencil skirts that he didn’t think he’d ever seen, blouses that nipped in your waist, pinafore dresses that swished around your thighs and most decadent of all–lace-topped stockings. 
You were driving him to distraction, and the worst of it was that he was certain you didn’t realise. It made him sound shorter than he liked, his words coming out clipped, and his pleasantries sounded cursory rather than heartfelt. You were doing your best to accommodate his needs whilst still working on your paper, and here he was, wishing to bend you over his desk to run his nose and mouth over your squidgy thighs, the meat of your backside and the seat of your underwear until it soaked through with his saliva.
By the time the second week rolled around, Higuruma was a volcano, ready and raring to erupt at the slightest breeze or incident. The lunchtime kisses were no longer satiating his desires, nor were the evenings spent worshipping at the altar of your puffy, spit-covered pussy. It wasn’t enough to scratch this very specific itch.
“I’ve made the copies you asked for, Hiromi. I’ve also updated your calendar with the pre-agenda meeting that came through from the opposing side. Was there anything else for now?”
Hiromi audibly moaned when your wrist grazed his fingers, setting down the documents in question and lingering by his side, waiting for an answer. He tugged sharply at the knot of his tie, feeling choked for air—starved of logic. 
As he glanced up at you, he paused. Your bottom lip was held fast between your teeth, eyes positively alight with playful mischief. So maybe you were more aware of the thick-as-sticky treacle tension than he gave you credit for. He fixed the cuffs of his shirt in an attempt to mask the shake of his hands, setting his pen down before leaning back in his chair. It creaked in protest, and you raised a hand to stifle a laugh. 
“Actually, there is something else, and it cannot be put off a moment longer,” he drawled with a tone that suggested he was going to dictate a letter or something equally menial. 
You were not expecting him to spin his chair towards you and yank you down by the arm into his lap. The shriek that left you was genuine, only silenced towards the end by the firm melding of warm, insistent lips. His hands were everywhere and all at once; squeezing the tops of your arms, ripping at the buttons that hid your cleavage from him and skimming beneath the tight hold of your skirt until it rucked around your hips.
There was such urgency to his movements that you struggled to catch up, but finally, you broke apart from his mouth, saliva strands webbing and breaking apart as your tongue passed through them and across your swollen lips. “Mr Higuruma! What would your wife say?” 
It was meant as a spicy joke, a nod to the little games that had been at play and the dynamic the two of you had fallen into, but you sensed immediately that it didn’t go over well. He stopped fumbling with the buttons of your blouse, half of them free from their holes and the lace of your bra now prominently on show, breasts firmly squeezed together given the constraints of the material.
“I-I would… never. I mean…” You watched the desire in his eyes shift to panic, and you shushed him with a finger over his lips. Your heart ricocheted in your chest at the sincerity, and if you believed you couldn’t love him any more than you already did, it proved untrue when you witnessed the devotion that shone in those whisky-coloured eyes.
“I know. It’s okay,” you murmured, closing the distance and trailing your lips over his jaw and up to his ear. “I like it… keep going, please?”
Oh gods, how could he have ever deserved a woman like you in his life? Hiromi whimpered, his eyebrows pinched together, and he felt that final strand of restraint snap clean in two. His lip trembled for a second before he was on you again. Hungry kisses pathed down your throat, a hand at the back of your head to keep you close and manoeuvre you exactly as he wanted.
You scrabbled at his tie, pulling it free with a whip crack until you could toss it behind you and return your focus to his shirt so you could scratch at his chest and leave red welts across his skin.
“No.” The frantic lawyer shook his head, pressing his fingertips over the fresh mark he’d sucked into your neck simply to watch you whine from the pressure of the blooming bruise. “Belt, now.”
Jumping at the ragged command that rasped from Hiromi’s throat, you complied without teasing or complaint. Working the tail of his leather belt through the buckle and sighed at the clatter of the metal when it rattled free to join his tie somewhere unseen in the room.
“Fuck… take it out, please.”
He didn’t wait for you to say anything, nor did he wait for you to pop his top button or lower his zip. He was too focused on freeing your bountiful tits and taking them into his mouth. Your eyes raised to the heavens when his hot needy tongue licked around your nipple, the lace cups shoved down to push your breast up and into his face. 
For long moments, you only watched as he laved you with his spit, lips drawn around your pert buds to elicit that deep-seated squirm of pleasure that echoed between your thighs. Hiromi lifted his gaze to your face, making sure you watched as he sandwiched your breast together with his broad palms so he could suckle both nipples at once. Your jaw slackened, your stomach sucked in, and your hips undulated atop his thighs.
It invigorated the tightness of your hold on his cock, drawing it out of his briefs followed by his heavy balls to stroke him hard and fast. He could take it, you knew that, his purpled cockhead sticky from precum that painted your fingers and palm. You paused with his foreskin pulled back, fingers ringing his base to use your other hand to tickle the seam of his balls. He jerked up with a muffled grunt, a resounding pop echoing in the study when his lips pulled free of your breasts.
“Need you, Sir. Please, want this,” you paused to squeeze his shaft in emphasis, “Inside me.”
“Little fucking temptress, you know that? Should’ve bent you over this desk days ago…” He growled against your collarbone, marking it with his teeth.
Higuruma stood abruptly. You squealed and anchored an arm around his neck, refusing to give up your possessive grab of his throbbing dick. He turned and shoved the back of his chair flush against the edge of his desk to stabilise it before dropping you into the leather seat and folding your legs back to your chest. 
His rough fingers pinched into the fat of your thighs, fiddling with the sticky bands of your lace stockings and damn near ripped them. You would have complained had it not been for the raw emotions written all over Hiromi’s face, his eyes fixed on the seat of your underwear and the obvious stain that was caused by his ministrations.
Bending his knees to drop closer to you, he savoured your mouth with his tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to curl over your teeth. He filled his hands with the fat of your ass, pulling the cheeks apart and massaging the roundness with little gentleness. It was all you could do to moan, the sounds swallowed greedily only to be replaced by a pleading keen when he tugged your underwear away from your cunt. The fabric bunched around your knees, and you assumed he’d move back to remove them fully, but he didn’t. Instead, he twisted the material until it was tight around the bend of your knees, pinning you in place. 
His long slender fingers stroked your pretty slit, coming away with remnants of your arousal and using it to mix with his precum that continued to weep onto your hand. Hiromi’s head sagged forward, black hair falling into his eyes as a long string of saliva fell from what he’d gathered behind his teeth to your sensitive clit. He smeared it around the bundle of nerves, scissoring his fingers until he could tug it feverishly.
“Hiro… fuck me already. Goddammit, I’m gonna blow,” you whined, painfully aware that you were dangling by a thread.
You helped him lead his cock to your entrance, tapping it against your folds to see the tendons in his neck strain and giving you some semblance of smug satisfaction. When he finally notched where you needed him most, your breathing was coming so rapidly you faintly worried you might pass out from this. The air was so thick you struggled to inhale, drowning in this faux forbidden tryst.
He groaned, long and low. His nose nudged into your warm cheek as he bent even lower and pushed into your velvet heat. “That’s it. This pretty pussy is sucking me in—fuck—oh, you like that?” He teased, his hips drawing back only to plunge in again, and deeper this time when he felt you clench around him.
You gripped his forearms, head lolling against the headrest when his cock reached your depths, and the coarse midnight patch of hairs at his pelvis rubbed delicious friction into your pert little pearl. 
“Mhm… mhm. Keep going. Don’t stop.”
Higuruma could have laughed at the absurdity of your words. What made you think he could stop even if he wanted to? You were hugging him too perfectly, pulling him back in each time he withdrew his hips. The rhythmic pap of his full-to-bursting balls against the split of your ass rocketed him closer and closer to the finish point, enough so that he fisted the base of his dick to stave off his looming orgasm. He wasn’t ready for this to end, but that didn’t mean he was going to stop either.
The tails of his shirt escaped his trousers and obscured the view of his cock disappearing into your warm cunt, and he growled in frustration. You were so close to the precipice of your orgasm that you didn’t realise why he was growling, only moaning at the primal noise and clenching down hard enough that Hiromi’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Releasing his hold on your thighs, he grinned wolfishly at the imprints of his fingertips on the backs of your legs. With his heart pounding rapidly, he ripped his shirt up his torso and gripped the material between his teeth. His cock sawed in and out at a pace that was losing its rhythm at an alarming rate. 
He’d never looked like this before, crazed with desire and burning heat covering the apples of his cheeks. The whisky smoke in his eyes was barely visible due to how blown out his pupils were, and you lifted a hand to caress his cheek. His eyes cut to you, hips rotating whilst buried against your cervix, and with a sharp nod, he asked you to cum for him. His thumb sought out your clit, working it from side to side whilst his balls drew painfully tight and the first lick of molten heat dripped at the base of his spine.
Your eyes rolled over, limbs going lax and pliant pinned between the chair and his body. Your toes curled within your stockings, thighs trembling and butterflying open onto the arms of the chair. Hiromi rode out your high, slowing himself just so, but he couldn’t hold back for too long.
With a willpower that shocked him, he pulled out at the last moment and pumped himself until thick viscous spurts of cum shot across your exposed breasts and stained the blouse covering your stomach. He convulsed so intensely his knees nearly buckled, long drawn-out whimpers ripping from his throat, and you watched it all through hooded, blissed-out eyes. 
Hiromi sagged forward, his forehead pressed against yours as he fought to catch his breath. His cock twitched as it softened, the sensation worsened by your toying little fingers exploring his sensitive skin and rubbing the mixture of his and your arousal into his pelvis and across his balls. He didn’t know what to say. The fantasy lived out was so much more than his imagination could conjure, but he still felt a little vulnerable now it was over.
He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and licked over his parched lips. Words caught in his throat, but they were cut off by the trill of his phone on the desk as it vibrated across the wood. You handed it to him with a shy smile, and he answered it after smoothing back his hair.
“Mr Higuruma?”
“S-speaking,” he answered, clearing his throat urgently.
“I’m calling from Clerical Angels. Unfortunately, I have bad news. It is going to be another week before a new assistant can start. I’m sorry for the delay, I know it must be an inconvenience…”
Your eyes widened at the conversation you could hear as clear as day, meeting his steady gaze with cheeks that burned with a combination of mild embarrassment and intrigue. One more week.
“Not at all. I think I can cope, my wife is happy to bend over backwards for me.”
Oh, Hiromi would pay for that comment… but not for at least another week.
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toruslvt · 1 month
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regarding bff gojo, (sorry if this is insane) but can i request a bff gojo x fem!reader x random girl where they have a 3sum but gojo eventually just ends up paying attention to reader bcs he’s IN LOVE W HER ??!
⋆ mdni. bff gojo satoru. basically all things that happen in a threesome: Satoru, you and the girl make out w eachother, fingering, creampie ( to reader ). AAA NOT INSANE AT ALL I GOT BUTTERFLIES READING YOUR ASK 🫶.
 ⋆ tried this w a different writing style aaa idk how to feel. anyways... let me know what u think.
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sometimes you wondered what Satoru’s hidden skill was, to make you fall so easily into his schemes. was the puppy eyes he gave you, adding how he wanted to spend more time with his adorable best friend? following the logic that Satoru even texted you from the toilet, separation anxiety perhaps. he was blunt and direct, that’s a fact, but you did not expect for your him to suggest a threesome all of a sudden, sure, you had sex once but you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that Satoru was already planning a second time.
the girl sitting in his bed is quite pretty, and oddly similar to you, with the same hair, skin tone and body shape, it was kind of scary at first, but you brushed it off considering it was a mere coincidence. yet Satoru looks utterly excited, almost bouncing off the walls as his eyes trail from you to her, and again until someone speaks.
“come here” he gruffs, your best friend’s voice is already husky and deep with desire, tapping his thighs in a silent invitation for you to join as where his hands caress the other girl’s sides, he’s cupping her breasts but his eyes remain on you, “you’re gorgeous” it’s a whispered word that Satoru speaks with his gaze still locked in yours, swiftly shifting to her eyes as to make her feel as if the compliment was for the both of you, Satoru knows it wasn’t.
and he tries, of course he tries to give you the same eagerness, but you look so fucking sexy perched on his lap, helping him get the other girl’s shirt off and he wishes it was your hands on him instead.
“Satoru” you breathe out his name, —a slight warning for him not to let the girl out after he spent the last minutes making out with you—, and he looks at you like you’re water in a desert, lips red and puffy from the intense kissing. with a brief nod he turns to her, pressing kisses on her chest and up her throat, licking on the skin before hesitantly kissing her lips, from your position on your sides, you could see Satoru’s eyes open, slightly turning sideways to look at you again.
you chuckle softly, finding his behavior slightly adorable, like a puppy looking for approval. carefully you approach him, deciding to press kisses on his neck at the same time Satoru groans and the girl whines, his eyes fluttering close at the intoxicating sensation of your lips, making him messily stain the front of his boxers with precum.
a couple of minutes pass until you’re all naked, Satoru having placed you next to her as you gently kiss, and in any other situation, he could have found the sight incredibly hot, but he can’t ignore the pang of jealousy in his chest. why aren’t you kissing him?
“you taste so good” the girl smirks looking at you, and Satoru’s brow twitches, she licks her lips seductively, almost fully ignoring the man’s presence currently kneeling between your bodies.
“you too” you speak with your face burning, and your best friend can’t take it anymore, leaning down to kiss you himself, almost fucking your mouth with his tongue; from behind the messy sound of your lips clashing you hear a whimper, looking from the corner of your eyes how she touched herself at the sight, biting her lip for a fleeting second before Satoru is tilting your jaw roughly, forcing you to focus in him.
Satoru’s hand is quick to find her dripping cunt, plunging a finger that quickly turns into two to keep her busy, moaning as if it’s the best thing that has ever happened to her, all to make you spread your pretty thighs and allow the dripping head of his cock to press against your pussy, if he kept on just kissing you, he would have cum all over your belly.
“so good, baby” he groans, eyes darkened and dilated pupils looking down at you as his cock stretches you out, you could see the way his breath hitched in his throat with each inch engulfed in your warm cunt; it’s a mess of lewd noises, from the girl’s moaning to your whines and Satoru’s grunts as he fucked you both, occasionally she raises up, attempting to caress his naked body towering over yours, but your best friend only slides his fingers deeper and harder inside her pussy, making her whine and lean down on the bed again, giving him enough space to suck on your tongue and swallow your moans that are only meant for him.
you can’t help and feel dizzy at the way Satoru looks and fucks at you, grinding his hips down so perfectly you’re sobbing in pleasure, and, for a moment, you’re left speechless when he forces your knees up his shoulders, fucking you so deep you couldn’t help and cry out, digging your nails on his back. that’s all Satoru needs.
a whimper of protest is heard, you are trying to raise your head but he’s quicker, cleaning his hand off her slick in the sheets before using both thumbs to press down your forehead, keeping you pinned as his body engulfed you fully, forcing you in a mating press with his mouth tasting your screams and your pussy swallowing the whole girth of him down the base, messily creating a sound where his hips roughly smacked against your ass.
you wondered if he always fucked like that, but the stimulation on your clit rubbing on his pelvis, g-spot tortured by the fat tip of his cock and nipples continuously rubbing against his hard chest made you forget about the rest.
“fuck, sweetheart” Satoru lets out a broken moan, half surprised half as if he was in pain at the sight of your almost rolled back eyes, mouth hanging open in desperate cries at the same time your pussy fluttered wildly. “you’ll make me cum so hard, this pussy was made just for me” he groans, not stopping his thrusts even if you gasp and cream his cock, he’s almost drunk, his own eyes threatening to roll back at the flutter of your cunt, begging for his cum.
a few more thrusts and he’s cumming deep into your pussy, with a sharp groan that makes you shudder. “’Toru... where is...?” you attempt to ask, but Satoru couldn’t care less, leaning down to kiss you without replying, but instead humping your pussy slightly, testing the waters if you’re ready for another orgasm.
“dunno” he swallows, uninterested, licking down the path of your throat and jaw until his nibbling on your collarbone, “can I fuck you again?” he begs, and there are the puppy eyes Satoru always gives you when he wants something, and how can you refuse when your best friend is so cute.
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zriasstuff · 2 months
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Slytherin boys x reader (kinky shit vol.1)
lowk embarrassed because this is from my shortlived unhinged wattpad era, but here you go (i didn’t want this to just rot away in my google docs drafts), vol.2 in case you’re interested
Warnings: overstimulation kink, sexual content, no plot, mdni, yk the drill, not proof read
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Mattheo Riddle:
He enjoys it so much when you continue to suck him after he just came down your throat. His tip is always hypersensitive, and he turns into a groaning and swearing mess when you swirl your tongue around it. Although he tries to control it, the occasional whimper slips through too. The feeling of pain and pleasure combined makes his swollen dick twitch in your mouth and come extremely quickly.
“Fuck princess, only you can make me feel like this”
Tom Riddle:
He will almost always tie you up, either to the headboard, or arms behind your back. After he comes inside you, he knows that you’re still sensitive.
Since he himself is too, he’ll shove three fingers in you and watch as you squirm and whimper from the overwhelming sensation. Your insides are barely able to handle the immediate penetration and start to feel like they’re twisting. He’ll either tell you to beg for release or for him to stop. “Use your words, doll”/“You’re such a fucking slut for me, you deserve whatever I do to you”/“Beg for it you desperate slut”
You always come a minimum of three times, and he will make sure that you can barely walk afterwards. The control that he has over you just turns him on all the more.
Theodore Nott:
After you finish, he’ll tell you to finger yourself and to come once more. He enjoys having the power over you and you being obedient. Of course you do what he wants, painfully so and during it, he’ll control your speed and the amount of fingers. “Good girl, doing whatever I tell her to”/“Such a good girl for me”/“Come on, I know you can do it”
You also love all the praise, so you always make sure to put on a show for him.
After the pleasurable torture you put yourself through, he always gives you sweet aftercare.
Blaise Zabini:
He especially loves it when you ride him. Normally he wants both of you to come at the same time, but sometimes he tells you to control yourself a little after he came already. Then, after he came, he’ll tell you to keep going at his own expense, and watches you as you use him for your own pleasure. Every time you clench around him a moan slips out as he goes completely insane from the overstimulation on his already exhausted cock. It makes him feel incredibly turned on, to be at your mercy and to be used. Yes princess, use me all you want”/“All this is yours”/“Fuck you look hot on top of me”
Enzo Berkshire:
Overstimulation is one of his biggest kinks, so any way, shape or form of it is always extremely welcome. You make sure to do it to the point where he is completely out of breath and can only whimper under your control. After doing it, you sometimes wrap your hand around him and jerk him to come once more. At that point he’s already a moaning mess and his dick is consistently red and leaking. “Please can I cum?”/“You make me feel so good”
Instead of your hand, you also use your mouth sometimes. You deepthroat him for maximum pleasure and you feel his hips bucking and begging for renewed release.
Draco Malfoy:
For him it involves a bit of temp play too, but after both of you finish he’ll get a few ice cubes to drag out your post-orgasm pleasure. He’ll slowly drag them along your hardened nipples, all the way to your clit, holding the cube in place there. The sudden change in temperature always brings out uncontrollably loud moans from you and makes you squirm around. As soon as you move too much, he’ll shove one cube inside you, which causes you to melt into a whimpering mess. “Bad girls need to be punished”/“You look so pathetic, barely being able to stay still”
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harrysonlylover · 3 months
Text
Instincts*
Summary: Harry’s primal instincts catch up with him.
Trope: Husbandrry (non famous)
Warnings: breeding kink, a hint of corruption kink, dirty talk, a hint of degradation, mentions of pregnancy and body changes.
WC: 1.4k
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Harry lost his sanity in the best way possible.
His mind couldn’t put an effort into focusing on anything except his one and only goal.
Breeding his wife.
It felt like his only purpose in life for a while now. His thoughts were composed of nothing but her ovulation days and how many loads he needed to give her.
Though—she was a bit greedy today.
Her body rested on some blankets and pillows laid out on the ground, with a lit chimney nearby. He towered over her, body glistening with sweat as the fire casted light on his skin.
His tattoos were on full display, curls hanging loosely on his forehead with his cock erect against his stomach, and dripping on her pussy.
She let out small whines as his thumb teased her swollen clit. He coaxed two orgasms out of her with his mouth, something that was set in stone in their sex life.
But—his future baby mama was ovulating, and after giving her two orgasms, it was time to fill her up.
“Look at you darling, legs open and spread. Are you that excited for Daddy’s cum?” He spat on her pussy, allowing it to mix with his dripping pre cum that was torturing her. He didn’t give her his cum yet—he’s just teasing her by allowing a small amount of it to fall on her pulsing pussy.
“Uh-huh.” She nodded immediately, drooling at the thought of getting knocked up.
Everything felt warm and lovely. Their naked bodies being near the fire as he prepared her to receive his load did something to her brain chemistry. Besides, the sight of her husband—acting so primal had her spreading her legs as wide as possible.
“Hmm, gonna be a good mama?” He leaned down, pressing a torturous peck to her glistening pulsating pussy. His tongue licked up the pre cum that dripped down, as he enjoyed the smell of her ovulating pussy that ignited something in him.
“Fill me up, please.” The plea in her voice was rushed. She loved having sex with him, that was a solid fact. But, she was weak for his naked body and thick cock.
His mannerisms and actions changed after wanting a baby. Every single thing was ten times more attractive. Things as simple as his pumped biceps and chiseled abs—or his veiny hand that choked her throat a billion times before.
“Look at you, so pathetic. Begging for my cum, but you can’t help it, can you? You need me to breed you.” He felt lucky for not passing out at the erotic sight in front of him. His wife. His lover, so bare for him with her legs spread, giving him her pussy to use and breed.
Always so good for him.
He grabbed his cock and tapped it at her clit. She tried to jerk her hips, needing some friction, but he was quick to slap her pussy.
“Behave.” He ordered her. He had to breed her properly so he was very adamant on doing everything perfectly.
He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as his cock sank into her warm walls. It was an irreplaceable feeling—especially because he would be impregnating her.
She let out a loud whine, as her fingers gripped the pillows next to her. Her facial expressions displayed relief and ecstasy just like he expected.
“That was exactly what this pussy needed, eh? Felt relieved when I stuffed you.” He grinned, looking down at her body as she rolled her eyes when he went deeper.
Her warm wet walls were driving him insane. Just the idea of having her take his cock on her ovulation day made him dizzy.
He fastened his pace gradually, his hips moving perfectly to hit her favorite spot. Her moans were music to his ears. There was something so lustful in having her lie down and take his cock and cum.
He was ready to keep her up all night to make sure she got stuffed. Besides, his stamina and sex drive were unmatched—which is why she sometimes asked him to use her body and manhandle it as he wished.
“God look at that baby. My cock is so deep inside you.” He pressed his ring-clad hand on her stomach. “See, that means my cum will be everywhere.”
His thrusts were now rough, hitting her cervix and making her breasts jiggle. The sound of wetness has never been this loud, not to mention their skin slapping.The lit fire added to the ambiance, making them feel extra warm and hot.
“You hear that? That’s my cock breeding this pussy.” He smirked at her state—falling apart at the feeling of his thick cock fucking her warm pussy.
“M—more.” She smiled as if she was stuck in a haze.
“Oh, baby, such a cockslut. Used to be my shy virgin girl and now you’re begging me for a baby.” He tsked, feeling his ego inflate at the thought of her progress.
He corrupted his lover, but he wasn’t to blame. His cock was just too good.
He grunted upon looking down to where they were connected. His cock was slick with precum and her wetness, sliding in and out of her hole as she whined and whimpered.
“That’s right. Letting your husband use your hole for breeding.” He pulled away, watching her pussy clench around nothing upon feeling empty, before thrusting back harshly.
Her face was to die for. So pretty just for him. He loved watching her eyes roll back or seeing her sweet smile, knowing that he’s fucking her hard and fast.
She opened her mouth wide open, an indication of wanting him to spit inside. He immediately leaned in, grabbing her face roughly before spitting in her mouth.
“Shit. Dirtiest cockslut.” He sealed their lips together as he continued his brutal thrusts.
Sweat covered their bodies, and everything felt heated. The fire, their lower bodies—along with their skin on skin contact and intense kisses.
“You’ll look so beautiful with your bump and full breasts.” He panted, trying not to cum on spot at the idea.
“Yes—please.” A few tears slipped from her eyes at the intensity of their sex.
His pounding was ruthless. The way his hips drove into her could only stem from good stamina. As if he trained himself to last for her.
“Whose going to make you a mama?” He slowed down his thrusts, laying his forehead against hers.
“You.” She groaned, scratching his back.
“Whose cock is breeding you?”
“Yours.”
“Damn right.” He pulled his body away and wrapped his hand around her throat.
When she’s too gone for him, she wouldn’t tell him that she’s cumming. But he knows her body—so when she began clenching more and mumbled things under her breath, he knew.
“I know baby, let go for me. Let me give it to you.” She loved deep strokes at the end, so he switched to that.
She came on his cock without a warning. Her entire body shook under him as she moaned his name out loud, and scratched his back.
Her pussy gripped him tightly, pulsating around him and it was so fucking warm. He couldn’t hold it and followed her orgasm by filling her up.
It felt otherworldly, releasing in her like his life depended on it—making sure that he was so deep inside so that it catches.
“That’s it, let your womb have it.” The feeling of his hot cum filling her up was euphoric and intense. He prepped her face with kisses, mumbling love confessions, telling her what a perfect wife she was as she stilled his hips inside of her.
“No leaking until I pull out, m’kay?” She can still feel his cock twitching inside her as his cum flowed.
She was too lost in her thoughts, dreaming of her swollen belly and Harry sucking on her lactating tits—
“Baby?” Once he grabbed her chin, she was pulled out of her daydream.
“Are you my good breeding whore?”
She nodded immediately like it was common knowledge.
“Then clench your pussy for Daddy and hold it. No leaking please.” He whispered, before moving her hair away and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
He continued to whisper dirty things in her ear—how this was just the first load and that she deserved way more for being his good girl.
He promised her to stay up till dawn, and frankly?
She couldn’t wait.
——————————————————
Taglist: @prettythingsworld-blog @slut4marvelmenn @cherrycokeslay @wandas-lawyer @tbsloneely @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @missmielyhoran @harryssideboob @harrysficreblog @itslottiehere @hsonlyangelxo @gem1712 @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @hrryberry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @matildasatellite @a-strange-familiar @greivingfortheliving @babyyangel111 @soblavk @straightnogayhs @awesomenavy @infinatetatie @be-with-me-so-happily @harrysrockstarsgf @cherrys4suckers @straightontilmornin @stilesissaved @daphnesutton @elioslover
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chrollohearttags · 3 months
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ENVY | EREN JAEGER • the seven slutty sins series: part two
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he’s not selfish, he just wants you all to himself..
musician/influencer au, possessive (yandere if you squint) eren, black fem reader, rough sex, spit play, hair pulling, overstim, exhibitionism, etc.
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eren never got jealous!
at least that’s what he told himself..nothing ever really garnered that much of a rise out of the rapper. Sure, he’d have fleeting moments of self doubt and insecurity like any other warm blooded human on this planet but one thing that could be said of EJ The Don, was that he was no hater. Others’ problems or accomplishments were of no consequence to him…someone trending higher on the charts for a number one spot? Cool. Just meant that it was their time instead of his. Awards shows? He wasn’t bothered. One man’s win didn’t spell failure for him. And when it came to women? EJ was the textbook definition of unbothered. He was cool on every single one that had ever crossed his path. Nonchalant and never worried with the possibility that he could lose her. Simply put, it wasn’t a problem for him. He was also never worried about his proverbial competition..because on the off chance that another guy was in the picture, there was no question of who she was going home with! He never had a reason to resent anyone..
…that was until he saw you with him!
“Oh my—‘rennn, fuuuck, I can’t..”
“Can’t what, hmm? Go ‘head, speak up, baby. I’m listening..”
he was calm and collected until he spotted you on Twitter..one of the rare instances he decided to actually engage with the app and he happens to see his beloved (y/n) dancing to his best friend’s song. Subtly shaking your ass to the upbeat instrumental in that skin tight dress. A sheer thong peeking out underneath and giving the world a small glimpse of what belonged to him…that tiny string swallowed up by the thick of that ass and plump pussy lips. The same ones that were all but drooling for him at the moment as he thrashed around your insides with a thumb gently placed into that puckering asshole to aid in your pleasure.
“N-no more..you win…I can’t take it..”
you’d declare in haste, but he wasn’t buying it. Or rather, he didn’t give a fuck! Why would he when you couldn’t be vexed to consider how he’d feel? Seeing you twerk to the sound of his homeboy’s lyrics when he was all that you needed? He was the only one that could turn you so salacious..ripping your clothes off as if they were paper thin..that much proven by the fact that right now, you were bent over the counter space where his friend had just sat prior to going on stage. Buried to the hilt on his stiff, aching cock as he hooked two fingers into your mouth whilst they swabbed your tongue. The same one that throbbed and pulsed at the very sight of you..the one that swelled so large, it made it damn near uncomfortable to sit down when you showed off that pretty little body and once you spread those legs to show him what was in between, his tip seeped with precum and embarrassingly, sometimes, he’d come all on his lonesome. Hence why he was pounding your cunt into full blown submission and sincerely hoped that someone would catch you two in the act right now.
“You say that but you keep throwing that shit back on me..take that dick and shut the fuck up..”
those same slender, tattooed fingers that were once hooked in the side of your jaw and underneath you to massage that very sensitive clit, were now cupped around your throat so that you could get a generous glimpse at your face right now. That beautiful face desecrated with fallen tears and ruined makeup. Your melted lace lifted clean from the perimeter of your head as he tugged it to keep you in place with those deep strokes. “Look in that fucking mirror. Look how pretty you are taking that dick..” Alternating his pacing between rough and gentle, fast and slow..all in an attempt to bring you closer to your inevitable peak..one that would undoubtedly leave you in a dripping wet mess. He’d watch you tap at that countertop to concede defeat or even reach back to paw at his abs but was only met with sharp hisses and a demented laugh, letting you know that he didn’t care about your pathetic pleas. Honestly, they were nothing more than fuel for his desires. Tugging your head back to occasionally fill those jaws with generous strings of saliva; slapping you to promptly receive your gratitude.
“Did you think I was gon’ let you get away with that shit, baby? This is mine..this my pussy..”
something he’d instill that empty little brain of yours, even if it took all night. If it took another artist and all of the staff backstage walking in, witnessing you in this vulnerable state. “Now open up. Spread that ass open..I want you to take all my nut…get you so full you can’t go nowhere..”
make no mistake, he wasn’t selfish. He wasn’t even jealous…he just wanted you all to himself.
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@jadeisthirsting @spaceforher @honeybleed @shamelesshoefairy @calibabii21 @kaennih-skittles @astrokatsuki @bey0nseh @anubisisthebomb
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fangswbenefits · 11 months
Text
Tiny Spider
𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Your daughter has a few questions, and you suspect Miguel might just open a portal to another dimension.
𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader
FLUFF. No warnings. Just ‘how are babies made’ and 'where do babies come from’ with Miguel and his daughter :)
"I can sense you, tiny spider."
Your eyes darted upwards only to find your daughter of six dangling from the celining by a single thread, wobbling slightly from side to side.
She stuck out her tongue, visibly distraught that she got caught.
"It's time to eat something. Come down now," you urged, pointing to the empty seat at the table.
As stubborn as her father, she wasn't easily convinced and merely dropped a little lower until she eye-leveled with both of you.
"I think Mayday is a terrible influence," you said. "Don't you think, Miguel?"
He was giving her the glare, but it wasn't enough. "No webs at the table."
"But, papá—”
Miguel remained unmoved. She wouldn't win this battle, but he wouldn't either unless you interveened.
"Eat your breakfast," you told her once again, sipping your herbal tea.
She was getting the hang of physics and motion, but it would take her a while to do so effortlessly and gracefully.
Swinging lightly, she managed to flip her feet down and land on the chair nearby.
Now the three of you could finally enjoy breakfast peacefully.
"Where did I come from?"
Miguel instantly frozen and you nearly dropped your cup of tea.
You offered her an understanding look, unsure of how to approach the topic. It's a topic that is bound to be brought up sooner or later, but one that both you and Miguel would rather have to touch later rather than sooner.
"What do you think?" you asked, exchanging a glance with Miguel who looked like he was one second away from imploding.
"Uncle Hobie said a big spider brought me here," she said excitedly. "That mamá and papá wanted me, so a big, big spider came here!," she gesticulated enthusiastically, arms up in the air to emphasise the proportions of said creature.
Miguel grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Uncle Hobie... of course."
"Well..."
Her eyes darted from you to Miguel, waiting for confirmation.
You went first. "That's not what happened. Uncle Hobie isn't to be trusted with stuff like this, little spider."
"Or trusted at all," you heard Miguel mumble more to himself.
The thing with children is that they tend to be very expressive and transparent, so the moment you watched her smile drop, you knew something was wrong.
"You... didn't want me?" she whispered, bottom lip quivering into a pout.
"No! I mean - we did!" Miguel promptly rectified. "No big spider brought you here..." his eyes met yours seeking reassurance. "We did."
"That's it?" she asked, resring her elbows on the table and placing her jaw on both palms of her hands.
She looked... unimpressed.
Miguel nodded, chopping an apple into slices with one of his talons so she could have a bite.
"Pffff," she groaned. "Boring!"
Miguel O'hara wasn't one to be left speechless very often, so you figured this had definitely caught him off guard.
"Sometimes the truth can be boring," you said with a chuckle. "But we both really wanted you and that's what matters."
Your daughter didn't seem to care much about that and, in that moment, the flash of defiance and arms crossed in front of her chest reminded you of Miguel.
"So how did you bring me here?"
"Huh..."
Miguel glanced out the window as he cleared his throat.
Did he expect you to tackle this by yourself? He should have known better.
"Your father will be more than glad to explain," you said, leaning back in your seat, earning a death glare from him.
She was growing impatient by the second, eyes fixed on him as if awaiting a bedtime story.
"Go on, Miguel," you teased with a devious smile.
"Tell me, papá!" she suddenly banged both hands on the table. "I want to know!"
Miguel frowned. Deeply. If looks could kill, you reckoned you'd be six feet under by now.
But he wasn't getting off the hook easily.
"When two people like each other very much... that can happen," he said, not bothering with details.
"But how? How?" she was bouncing in her seat at this point.
You gave him an encouraging smile.
He sighed in defeat. "Hmm... I placed a tiny seed inside your mother one day," his voice was gentle and he seemed more confident now. "You grew and grew and, many months later, you were here with us."
It was an easy enough explanation.
But...
"Inside mama?"
"Yes. Like an egg," he said warmly, wrapping his large hand around her tiny one.
"A chicken egg?" she gasped, turning to you and you immediately noticed a front tooth missing already. Kids. "But... I'm not a chicken."
Her genuine innocence was so endearing that you couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Miguel..."
"Maybe I should have said spider egg?"
"Woah! Now that's cool!" she beamed and her eyes widened like a kid who had just been told they could have unlimited supply of candy. "So I'm really a spider!"
"A tiny spider, yes," he said with a faint smile.
Warmth filled your insides at once. Miguel was always meant to be a father. He was just a natural when it came to children.
He suddenly shot a single string of red web to land on the chair where your daughter sat, sliding it closer to him. She burst into laughter from the motion before putting on a forced serious face.
"No webs at the table!" she tried to mimic his tone, her index finger in front of her face.
He planted a soft kiss on it before bringing her into a tight embrance.
"No more hanging around Uncle Hobie unsupervised," he whispered into her ear.
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millyhelp · 4 months
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Lock the door.
DILF!Dick Grayson x wife!fem!reader
Request: hiii!! I love ur work for dick soooo much I'm actually foaming at the mouth😵‍💫 I was wondering if u could do these prompts 35. “Ooh, you’re not wearing any underwear. Trying to tell me something?” 21. “Go and lock the door for me. I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.” with dilf!dick fucking his wife after putting their kid to sleep. thank you!!
warnings: boobsmilk kink!, breeding kink!, p in v sex, Dick called the reader "mama". Johnny is 2yo here. 18+ minors dni!
notes: I had to do this as a request and not just as a prompt! I just loved the idea!!
Taglist: @harleycao , @spectr3inl0ve , @sparklytoaster
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You and Dick were putting Johnny to sleep. Today was one of the rare occasions where Dick arrived home from the station early and spent some extra time with Johnny and you.
“Lavenders blue, dilly, dilly. Lavender's green. When you are king, dilly, dilly. I shall be queen…” Your voice sounded sweet throughout the room, making the little boy sleep.
Dick watched the two of you closely with a smile on his face, he felt like the most accomplished man in the world. His eyes couldn't help but notice the blue pajamas hugging your body. He sighed and got up slowly so as not to wake Johnny and walked over to you on the other side of the boy's small bed. Dick needs you tonight.
He extended a hand to you and before you took it, you kissed Johonny's forehead and turned off the lamp. Taking Dick's hand, he guides you out of Johnny's room and closes the door silently.
The hand before yours takes place on your waist and guides you to the bedroom. Dick's bare chest presses into your back as the two of you walk to your shared bedroom.
Upon arriving at the bedroom, Dick plants a kiss on your neck and runs his nose along the extension shortly after.
“My favorite..." He finally said something and his voice sounded hoarse and low. You smiled and turned to look at him.
"Yes, the Chanel you gave me for my birthday." You giggled. Dick always loved the smell of perfume on you, and of course, you only wore this one for him. “I missed you…”
Dick’s hands went directly to your waist again, this time, pulling you into him.
“Yeah?...” He kissed your lips “Did my beautiful wife miss me?”
“Mhm” You looked into the intense blue eyes.
“And how much did she missed me?..." Dick's eyes looked at your mouth and your eyes waiting for a response.
“Why don't you find out?" You looked at his lips.
Dick attacked your lips in a needy way. His tongue dancing next to yours brought whimpers from your throat.
Dick's hands began to roam your body, squeezing, pinching and pulling. At some point he puts both hands on your ass inside your little pajama shorts.
“Ooh, you’re not wearing any underwear.” His mouth was swollen from the kiss. He looked into her eyes, the pupils taking over the blue. “Trying to tell me something?”
“Yes... I told you to find out how much I missed you." Your fingers played with the hair on the back of his neck. "Does that answer your question?"
"Oh yes, that does." He nodded his head with a smile. Still with his hands on your ass, he pulls you up to give you momentum so you can jump onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his hips.
He carried you to the bed and laid you down on it. Kisses were planted on your neck. Nimble fingers began to unbutton your pajama shirt so he could have more access to your collarbone.
“Oh God!” Dick groaned "No bra? My prayers have been answered."
You gave a small laugh. Dick loved your breasts, especially because you still breastfed Johnny sometimes. The little boy was only two years old and only nursed in the afternoon, but today, for some reason, Johnny didn't want to.
Your breasts were swollen and round from the milk. Dick could swear he felt drool run down the corner of his lip.
“Can I?” Dick looked into your eyes. His eyes sparkled with lust and anticipation.
When you nodded, Dick's lips closed around your left breast. The contact of his lips on your sensitive nipple made you moan.
Sucking the milk and licking the tip of your nipple, Dick felt high and very horny. His fingers guided themselves inside your pajama shorts.
He ran his fingers through her wet folds and moaned with his mouth on her nipple. Another whimper was heard from you.
“Hmm I need to fuck you!” He said after releasing your nipple with a 'pop' of his mouth. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip. The scene was totally sexy. “Go and lock the door for me. I don’t want to Johnny walk in while I’m balls deep.”
You nodded and stood up. Dick slapped your ass as you went to lock the bedroom door.
"My wife is so sexy..." Dick looked at you as if he was going to fuck you, and he really was.
Walking back to him. Dick pulls on his pajama button-down shirt making them pop.
“It's okay, mama. I can give you another one.” And he was really going to give you another one, but before that, his lips went towards your right breast. This one he hadn't attacked yet.
Dick squeezed and the pressure of the milk in his mouth was greater. He moaned at the sensation. You could feel Dick's cock poking your thigh through the fabric of his sweatpants.
“Dick, please.” You sighed. “I need you…”
Licking your nipple, he pulls away from your breast.
“Needing me, mama? Where do you need me?”
“Inside. I need you Inside.” Your hand passed over Dick's hard, needy cock. He trembled under your touch.
“Can you ride me? Huh?” Dick pulled up his sweatpants. He had no underwear on, which made his hard and heavy dick hit his stomach as soon as it was freed.
You nodded and took off your shorts. Straddling his lap, he fit the tip into your wet folds.
You slowly went down on his length. Dick and you always fit together. It was as if he was tailor-made just for you. His big cock, from the first time together, always filled you up.
A moan left your lips and Dick returned his attention to your breasts.
You started to move up, down and roll on top of Dick's cock. With one hand on your hip and the other on your other breast, Dick helped you.
"I'm going to keep you with my children... do you know why?" He grunted and looked into your eyes as you moved up and down. You shook your head. “So I can continue to suck that sweet milk of yours! You are so good to me, mama! So good!"
You moaned at his words. Dick could only imagine your belly being round and big again. You being sensitive and very horny during pregnancy. He wants it all again.
With his hands on either side of your hips, Dick helped you bounce faster on his dick. He felt you tighten more and more around him, the tip hitting the bottom of your uterus.
"Dick! Oh-Mhmmm!" You're close and Dick was too. Dick's hands still tightened on his hips.
“Close?” He asks and you respond with a whimper. “Good…”
Dick takes his hands to your boxes and he stands up with his dick still inside you. The grip on your thighs is firm.
He starts fucking you standing up. You weren't supported by anything other than Dick's strong grip on your thighs.
Deep and quick thrusts made wet noises thanks to the new position.
"I'm going to fill you with my children. Do you like how that sounds?" Dick grunted looking at your face which was red and sweaty. "Are you close, mama? I know you are. Cum for me! Let me feel you!"
Dick's pelvis hit her clitoris, causing friction. Your orgasm exploded hard and Dick came to you with grunts.
He sat back down while he still had his cock inside you. Your face rested between his neck and his thumb stroked your back to calm the spasms of your orgasm.
"You really missed me, mama." Dick whispered and you let out a small laugh.
“I did, and-”
Knock knock
A small knock on the door was heard, and soon after a crying voice.
“Mommy! Mommy!” Johnny's voice echoed behind the door.
“Fuck…” Dick sighed "I'll sort this out, lay in bed and I'll come clean you up as soon as I'm done with Johnny."
Dick pulled out of you making you shudder and he put his sweatpants back on.
In the end, Johnny just woke up startled by Mommy's screams. Dick took a while to convince the little boy that his mother was sleeping and that it was all his dreams. The two-year-old boy didn't stay long and fell asleep in Dick's arms.
Poor Johnny.
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HOPE YOU LIKE IT!
I'm slowly coming back heheheh
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luxaofhesperides · 6 months
Text
Accidental Bride Sacrifice ; requested by @starlightcat04!
Danny has long since gotten used to the feel of summonings. They don’t happen often, but sometimes the right components are put together to force him into answering, and he’d have to go as the new Ghost King.
Which no one told him was a thing! He hadn’t protested too much about the whole Ghost King deal when they finally told him about it after he graduated high school. It gave him a good excuse to ditch life in the living realm and not worry about college or a career, and let him really embrace his ghost side. 
The summonings are a problem, though. They always feel staticky and bad, like a dumpster that just got struck by lightning. The taste of iron on his tongue, a clear sign of blood being spilled, lets him know that it would be one of end the world for us summonings, because some people can’t put in the effort to do it themselves, apparently. 
But this time, the summoning feels different.
Danny pauses, eyes going unfocused in the middle of his conversation with Jazz. He had been looking forward to spending the week with her, now that she’s on winter break, but his luck is as bad as always.
“I’m being summoned,” he tells her, cutting off her rant about a transphobic professor she had. 
“Oh, no. Do you need me to do anything? Should I go with you to beat up whoever it is that’s summoning you?”
Danny tilts his head to the side, considering. The taste of blood is noticeably absent. In fact, this summoning pull doesn’t make him feel sick at all. It makes him feel warm, as if he’s just been wrapped in a hug.
“No,” he says. “I think I’m good. This one feels different.”
“A good different?” Jazz asks, worry clear in her voice.
“Yeah. A good different. I’ll come back soon, okay?”
“Alright. Be careful, Danny.” Jazz pulls him into a quick hug, then steps back to watch as Danny stops fighting the pull of the summoning and disappears into a swirling white rings that flashes into existence behind him, blinding her for a moment, and is gone when she manages to blink the spots out of her vision. 
For a minute, Danny drifts in a void of stillness, traveling through the realms as the summoning draws him closer to the correct realm. And then he’s rising out of the ground in a dark building made of concrete, candles of green flame scattered all over the place.
“Great One!” someone in a hooded cloak cries, raising his arms in jubilation. “Our calls have been answered!”
“I’ll fucking kill you!” a mechanical voice yells from farther back. When Danny looks past the cultists’ heads, he spots a man in a red hood and leather jacket chained to a pole, along with a bunch of other people in strange costumes tied up, desperately trying to free themselves. 
“Silence!” The leader of the cult, or who Danny assumes is the leader, snaps at the hooded man and gestures to the people off to his left. They force another costumed person forward, this one in yellow armor. He can see the blood running down their face from beneath their helmet and from their nose, dark lines of blood cutting through their brown skin. 
The cultists throw the armored person forward, forcing them to kneel. Then they bow to Danny and step back.
“Great One,” the leader says, voice unpleasantly reverent and grating, “Welcome to the mortal realms. We offer you this sacrifice to feed your strength. He will make a fine general for your undead army in your crusade to rid this world of its filth.”
The people in the back begin shouting all together, panicked voices overlapping, and Danny is left staring down at the cultists in shock.
The summoning had felt so nice. What the hell was this? He did not sign up for another ‘end of days’ insane cult. He just wanted to be hugged. 
His silence makes the cultists nervous. They begin to shift uneasily, whispering to each other, and the leader clears his throat, then pulls a large crystal dagger out of his cloak. “We shall prove our devotion to you through an offering of a hero’s blood!”
And then he moves towards the sacrifice and Danny snaps out of his shock to yell, “Wait!”
The entire room freezes. Even the costumed people in the back go still. 
Danny winces, then tries to smother his power, make himself more palatable to the humans of this dimension. “Wait,” he says again, and he sounds closer to human now. If he could, he would drop his ghost form entirely, but he knows better than to endanger himself like that. “What, exactly, did you summon me here for?”
The cult leader stares at him for a moment. “To… To rid the world of filth and allow your loyal followers to spread word of your power. You will be worshiped again, Great One, and serve as a reminder to man that Death shall always prevail.”
“Okay, I get that, but I was talking more along the lines of the summoning. What ritual did you use? What specifically were the summoning requirements?”
Normally, he’d be able to figure it out himself, but these cultists didn’t use a summoning circle. So they did something else, something less visible and therefore harder to figure out, in order to bring him here.
A woman standing off to the side speaks up, stepping forward hesitantly. “I had pieced together a few summoning spells from this book to bring you here. You had to accept our chosen sacrifice to your side in order for the summoning to work.”
“Hold up that book for me, please?”
She does, and Danny flies down to grab it from her hands. “Point out which lines you used,” he says, already reading a few of the words written down. It’s definitely ghostspeak written down, which should be near impossible for living humans to translate without being skilled in magic.
“Ah, these ones.” She points to each line, reading them out for him, and Danny starts understand what, exactly, went wrong.
“Is there a problem, Great One?”
Danny returns the book then floats over to the sacrifice and picks him up. The costumed people make alarmed noises, but quietly quiet down again when all Danny does is move him away from the cultists.
“Okay,” he says, “So. The lines you used to summon me were not translated properly. What you interpreted as ‘accepted to stay by the king’s side in loyalty and strength’ is not meant to be, like, him being part of my undead army or whatever. It’s a royal marriage vow.”
“They married us?” the sacrifice shouts, disbelieving. The cult leader buries his face in his hands and sighs.
“My deepest apologies, Great One. We meant no offense. We simply wanted to aid in your destruction of this depraved world.”
Danny scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me. I do not do the biding of random people, especially those who are ready to murder innocent people for no reason. Frighty, if you would.” He snaps his fingers, calling up Fright Knight who always enjoys getting to torment the people who summon Danny for murderous reasons.
Fright Knight appears in a swirl of darkness and screams. Shadows swallow the room, and when they recede, no cultists remain.
“Thanks, Frighty. Have fun with them. I need to figure out all… this.”
Fright Knight bows to him, then disappears. Danny lets out a breath, then floats down lower to be eye level with the sacrifice. “Hey,” he says gently, with a smile, “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m Danny. What’s your name?”
“Du— Uh, Signal,” the sacrifice says, sounding rather dazed. 
“Signal,” Danny repeats. “Like… a traffic signal?”
“No. I mean, maybe? But it is Signal. That’s my hero name, not my real name.”
“Oh, you’re a hero!” His getup makes more sense now. Danny checks him over for any signs of injuries. So far, only his head and nose seem to be injured, but his wrists are tightly bound behind his back. Carefully, Danny calls upon his ice and shapes it into a sharp knife, then cuts through the zipties.
He helps Signal up to his feet, floating by his shoulder. “All good?”
“Yeah, man, all good. Let me just get the others free.”
“Oh, I can do it!” Danny flies over to the other costumed people, who must also be heroes. All it takes is one link in the chain being frozen and broken for the entire thing to go lax, allowing them to free themselves. Hooded guy spares Danny a single glance, then hurries over to Signal to check on him. The other three, a man with a blue bird across his chest, a blond girl with a yellow bat outline on her chest, and a guy with bandoliers and a golden bird emblem, all watch him warily as he floats back towards the center of the room.
“So,” the blue bird man says, “If they summoned you with a marriage vow, and you accepted, does that mean you’re planning to steal Signal away from us?” He’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile.
“No! I had no idea they did this! I am so sorry you all got caught up in this. You most of all, Signal.”
Signal shrugs, nudging hood guy away from him. “Nah, man, it’s all good. This is definitely the better outcome.”
“I don’t know, being married off isn’t really a good thing.”
“Hey, at least they married me off to a decent guy.”
“You don’t know that,” Danny says, “What if I’m secretly evil?”
“If you were secretly evil, you’d be destroying the world right now. I think you’re fine.”
The blond girl waves at him, demanding his attention. “Quick question! They were calling you ‘Great One’. Are you a god or something?”
“Not really? I’m the Ghost King. So I’m a ghost who rules over other ghosts and also a majority of the Infinite Realms.”
She nods as if this is all totally normal for her, then shoots Signal a grin. “Congrats on bagging a king! Not the worst way to spend a night, right?”
“Can you break the marriage?” blue bird man asks, the lines of his shoulders tense.
Danny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, not looking any of them in the eye. “I honestly don’t know. I can look for a way! But I genuinely have no clue. This was unexpected.”
“But you accepted.”
“I didn’t know what I expected! It just felt like a hug, and I wanted a hug! I thought I was being summoned for something nice for once!” Danny curls up, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hides his pout behind his hands. He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help but be upset that he couldn’t have this one good experience from being Ghost King. 
It’s always responsibilities and death cult summonings and fighting ghosts who don’t think he should be king. Sure there have been some good things, but they’re comparatively few when looking at all the other stress and pain that comes with the crown. Sue him for wanting to have a nice night for once. Hell, at this point, he’d take being summoned to help with some kid’s homework, because at least then he could have a quiet night helping someone.
“Hey, man, can you come down here?” Signal asks. 
He wants to stay out of reach, hiding himself away for a bit longer, but Signal is his new, surprise, accidental husband, so Danny lowers himself to the ground and peeks through his fingers to look at him.
He tenses when Signal hugs him, soft and warm and comforting. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on, and then he’s melting into Signal’s embrace, dropping his hands to wrap them around Signal’s back.
Distantly, he can hear the other heroes talking quietly amongst themselves. He blocks out the sound as much as he can, determined to enjoy this hug while it lasts.
Which is… fairly long. Signal makes no moves to end the hug, so Danny closes his eyes to really savor the moment. 
“So,” Signal murmurs into his ear, “As newlyweds, how about we get to know each other a bit better before we start working on fixing all this?”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Let’s ditch these guys and take some time to ourselves.”
“I promise I’ll get this fixed,” he says, just to make sure Signal knows. “Genuinely, I am so sorry to have married you through an old Realms vow when you had no say in it.”
“Hey, if it lands me a very nice, very attractive king, then I don’t mind at all. I could have done without the murderous cultists, though.”
Danny huffs out a small laugh. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for being so cool about this. Want me to fly us out of here?”
“Yes please,” Signal says. Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Signal, then lifts them both up. “I’ll see y’all later! Have fun with the rest of your patrols!” he calls out to the other heroes, who start shouting at him.
Danny flies them right out the roof before the other heroes figure out a way to kick his ass. The city they’re in is smoggy and dark, tall buildings rising up into the cloudy sky, and police sirens ring through the air. There’s no where that looks like a particularly nice spot to land for a conversation, so he asks Signal where he’d like to go and follows his directions from there.
They end up phasing through a building, then into the floor, which leaves them in what Signal calls The Hatch. 
Danny takes a quick moment to freak out over being in a hero’s secret hide out, the composes himself and finally pulls away from Signal.
“So,” he starts, looking around The Hatch and taking in the giant computer, the workstation, the motorcycle farther down the way, “What did you—Woah!” Danny spins around, slamming a hand over his eyes the instant he realizes that Signal is taking off his helmet, leaving his face bare.
It’s not like he’d know who Signal is anyways, being from a different dimension, but it’s the principle of the matter.
Signal laughs when he sees Danny’s attempt to keep from looking at him. A warm hand wraps around his wrist and gently pulls it away. “It’s okay, Danny, you can look,” he says. “It would be pretty weird if my own husband didn’t know my face.”
Slowly, giving Signal to change his mind, Danny opens his eyes. He moves his gaze up, going from Signal’s armor to his face, his very cute face and his warm brown eyes, and Danny stares for a moment. 
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi,” Signal says, fondness coloring his voice. “My name’s Duke. Are all Ghost Kings as cute as you?”
“Duke,” Danny repeats. “Hi. Um, no. The last one really sucked, actually, which is why I fought him. He was so bad the Infinite Realms didn’t want him anymore, so though I technically didn’t beat him in single combat, it was enough for the Infinite Realms to kick him out and get me on the throne.”
“Man, I can not wait to hear more of your stories. Think we got time for that while we search for a way to undo that marriage vow?”
Taking his chance, Danny says, “Sure! It’s a date.”
He’s awarded by Duke’s bright smile and idly wonders how long he can keep them married. Hopefully long enough for them to get into a real relationship where he can propose properly. And then he can get Jazz’s blessing too—
“Oh shit,” Danny realizes. 
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I need to tell my sister or she’s going to actually kill me.”
Duke winces. “And I should probably tell the others before Spoiler makes a mess of things… B is not going to be happy with me.”
They share a despairing look, already dreading the amount of scoldings they’re both going to get. He’s not looking forward to it.
“...Put it off until tomorrow?”
Duke nods. “Yeah. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, how about a late dinner?”
“Sounds perfect.”
. . .
[send me a ghostlights prompt!]
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levilxvr · 5 months
Text
hot things aot characters do during sex
ft: levi, armin, eren, mikasa, annie, jean
cw: f!reader, nsfw 18+, use of toys, unprotected sex
levi
spitting in your mouth and on your clit
he’s real messy when it comes to sex. absolutely loves spitting on your clit and folds while he’s fingering you between your legs. He uses it as lube, spreading it around your hole before plunging two fingers in. If he’s fucking you with his cock and finishes inside you, he’ll lick up the milky fluid from your swollen pussy and spit it back onto your tongue.
“swallow it like a good girl,” his voice is hoarse, lips pressed against yours as you taste his salty release dripping down your throat.
leaving hickeys
When he fucks you, he makes it known to everyone that he did. Nips and bites at your jawline and neck as he’s thrusting himself into you- and you’re too overwhelmed by the pleasure to even notice he’s leaving the most obscene marks down your sensitive skin. It’s his way of marking you and showing everyone that he owns you. And don’t even think about covering them up with makeup. He won’t let you.
armin
moans in your ear while he’s fucking you
armin isn’t the most vocal when it comes to sex, but you can tell when he’s getting closer- his forehead drops against the pillows beside you as he lets out the smallest, breathiest moans. His lips are against your ear sometimes, sucking and kissing the soft flesh as he’s whining.
“mm..fuck baby, ‘m gonna cum soon,” You can practically feel him throbbing inside you, grabbing onto your waist while you’re drinking in every sound he makes. His voice goes a pitch higher too and it’s really cute.
leaving soft kisses all over your body
If he’s fingering you, he’ll place one hand on your thigh while the other carefully strokes and rubs circles on your pussy before pushing them in. His soft lips are on your pelvis, pressing gentle, wet kisses down to your clit. Then he sucks lightly on the small bud, whispering praises while his fingers curl against your sweet spot. It’s the same when his cock is buried inside you, this man likes to kiss every inch of you as a way of expressing his love.
eren
orgasm denial.
if there’s one thing eren loves, it’s watching you beg to cum. He’ll make you go about your evening with a bullet vibrator between your folds, seeing how long it takes for you to break. When you finally get in bed with him his pants are off, stroking his hard cock while your legs tremble. It’s been fucking hours and he won’t let you release- you’ve been holding your orgasm in for so long your pussy is throbbing.
“shh.. just a little while more baby, i promise it’ll feel really good.” he coos, finally pulling off your damp panties. There’s arousal dripping down your thighs and you’re on the verge of tears. He feels a little bad for denying you of your pleasure for so long, but watching your desperate pussy suck in his cock eventually is his favourite part.
presses down on your abdomen to feel himself
he does it every time he’s balls deep inside you. His palm moves to your lower abdomen, pressing against the plush skin as he thrusts himself in and out of you. Feeling the way his cock stretches out your tight hole like that turns him on even more, knowing he’s doing a good job at filling you up.
mikasa
teases you through your panties
she can be a huge tease when she feels like it. Before she even gets to the good part, mikasa likes to lie beside you with an arm around your shoulders while her free hand slips under your shorts. She loves feeling how wet you get for her, fingers ghosting over the soaked fabric of your panties. She’ll press them against your clit, rubbing circles through the fabric until you’re grinding against her fingers.
lets you dry hump her thigh
If you want, mikasa will sit you on her lap, gazing at your perfect body while you’re grinding against her thigh. The room fills with the sounds of your pants and your wet folds gliding against her smooth, muscular thigh, her arms wrapped around your waist while she sucks on your nipple. That’s just the beginning though, cuz after you get off her thigh you gotta do something about the pool of wetness between her legs.
annie
makes you taste your cum off her fingers
she loves the taste of your cum, especially when you squirt- the bittersweetness makes her even more horny. She’ll scoop up your fluids and suck them off her fingers, humming in satisfaction before plunging them back between your folds. Then your mouth is wrapped around her slender fingers as she makes you taste yourself.
“that’s right baby, look at how good you taste.. I could do this all day.”
hair pulling
when you’re using your mouth on her she tends to pull on your hair quite a bit. Not too hard though, cuz she knows it’ll hurt. She does it in a more gentle, encouraging way- like when you’re eating her out she grabs your locks and pushes your face closer. When she’s about to cum she holds on to your hair, fisting the tangled strands while she rides out her high.
jean
eye contact
when it comes to sex, jean is pretty big on eye contact. He loves when you both hold your gazes while he’s penetrating you- and you can see the lust in his eyes, the pleasure in his expression as your walls squeeze around his cock.
“look at me baby..wanna see your pretty face.” he uses his free hand to angle your chin so you’re facing him, smiling softly as his hips move in rhythm with yours. Every time he makes eye contact with you he feels as if he just fell in love all over again.
hugs you tight to feel his body pressing against yours
jean loves your body. It looks and feels so perfect, he can never get enough of you. That’s why when he’s fucking you, he holds you close to him, chest pressed against yours so he can savour every inch of your skin on his. You can make out his defined abs against you as well, breathing in his scent while he’s making you feel good. its always difficult for him to separate after sex- you’re so addictive he never wants to let go.
1K notes · View notes
norrizzandpia · 5 months
Note
this is about oscar? part 3 but its freak by doja cat 🙏🏻
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I fear y/n has released an entire album this time lol @golden-flora
The Album (OP81)
Summary: She’s done singles, one song at a time about her and Oscar’s sex life, but, now, she’s ready for a whole album.
Warnings: dirtiest one of the series, sexual discussions, Oscar being cocky
Note: THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF THE WHO IS OSCAR PIASTRI SERIES IS HERE EVERYONE!!!! Hope you like it, i added some new things. First, as you know, y/n releases an album here, but, also, at the end, instead of smau, it’s just a regular story abt them on a podcast 🤭
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y/nnn Oscar, the album, out tonight with a track list of Freak, Agora Hills, Dick, and Pussy Poppin 🤭
Comments:
Mclarensgirly SHE NAMED THE WHOLE THING OSCAR IM FUCKING CRYING
F1fan2023 using a photo McLaren took is cray
- y/nnn say it with me everyone: he looks hot!
- Mclarensgirly he looks hot!
- ln4andop81 he looks hot!
- f1fan81 he looks hot!
landonorris plz. plz don’t release it. I’ve never felt terror like this in my entire life after seeing that track list
- y/nnn don’t you put your life on the line every weekend to drive a car?
- landonorris yes.
oscarpiastri anyone want to come to the listening party?
- Danielricciardo no.
- landonorris absolutely fucking not
- logansargeant YOU THINK IM GOING TO BE LISTENING TO THESE???
- y/nnn y’all are some fake ass bitches
oscarpiastri haha have fun everyone!!!
- ln4andop81 mans is enjoying himself
- oscarpiastri more than enjoying myself
- landonorris like I’ll literally kill you
TWITTER
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Mclarensgirly i would just like to say that this is the man all those songs are about
- ln4andop81 i mean she did say “tied him down to my queen bed” in freak so that pic does fit the sub allegations
- f1fan2023 she also said “love it when he hit and smack too” in agora hills
- Mclarensgirly also said “hold me down, when a hole need dick”
- f1fan81 also said “he want a quickie, let him lick me, then I started gasping. The way his tongue be going crazy, you wouldn’t imagine. I let him stick me, hair got frizzy, I might let him crash it”
- Mclarensgirly also said “He put that woo all down my throat until i started coughing.”
- ln4andop81 OKAY OKAY I GET IT 😭
- ln4andop81 but also like… lets talk abt it
- Mclarensgirly IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS
- f1fan2023 “he like it when i bend it over and i arch my back. He tap me on my shoulders, i said ‘yeah, i like that’” YOURE KIDDING.
- ln4andop81 i envision that in my head at night
- Mclarensgirly oh?
- ln4andop81 moving on! “Pull the panties to the side, watch a movie and make it two. We just finished number one, but I’m ready for round two” YUM.MY.
- F1fan81 sometimes i wonder if I’m jealous of Oscar or jealous of y/n
- Mclarensgirly real.
- ln4andop81 we also need to talk about Dick bc she literally goes “i met the boy in the 6, but measurements wasn’t a six” UHHHHHHH
- f1fan2023 it baffles me that he’s packing that seriously
- ln4andop81 nothing baffles me when it comes to that boy now that y/n sang “When I made a little mess on it, he told me to clean my act up” BRUHHHH THATS FUCKING HOT AS SHIT
- Mclarensgirly “Skirt up, fuck in the backseat. Take that shirt off, baby, put it on me. Got me like ‘yeehow’, ride it like a horsey. Kinda like seesaw, up and down on the D, give it to him” McLaren’s kicking and crying rn bc they know they cant take their car back from Oscar after y/n confirmed they christened it
- f1fan2023 okay okay but can we talk about “suck a little dick in the bathroom” in agora hills (slay song btw i ate that shit up)
- ln4andop81 YEAH BC IM GOING TO NEED SOME MORE INFO THAN THAT. WHEN. WHERE. WHAT.
- F1fan81 i bet your ass it was in the mtc
- ln4andop81 or in the Australian Grand Prix paddock remember when no one could find him after the face was over and all he said he was with y/n? SHE HAD TO HAVE BEEN GIVING HIM CELEBRATORY HEAD
- Mclarensgirly honestly? They prob did it in both
- oscarpiastri mhm
Oscar and Y/n sat next to each other on the soft sofa of the studio. They giggled with the podcast host as she said their introduction.
“Breaking the internet right now with their sex life, Oscar Piastri and Y/n Y/l/n! Hi, guys, welcome.” Samantha, the host, spoke to them.
Y/n and Oscar mumbled pleasantries, their legs squished together even with all the space to Y/n’s left. The woman was quick to getting into the topic of conversation, having already discussed boundaries with the couple before the cameras started rolling.
“So, Y/n, you’ve just released a small album that focuses mostly on Oscar and the things you two get up to in the bedroom. Were you ever nervous to share these songs with the world?”
Y/n nodded, “At first, yeah, all the way back when we started with 34+35, but it got easier once I saw the overwhelming support for it. I think the best part about releasing them is seeing the jokes that the fans make about Oscar and that side of him.”
Samantha smiled, “That leads me to my next question, Oscar, were you ever nervous to have people know about that side of you? Seeing as it was such a shocker.”
He laughed as he adjusted his position, throwing an arm around his girlfriend, “Um, well, I didn’t think it was that shocking. We didn’t expect people to go haywire over hearing that I lean more towards the dominant side. We kind of assumed people inferred that.”
Samantha’s jaw dropped, “Really?! Oh! I’ll be honest, I was quite surprised when I heard it.”
Y/n shook her head, “I don’t know, I guess the way Oscar is in front of cameras is drastically different from how he actually is. He’s still very soft spoken and quiet, but a bit more outgoing.”
Samantha nodded as she glanced over her next question, “Oscar, what’s your favorite song off this album?”
“Oh, I am so ready for this. Agora Hills.” He answered immediately, smiling proudly at the others in the room.
Y/n turned to look at him, “Really?! Why?!”
His head leaned from side to side, “Just, it’s more romantic? I mean, you talk about tying the knot alongside the sex stuff.”
Y/n and Samantha laugh at his comment, Samantha agreeing, “No, I see what you’re saying. Y/n, you do say you want to show him off multiple times throughout the song.”
“Because I do!” She exclaimed, leaning into her boyfriend lovingly.
He kissed her temple, listening intently to Samantha.
“Your interactions with the fans are hilarious. Do you guys look forward to fucking with them?”
“Hell yeah!” Oscar exclaimed, “Once I caught wind of the fact that they didn’t think I did shit in the bedroom, I became very obnoxious when rubbing what happens between Y/n and I in their faces.”
Y/n cooed jokingly, “Aw, Osc, was your masculinity damaged?”
He rolled his eyes at her, laughing at her dig and pushing her away softly. They came back together, though.
“Before we move on from this subject, I want to ask Y/n, was the over six inches comment really true?” Samantha eyed her as Y/n glanced beside her at Oscar, silently asking him if she could do what he knew she wanted to do.
He nodded at her, shaking his head lightly as she said, “A lady never kisses and tells.”
Silence passed as she raised her hands and aimed them around nine inches apart. Winking suggestively at the camera, the women in the room gasped.
“IS THAT NINE INCHES?!” Samantha screamed, causing all of them to fall into a fit of giggles.
Y/n brought the microphone to her mouth and whispered, “Oh, yeah, it is.”
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heich0e · 6 months
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“Miya-san!”
Osamu’s head swivels towards the sound, and he spots you right away even though you weren't the one who called for him.
You’re a few metres down the road, sitting on a bench in front of a bustling restaurant, slumped over onto the shoulder of your junior who seems to be doing everything he can to keep your head tipped up against his arm. Kimura, the name Osamu had once been introduced to him as at one of the events your company held, has blushy cheeks when the older man approaches—he seems flushed due both to being flustered and a little tipsy, and the knot of his tie is loosened at the base of his throat.
“Kimura-kun,” Osamu greets him with a dip of his head as he approaches, his eyes scanning your seemingly sleeping face. “She asleep?”
“No,” you slur in reply, but your eyes stay closed. Osamu’s not certain it’s the truth, and even less certain you realize he’s the one who said it.
“I-it’s all my fault,” Kimura squeaks, looking increasingly like he might burst into tears. “They were trying to make me drink more, but Senpai kept switching out our glasses when the other section leads weren’t looking.”
“Yeah, that sounds like somethin’ she’d do,” Osamu replies with a fond but exasperated sigh.
“I’m sorry for contacting you so late,” Kimura says, flinching as you slump away from him unexpectedly in your drunken stupor. Osamu is quicker to react than the younger man, stepping in and catching you in the crook of his elbow before you can go toppling off the bench onto the sidewalk. He keeps you steady.
“Don’t apologize, I appreciate ya callin’ me to come get her—and thanks fer lookin’ after her,” he says down to the younger man, who seems relieved now not to be responsible for keeping you upright. “Tell her to bring ya by the shop for a meal sometime as payback. She owes ya one.”
Kimura’s eyes widen and he shakes his head like he couldn’t possibly accept, but before he can decline the offer Osamu turns his attention back to you. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he gently pries you from your seat.
“Up ya go,” he mutters encouragingly as he eases you onto your feet.
Your eyes flutter slowly open, looking around blearily for a moment as you take in your surroundings.
“Samu?” you ask, his name slurred on your alcohol loosened tongue. You perk up noticeably in his arms once you realize just who’s holding you. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to take ya home, Cinderella,” he says with a light laugh as your fingers twist into the material of his sweatshirt against his chest. He looks to Kimura again, who’s also risen to his feet now. “We’ll be off, then.”
“Thank you, Miya-san!” Kimura bows deeply forward, a nearly perfect 45 degree angle at his waist.
He’s a sweet kid, Osamu can’t help but think, even if does follow you around like a puppy.
Osamu helps you down the sidewalk towards his waiting truck, then up into your seat on the passenger’s side. He makes quick work of buckling you into your seatbelt even as you squirm counterproductively, then he jogs swiftly around to his own side of the truck and climbs in behind the wheel.
Kimura waves from outside the restaurant as the truck pulls away.
“Seems like ya had fun tonight,” Osamu remarks as he drives in the direction of your home. You hadn't even wanted to attend this work gathering, but had been forced to by your director. Now look where it had gotten you.
You’re fiddling with the controls of the radio, stations crackling in and out as you switch rapidly through the channels. 
“Drank too much,” you complain, settling on a talk radio station (of all things) that seems to be midway through discussing prefectural bylaws.
“Don’t I know it,” Osamu quips in reply and you swat at him harmlessly over the centre console with a laugh.
You’re turned in your seat, your body facing in his direction, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the road. He can feel your gaze tracing over him, but doesn’t glance back.
“Hey,” you whisper, something conspiratorial in your tone. “Wanna know a secret?”
“Sure thing,” he plays along with your antics, fighting back a grin.
It’s silent for a moment—only the voices on the radio discussing trash collection to be heard. Osamu pulls up to a red light, and finally looks over to meet your gaze.
Your eyes are glassy and a bit unfocused, but they’re bright with affection.
“I have a crush on you,” you tell him with a giggle.
Osamu’s chest pangs.
The light turns green.
“Well,” he remarks, returning his gaze to the road ahead and proceeding through the intersection. “That’s good.”
From the corner of his eye, he sees your shoulders slump dejectedly. 
“I’m being rejected,” your next words are positively morose. You turn away from him and lean your body over to the side. He hears a loud thump as your forehead head hits window on your right.
“Hey!” Osamu chides you in concern, reaching out and grabbing the collar of your blouse to tug you up a little straighter. It’s not the most elegant motion by any means, but he’s fairly limited with his other hand on the wheel and his eyes still on the road.
“Owww,” you complain, rubbing your forehead weakly. You bat the hand he has clutching the collar of your shirt away. “You’re so mean.”
“How’m I mean?” Osamu guffaws beside you.
“I just confessed my love for you, and all you had to say is ‘that’s good’!” You turn your body in your seat to waggle an unsteady but judgemental finger at him. “A woman’s heart is a precious, fragile thing, y’know!”
“There’s nothin’ fragile about ya,” Osamu mutters under his breath, thinking about how much you had to drink that night as a prime example of this fact. “Yer tough as a brick wall.”
“Mean!” you jeer at him again, your mouth agape in the wake of his words.
Osamu flicks his turn indicator on before he pulls his truck over to the curb, putting it into park. You’ve stopped outside a convenience store, and when he turns to look at you, the fluorescents from inside the shop bathe you in a backlit halo where you sit in the passenger seat.
He grabs your hand. The one you still have lifted to point at him.
“D’ya see this?” he asks, holding your hand up in front of your face. The ring on your fourth finger catches in the glow of the convenience store lights.
Your eyes widen.
Osamu holds up his left hand where there’s a ring that matches your own.
“I said it’s good y’got a crush on me ‘cause we’re married, dummy.”
Your lips form a surprised little ‘o’ as your eyes flicker rapidly from the band on your finger to his own and back again. 
After a moment you grin, your eyes squeezing shut with how high your cheeks lift. “What a relief!”
Osamu is quick inside the store, just popping in to buy a vitamin drink for you and a pack of cigarettes for himself. He doesn’t smoke as much these days—you’d nag him incessantly if he did—but every so often he gets a craving, and tonight is one of those instances. 
The two of you sit side by side on the curb in front of the shop, the truck parked a little ways down the road. 
Osamu takes a drag of his cigarette, sighing in contentment with wispy plumes of smoke slipping from his lips. He peeks over at you from the corner of his eye. 
“Ya feelin’ better?” he asks.
You’ve got the little bottle of vitamin drink cradled in your hands, working your way through it slowly. You hate the taste of them, he knows that, but you’d regret it more tomorrow morning if you didn’t force it down tonight. You nod a bit, and seem to have sobered up in the time since Osamu arrived to take you home.
“This reminds me of when we first started datin’” Osamu laughs to himself. And he means it. Everything about it. Being out so late. The taste of the tobacco on his tongue. The way you keep creeping a little bit closer to him unconsciously, as though his space isn’t already yours to freely take. “I can’t believe ya forgot we’re married.”
You groan in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”
He bites back a grin, trying not to revel too much in your misery.
“And I’m sorry I made you come pick me up,” you mumble after a moment, taking another sip from the little bottle in your hand and wincing against the bitterness. “I planned to just take a cab.”
“It was that little junior of yours who contacted me,” Osamu laughs, lifting the cigarette to his lips and holding it there while he rifles in his pocket for his phone. He holds the device out so you can see the conversation where your subordinate had commandeered your phone, remorsefully messaging Osamu asking him to come and collect you from the bar. He’d even used a funny little sticker of a bunny with tears in his eyes bowing apologetically—it bears a striking resemblance to Kimura himself. 
“That kid,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly as you rub your temple. Your eyes suddenly widen and your face snaps towards your husband. “Wh—“
“Tsumu’s there watchin’ ‘em,” Osamu laughs, reaching up and plopping a hand down atop your head. “Not that there’s much to watch since they’re in bed. He was still at the house when Kimura-kun messaged me.”
You lean into Osamu's touch as you think of your twins at home, tucked up in the little bed they share, and it makes your heart ache a little bit. You wonder if you’ll be able to creep in and give them a kiss goodnight when you get home without waking them. 
You go terribly quiet for a moment, and Osamu finishes his cigarette. He stamps it out on the curb beside him and then slips the extinguished stub back into the pack to throw into an ashtray later.
“Samu?” you call to him, your voice quiet.
He glances over at you, and sees the way you’ve wrapped your arms around your knees. The anxious posture worries him.
“I didn’t forget you, I promise,” you whisper. “It’s just… sometimes I think this is all too good to be true.”
Your husband watches as you admire the ring on your finger that reflects the streetlight overhead.
Osamu smiles to himself, scooting closer to you on the curb.
“I know,” he reassures you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you into his side. Your head naturally falls to his shoulder. Familiar and instinctive. “I was just teasin’ ya.”
You smell like alcohol. He’s sure he smells like cigarettes. You're in rumpled business casual, and he's dressed in the sweats he planned to wear to sleep. He reaches over and takes your left hand in his own—your wedding rings overlapping. And for a moment, in spite of all the ways the two of you have changed over the years and all the ways that life is different now, everything is exactly how it’s always been.
He tilts his face and presses a lingering kiss to your temple.
‘I’ve got a crush on ya too, by the way.”
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princessbrunette · 7 months
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kinktober : oct 17th
captain price x handjob
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one thing about price, is that his pants are always gonna fit snug around the crotch.
you’ve giggled about it before, laying half over his thigh in bed after he’d come home late snuggling into you — half asleep asking why he always wears such ‘tempting pants’ only for him to chuckle nonchalantly, saying something along the lines of “gotta give my best girl a show, don’t I?” before shushing you to back to sleep.
it became your favourite sight once he’d arrive home to you, his sweet doting wife, who can only try her very best to keep her eyes on his in conversation when his cock was practically looking at you first, heavy and visible in his pants, tight belt at his hips only accentuating the shape. you wondered if he was always half hard or something, or if he really was just that long and thick.
sometimes you couldn’t control yourself, you’d just wanna touch on him.
there’s no complaints from john as you lean up to kiss him slow and needy in the hallway when he’d arrive home in all his gear, your hand sliding down his stomach and caressing his bulge, a moan torn from your throat at just the shape under your hand. he smirks to himself, thinking you want something from him. “two steps through the door and you’re asking to get dicked down. y’think m’not tired, love?” he smirks against your mouth, fully willing to give you whatever you want regardless.
you whine a little, and as much as you’d love that— you’re just in the mood to take your time and play with him. so, you drag him to the couch and shove a beer into his hand, the full breadwinner treatment as you unzip his pants. “just wanna play with it. want you to relax, john.” you tell him sweetly through your eyelashes, holding that eye contact as you drool into your palm. he exhales, jaw slack as he shakes his head.
“i must be the luckiest man on earth.” he chuckles, low in his chest and you hum with a sweet little hazed out smile, lips still a little wet from drooling on your hand as you begin to tug at his cock.
“y’so big.” you practically mewl as you slowly stroke him up and down, twisting your hand for his pleasure.
“yeah?” he responds, lips against the tip of his beer bottle as he sips, voice slightly muffled into it and brows furrowed as he watches the movement of your hand. “fuck.” he whispers post swallow.
“mhm…” your voice is breathy and moan-y, and he can’t help but sit forward, reaching to pull you closer.
“you want me to fuck you like this, sweetheart?” he gruffs, placing his beer aside. you pant, your free hand pressing at his chest as you shake your head with doe eyes.
“just wanna see you cum like this, please? can have me afterwards…” you beg, not breaking the eye contact once again as you lean forward and drool, letting it hit the tip, your fingertips smoothing over it and massaging it into his cock.
“fuckin’ ell.” he scratches his beard, tipping his head back against the couch and spreading his thighs, the sight making you wish you took up his offer, but also glad you were being patient. “little minx, you are.” he smirks, his eyes still shut.
soon, his stomach is tensing, and he’s reaching out to grab the nearest thing to him, which happened to be a couch cushion, digging his fingers in as he pants. “shit, baby. right fuckin’ there.” he groans before spitting out pearly liquid into your palm, letting it drip down your wrist. you let out whimpers just at the feeling and how good he looked coming undone.
he finally comes down, barely aware of the feeling of the couch shifting beside him. when he finally comes to, reaching out for you and opening his eyes — he’s stopped in his tracks to see you with your panties off, eagerly using his cum as lube as you stroke your fingers hungrily through your own folds, whimpering. he eyes you with a tongue pressed into his cheek before shaking his head, regaining his strength as he pushes himself up to pin you on your back. “little fuckin’ tease, aren’t you?”
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