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rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months

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pillow princess

words: 1.3k

warnings: 18+ only, male receiving oral, riding, unprotected sex, p in v sex, rafe calls reader kiddo/kid

“rafey.” you whine, stepping into all the chairs circled around, filled with topper, kelce and some other guys you recognize as rafes friends.

“what is it baby?” he questions, giving you his full attention despite all the boys sitting around. he doesn’t care that they see him being affectionate with you. its not like his manliness is in question.

“i miss you.” you complain. you were bored sitting upstairs in your bed all alone. you knew it was boys night. first they watched a game, then sat around and talked and drank, but you wanted your boyfriend, feeling extra clingy today.

“aww, come here kiddo.” rafe leans back, opening up his arms, letting you slot yourself onto his knee. you immediately lean your head against his shoulder, snuggling your body into his.

rafe holds you tight to him, fingers drumming against your thigh as the conversation immediately starts up again. you only pay half attention to it, most being about the game they just watched, or their max bench, whatever boy stuff they usually spend the time chatting about.

your ears perk up when the conversation changes to girlfriend and sex. “man, my girl rides me like a fucking jackrabbit.” one guy laughs, making your nose scrunch up.

the rest chime in, except for rafe. you're not sure if it's just because you're there or if he prefers to keep your sex life private.

“alright, boys.” rafe says. “better get going, my lady clearly needs me.”

you smile and blush, cheeks flaring. you bury your head in rafes shoulder as he says his goodbyes, his friends filling out the door. rafe makes sure it closes behind them before scooping you up, holding you in his arms, not even questioning if you want to be carried upstairs.

“rafe?” you hum as he sets you down on his bed. “you know i would ride you if you wanted it, right?”

rafe lets out a sudden laugh, confused by your question. “what brought this on baby?”

“just the guys… talking about their girlfriends riding them. i never do that for you.” you shrug.

rafe shakes his head. “i don't mind that you’re a pillow princess.”

you gasp, pressing a hand to your chest. “i am not a pillow princess!”

rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “you are, but its okay. i like being on top.”

“but-but-” you stammer. “i’m not!” “okay, wanna prove it?” rafe questions, a smirk still playing on his lips, knowing exactly what he's goading you into doing.

“take your clothes off.” you challenge back.

rafe tugs his shirt over his head before pulling at his pants. he undresses quickly, watching as you stand up off the bed to take your tanktop and shorts off.

rafe climbs onto the bed once he’s stripped, leaning against the headboard with a lazy smile on his face. you blink at his dick, still mostly soft, resting against his thigh. usually rafe will eat you out or finger you and by the time you’re ready to fuck, he’s already hard.

“come on, show you’re not a pillow princess. get me hard.” rafe beckons you over.

you finish taking off your underwear before climbing onto the bed, kneeling between his legs. you reach for his cock, taking it in your hand, starting to stroke it as you watch with fascination as he hardens right under your fingertips.

“gonna suck me off too?” rafe questions.

“maybe.” you hum. you bend down, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, suckingling as your hand continues to stroke most of his length.

you work him until he’s completely hard before letting your mouth sink lower, taking as much as you comfortably can before setting a pace of moving back to just have the tip in your mouth to taking him fully.

“such a good girl.” rafe coos, placing a hand on the back of your head, but he doesn’t force you down, doesn’t help your movements. he lets you take control like you swore you could do.

you reach down between your legs as you suck him off. you’re a little wet, but it’s nothing like when rafe fingers you before sex, so you rub your clit as you flick your tongue over his length, his moans reaching your ears.

you pull off of his cock with a pop, already feeling tired of being in control. you wish rafe would have pushed himself down your throat, showed you just how he liked it, but he just watches you as you climb onto his lap.

you stroke his cock a few more times as you position yourself properly, hovering your cunt over his dick before slowly sinking down, letting out a moan as he fills you up, stretching slightly more than usual without as much prep.

“it feels different from this angle.” you admit, looking shyly down as you sit on rafes fat cock. you feel it twitch inside you, and you know he’s desperate for you to move from the strained look on his face.

you begin to bounce, placing your hands on his chest. you wish he would grab your waist or your ass, helping you move on his length, but he leaves it up to you as you grind your cunt down.

you already feel your legs beginning to get sore, your muscles not used to this type of motion as you already begin to slow down, ashamed at how fast you are ready to give up, so you try to power through, but to no avail.

“fine.” you give up. “i’m a pillow princess.”

rafe flips you over suddenly, pressing your back into the mattress. “i told you so. should have just listened to me, kid.”

you whine as you wrap your legs around his waist as rafe begins to thrust. “i just like this better.” you don’t want to admit that you got exhausted after a minute of writing, and you really do like rafe on top of you better, his hair falling around his forehead as he looks down at you.

“you’re so pretty baby, i don’t care that i have to do all the work.” rafe says as he pumps into you. “not when your pussy is this tight.”

you grab at rafes shoulders, pulling him down into you so you can press your lips together. rafe grabs your tit with one of his hands, keeping the other around your waist as he kisses you, tongue pushing inside of your mouth as another show of his dominance.

“gonna cum inside me?” you question.

“of course im gonna baby girl.” rafe says, sealing his promise with a kiss as he begins to move faster, digging deeper into your cunt.

“please.” you whimper, wanting to feel rafe release inside of you. you scratch your fingernails lightly down his back, making him shiver as his cock suddenly pulses, spurts of cum shooting into you.

“oh fuck, baby.” rafe moans as you clench around him, purposely milking him.

rafe collapses to the side of you, slipping out of your cunt, leaving his cum to slide out of your pussy onto the bedsheets.

rafe breathes deeply for a minute while you also try to get your breath back before he turns on his side, kissing your jawline and neck as he brings his hand back towards your pussy, but you shut your legs, squeezing your thighs tightly to deny him.

“but you didn’t cum yet.” rafe says with a pout, feeling like he failed if he can’t get you off too.

“i’m too tired, don’t wanna.” you admit with a shrug, feeling satisfied without the orgasm.

rafe can’t help the small chuckle that leaves his mouth. “you’re too tired from riding me for like two minutes? and you tried to argue that you’re not a pillow princess?” “yeah, whatever.” you roll your eyes. “just cuddle me.”

rafe nods, pulling you in with his big arms, letting you snuggle into his chest. “i love you princess.”

the words warm you, making your cheeks blush, never getting tired of hearing him say those three words as you tip your head up, letting your lips ghost over his. “i love you too.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby

#this is kinda rushed and i think i hate it :)#rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe cameron x you #outer banks x reader #outer banks fanfiction #obx x reader #obx fic

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simonrillleyyysss · 6 months

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I don't know if you write for him but damn I need Nikto content!! :/

like him having sex with the reader and trying not to be so rude/rough but- damn, this man is too strong and can't control himself :(((

I FUCKIJG LBOE NIKTO SO MUCH HE NEEDS MORE LOVE!!!!!!!!!¡¡¡

afab reader

sorry for shit translations 😜

this man is a bear!! always so careful with you even out of the bedroom—making sure not to tug too hard on your hand, or accidentally squish you

but most of this goes out the window during sex!! how can he control himself when your pretty hole is sucking him back in, thick lashes wet with tears as he slowed his pace, gently shushing you!! huffing into ur neck<3

he tries to control himself, he really does! but it’s so hard to do when you’re pleading for more; mascara dripping down your cheeks, hands resting on his broad, scarred shoulders :((!!

‘ nik—nikto, please..’

‘Что это?’

you gasped out, chest rising and falling with quick breaths; his brows furrowed and dotted with sweat, his lips parted as he huffed like a dog, lifting his face from your hickey-covered neck, hands gripping onto your hips as he slowed his movements, holding himself back!!

‘need more..please, nik—you wont hurt me..’

‘i don’t think i could control myself, К��олик.. Я бы потерял себя, i don’t want to hurt you.’

‘nikto—i want it to hurt..please!’

he wouldn’t be able to stop himself afterwards :((

‘О боже, грязная шлюха.. you like this?’

‘mhm—mhm! oh, nikto! im gonna cum—it’s so big; oh!’

‘biggest you’ll ever have? Правильный?’

‘mhm—pleasepleasepleasepleaassuhhh!’

would be rutting into you like a jackrabbit, nails making crescent-moon shaped indents in your hips thighs, your pretty eyes rolled back and lashes fluttering!! his thick cock splitting you open with determination, rubbing quick circles over ur puffy buttom clit<33

always makes you cum first!! feeling your cunt clench around him with a wail—his cock pumping in and out of you throughout your orgasm, thighs forced open by his brutish hand, kneading at your tummy with his freehand!!

eventually spurts his cum inside you with a growl, stuffing two fingers inside ur cunny to keep it in!! kissing your chest and gently running his tongue along your perky nipples, before lifting his head and pressing s kiss to it!!

‘did wonderful, didn’t you?’

‘mmhhh..thank you, nik..’

‘of course, bath?’

only does what u want him to do

#nikto smut #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto x female reader #Никто #nikto #mwii nikto #simonrillleyyysss #cod smut #call of duty smut #modern warfare 2 smut

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miguel-owhora · 1 month

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a little miguel drabble bc im sad n horny :((

— subbot!miguel , domtop!mreader , creampie , implied size difference , breeding kink , miguel isn't spider-man in this world , spider-man!mreader, no dialogue, not beta read hmgh, listened 2 i bet on kosingndogs on reepat so ::333333

:((

Miguel feels as if he's suffocating, but in the best way possible. He's been forced onto his chest, his face pressing against the mattress as his mouth hangs open with small puffs and gasps escaping his mouth. Drool leaks from the corner of his mouth, his hair is damp and sticks to his forehead and skin, sweaty. The hair on his nape curls, and his fingers are gripping the sheets of the bed.

You're slotted between his thighs, body caging him in. You have him pinned between the bed and your chest, caging him in like some poor prey, and the thought makes him groan, makes him clench around your cock and curl his toes.

You've been fucking him for God knows how long, forced your way between his legs and ate him out until he began to squirt once, and twice, and thrice - far more than he's ever had considering squirting wasn't a thing he knew he could do up until a moment ago.

Ever since you were bitten, you've been insatiable. Miguel had been bemused when you grew, all long limbs and a fast metabolism, and he had been nothing but fond for his new beanpole of a husband. But that fondness quickly changed to something more sensual when you formed muscles and your shoulders began to grow broad, when it became easier for you to manhandle him into whatever position you both wanted, when you could eat him out for hours on end until he was forced to tap out, when you could fuck his pussy and fill it up with endless amounts of cum.

"Ah- shock!" Miguel moans out when his orgasm crashes over him, makes him bite down on his pillow and curl his toes even more, eyes glazed over. His cocklet throbs and his pussy spasms around your cock. You grunt, grip his hips, and plunge your cock into his cunt, jackrabbiting into him until you're pressing your cock as deep as it can go. Your cockhead presses a sloppy kiss to his cervix, length throbbing as you cum inside of him.

You're panting, sweaty and trembling limbs, slowly grinding into his pussy; talk about insatiable. Miguel feels like jello underneath you, fucked beyond relief, content to lay there and become your living fleshlight.

Miguel whimpers, weakly curses, when not a couple minutes later your cock is back to life and you're twitching your hips. You lean down and press a silent apology to his shoulder blade in the form of a loving kiss, and Miguel accepts your apology by weakly grinding back onto your cock, wondering if this'll be the day you knock him up.

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diaryofaprettyprincess · 2 months

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(rafe stuff comin soon but heres a eeny beeny teeny thought!!)

stepdad!leon kennedy x obsessed!naive!reader...

shes so obsessed with him...obsessed with everything that has anything to do with him. following him around the house like a lost pup.

one day u get really jealous after overhearing a phone call he had with your mom (she's always out somewhere---either with her friends or... God knows where--so it is truly just you and leon alone). obviously you know that leon has to keep up the image of being a loving doting husband, but when you hear him say the simple words, "i miss you too--alright love you too, bye." to end the brief phone call between the two of them, your face blushes and heats up with possessiveness.

just completely taking leon by surprise--usually he is the one in control,but right now you cant take it anymore!! he was yours, not hers!!!

just bouncing on his cock and grinding ur engorged button on the trimmed hair of his pelvis as you cry. his big arms encaging your smaller body and you just feel so so good!!! except u remember the conversation between leon n ur mom and u start getting angry.

"u--u love me?" u simper out, bottom lip pulled out in a pout as tears sprout from ur eyes n fall down ur face. ur desperate.

leon adjusts his body so his head is against the pillows as you ride, his large and strong hands controlling your bouncing movements. he doesn't respond, not exactly hearing you as you clench your sopping cunt around his veiny cock, small grunts falling from his lips.

you lower a bit, your chest pressed against his as you catch his eyes with yours. "answer!" you whine, sniffling.

"wh-?" he begins, and you cut him off. his eyebrows are pulled together in both confusion and concentration.

"you l-love me, r-right daddy?" his cock is pummeling inside of your pussy as he pounds his hips up into yours.

"o-'f course I do, baby.." his voice is so soft as he takes the back of his hand, wiping away your tears and pushing your face to mesh with his, sloppy kisses sounding between the two of you.

"ur only m-mine!" you cry out again, wrapping your smaller hand around his throat. "s-say it."

"i--" he chokes out, slightly surprised by your burst of dominance that you seem to be having. however, he can see right through it. just a frightened little girl afraid of being abandoned. but he would never. you mean everything and more to him. he can feel your hand tighten around his throat, nothing too bad --and he can still breathe. its just the hint of shock that chokes him up for a second.

he can tell you are worked up. must have been worked up for some time now. poor baby, he thinks. you sometimes got this way--too many emotions that flood in ur head all at once. it was overwhelming for you, and he understood that. his hands run along your torso for a second, then slow your jackrabbit-like hips down from its quick bouncing.

"shhh," he shushes you gently and he can feel your hand loosen. your eyes are big and glossy and begging. he takes your hand from his throat and kisses your palm gently, adjusting himself again so as to sit up and be skin to skin with you. he sees how upset you are. he throws your arms around his shoulders so you can be in his lap. close to him. "i'm yours baby--yours and only yours, yeah?"

your eyes are big and pleading as he leans forward, the thrusts have momentarily halted so that he can place you properly in his lap; but he's still inside of you. he kisses your lips gently--so tenderly that it tickles. "you're everything to me, mk? i love you so much.."

you whine, feeling his hands run across your back and the sides of your torso. your still breathing heavily through your nose---but he can see your calming down. he kisses across your neck to your cheek. "gimme some deep breaths, okay?"

you nod, and he breaths deep along with you for a few seconds.

"what's got you so worked up, honey? hm?" his voice is so soft and sweet. so saccharine. it makes you melt even more in his hold.

"don' like you talkin to her.." you whimper out, and he automatically knows. you and your mom never had the best relationship. she was always very mean to you, and you especially didn't like her cuz you have seen her cheating on your stepdad. she just wanted him for money or a warm body to sleep next to. she was very verbally abusive. that is why you loved when she was gone. which she almost always was. leon knew all of this. he was planning on a divorce for a while now, but wanted to wait until you started back at college. he wanted to be with you.

"oh, sweet girl..." he sighs, kissing your lips. "she means nothing to me, baby. need you to understand that, m'okay?"

you nod, playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. "mkay, daddy."

leon smiles gently before kissing you slowly, beginning to use calloused hands for a soft touch as he plays with your peaked nipples.

"know why i love kissin' you so slowly baby?" you shake your head no, a little mew leaving your lips. his tongue drags along yours. "cuz it feels like we have all the time in the world together."

you sigh at his words, beginning to start up your grinding and he helps you pick up your speed.

"all yours, princess. daddy's all yours."

#leon kennedy #tw: stepcest #stepdad!leon x reader #stepdad!leonkennedy #leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy #stepdad!leon kennedy x innocent!reader #obsessed!reader

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sluttywoozi · 1 year

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First Things First | Part 1 of 2

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~3.8k

Notes/Warnings: fem reader, college au, cute and clueless soccer star san, swearing, suggestiveness, alcohol, no sex in this part sry

Backstory I didn't feel like writing: everyone's on the soccer team (8 makes 1 team) and they all live in a scholarship house together plus 3 randos i guess bc there's 11 people on a soccer team apparently just fill it up w ur other favs

San’s crush on you was innocent enough, at first.

You were Wooyoung’s chem tutor last spring so you’d come around the house sometimes, always greeting him warmly with a grin and a short hug before asking how practice was going. San would battle a shiver at the way your body felt pressed against his then get halfway through a response before Woo got annoyed at sharing your attention and tugged you to the study room, leaving him behind with a defeated smile on his face and heat on the back of his neck.

Then summer came and went, the weeks passing quickly with San’s classes and off-season training, and the fall semester started up before he even had time to catch his breath. He’d walked into his first class and there you were, front and center and scribbling in your planner. The seat next to you was empty and San didn’t know anyone else, so he didn’t see any harm in sitting with you.

That doesn’t mean harm wasn’t caused, though.

Really, sitting next to you was the first in a series of mistakes that led him to where he is now: waiting to see if you’ll show up to this party and fighting to shove down the feelings bubbling up in his chest.

It used to be a lot easier but now, he’s spent too much time with you, enough to imagine how you’d feel in his arms and where you’d want to go on a date and what you’d look like in his bed, and it’s these images that flash through his mind whenever he tries to hold a conversation with you.

That’s San’s other problem - for the life of him, he cannot talk to you like a normal person. He can talk to other girls just fine, even when they’re obviously flirting with him, but you’re different. He’s always either stuttering or mumbling, speaking way too fast or not speaking at all, his every interaction with you tinged by embarrassment and self-consciousness. You’re always patient with him, your hand squeezing his arm in encouragement and your sweet smile never faltering. It’s part of why he’s so into you, just knowing you’re along for the ride whether he can get the words out or not.

San can feel his heart start to race, feel it thump in his chest like a jackrabbit when he spots you through the doorway.

Oh god, oh god, oh god. You're here. Fuck.

He’s in charge of mixing drinks tonight but he wonders if he can get another job, not feeling very effective with the way his hands are suddenly shaking. The vodka spills over the shot cup, pooling on the counter and dripping off the edge before he can throw enough paper towels down. He can hear Seonghwa scolding him in the back of his mind, telling him to at least disinfect the floor now that there’s liquor all over it, so he mops a messy trail around the kitchen and prays no one comes looking for a drink before he finishes cleaning.

He’s ducked behind the island, gathering up all of the used towels in his hands when he hears voices. Your voice, more specifically, plus another he doesn’t recognize.

Fuck, he probably reeks of vodka and now he’s got all these nasty towels in his hands and you’re here, in the kitchen, laughing at someone’s shitty joke.

You should be laughing at his shitty jokes, San laments, debating whether it would be worth it to try to army crawl away or if he should just end his misery now and show himself. Your voice grows louder and San knows he has to make a decision, can practically feel the countdown blaring in his mind as the distance between you and his hiding spot shrinks.

San pops up before it’s too late, a sheepish smile on his face and his alcohol soaked hands hidden behind his back. You’re standing by the counter with a guy he doesn’t know, tapping your fingers on the formica and looking around for the mixers. You’d jumped when he appeared, he notes with a grimace. He didn’t mean to startle you but it’s obvious he has by the wideness of your eyes and the hand over your heart.

You break into a grin before he starts to feel too guilty, jumping toward him with a shout of his name and leaning in to wrap your arms around his neck. You smell like your perfume and a bit of the wine he’s noticed you like, and you’re so warm against him, so soft he could close his eyes and fall asleep right now. He presses his cheek to your head in lieu of hugging you back, but notices the joy in your eyes is weaker as you pull away, your gaze falling to the strain of his biceps as he holds the soggy paper towels behind his back.

He’d rather embarrass himself than make you feel sad so he’s quick to reveal them, explaining with a crooked smile and bunched up shoulders that there had been a spill and he’s only just finished cleaning up. You giggle with fondness but the guy with you laughs at him the wrong way, prompting a glare from San and an elbow in the stomach from you.

“This is my roommate’s little brother, I’ll be done with babysitting duty soon,” you promise apologetically.

“I’m not a baby,” he sputters, rubbing his stomach and slinking to the other side of the kitchen. He opens coolers until he finds a White Claw, leaning against the counter and texting rapidly between sips, the dings and clicks pouring tension into San’s neck.

“Yes, he is,” you whisper once your tag-along is far enough away, “He’s been driving me nuts.”

San pouts at you sympathetically as he tosses the towels in the trash and washes his hands, turning just enough to keep you in his line of sight and asking if you want a drink. You think about it for a second before declining with a small shake of your head, your nose scrunching in a way that makes San want to do something ridiculous like kiss it and then ask you to marry him.

You chat with him while he fulfills his team-assigned duties, staring at his hands as he mixes drinks and checking your phone when someone wanders into the kitchen looking to fill their cup. He hopes you don’t feel like you have to stay with him, tries to figure out a way to let you know you can go without making you think that’s what he wants.

San wants the opposite, wants you to stay and talk to him all night, pay attention to him and no one else, but he also doesn’t want you to feel trapped. He’s nowhere close to a plan when your roommate rounds the corner, followed closely by a whining Wooyoung and a silently suffering Yeosang. San can tell by the corners of Yeo’s mouth that Woo’s been badgering him for at least fifteen minutes already and bites his lips to stifle the chuckle, knowing from the many times he’s been in Yeosang’s shoes that the last thing he needs is someone laughing at him.

Your roommate rolls her eyes and shoves a cup in Wooyoung’s gesticulating hands before telling him to shut the fuck up and take a drink, letting her focus shift to you and San once Wooyoung falls silent. He straightens up as best he can, feeling weirdly exposed as her gaze volleys between the two of you and hoping he passes whatever test she’s obviously putting him through.

He must because she moves on to her brother after a short thirty seconds of agony, shouting a goodbye and dragging him from the room with his elbow held tightly in her grasp. Yeosang had escaped in the meantime and Wooyoung ran after him as soon as he noticed his absence, which left you and San alone in the kitchen again.

The thumping music dulls to a low hum as you catch his gaze and step over, your hand resting next to his on the counter. He’s not sure what exactly you’re doing but you’re close enough for him to feel your body heat, and it’s all San can do to stay still and let you get closer. He’s blinking too much, he knows, probably has the dumbest look on his face, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

You’re only inches from him now and you smell so good and you’re so fucking pretty, and San knows he’d give anything just to feel you. The desperation is starting to claw its way up his throat as want settles deep in his stomach, his jeans tightening before he even has the chance to beg his body to stay calm.

He doesn’t think you can tell but he’s scared nonetheless, terrified that you’ll notice and think he’s a perv and never want to speak to him or see him again and he’ll get super depressed and fall behind in his classes and get kicked off the soccer team and lose his scholarsh-

“Do you wanna go up to your room? It’s getting a bit crowded down here,” you propose, your eyebrows raised and a vulnerable look in your eyes.

Up to his…? Oh, he must look sick or something. That’s much better than the alternative though, so he responds, “Yeah, um, I probably should go upstairs, I’m getting a bit tired.”

Your face falls and you step back, the vulnerability shuttering into a blankness he’s never seen before, and it occurs to San that that wasn’t what you meant at all.

“OH! Oh. Uhm, you meant us… together? Like we both go to my room? Together?” San clarifies frantically, a hand falling to cover yours on the counter before it can slip off.

“Yeah, San, I meant we should go up together,” you confirm with a small, breathy laugh.

He can feel his dimples creasing his cheeks and wishes he could smile at you with anything but the most obvious crush of all time, but he knows it’s hopeless at this point. It’s been months now, months of seeing you in class and around campus, at parties and games, and feeling the you-shaped cavity in his chest grow and grow and grow.

He’s pretty sure it’s starting to fill as you pull him up the stairs. He tries to ignore the catcalling of your shared friends, knowing you probably just want to talk or something, but his eyes catch on the movement of your hips as you climb and now all he can think about is what they’d feel like between his hands. That’s not exactly a new train of thought for San but he’s usually able to keep it under control when he’s with you, and he almost feels like he’s voluntarily walking into the lion’s den as you enter his room and he closes the door.

It’s not too messy at least, just some folded laundry on the bed and his books spread out on his desk. He’d changed his sheets yesterday morning and there’s nothing embarrassing out as far as he can see, except for his printed Overwatch stats but he’s not sure you’d recognize them anyway, so it should be fine.

Everything should be fine, so why is San’s heart trying to break out of his rib cage right now?

It only gets worse when you plop down on his bed with a bounce, folding your hands in your lap and looking up at him expectantly.

“Uh, do you want, like, a blanket or something?” San offers as he looks around the room in an effort to avoid your gaze. It doesn’t work very well - his room isn’t all that big and he can’t stop his eyes from snapping back to you every other second. You look on with a small smile, your face softening before you gently pat the spot next to you.

He surreptitiously rubs his clammy palms on his jeans, tugging them down to allow himself a little more room (just in case) and sitting carefully on the comforter beside you. He’d left over a foot of space, but his mattress sinks in the middle and he finds himself much closer to you than he’d meant to be. You don’t look like you mind, the corners of your lips perking up and one leg lifting to fold on the bed as you turn to face him.

San scrambles to figure out what to say, how to break the ice, though he has a sneaking suspicion he’s the only one who feels like there’s ice to break.

“So, how’s your studying goi-” San starts, but you cut him off.

“San, can I be honest with you? Like, really honest?” You ask, the only sign of your nervousness being the lip bitten between your teeth.

He glances down at the hand you placed on his knee, his cheeks glowing with heat as he stutters, “Y-Yeah, of course you can.”

You take a deep breath and begin, “Well, we’ve been friends for a while, right?”

He nods, opening his mouth to tell you how much your friendship means to him but closing it with a snap when you breathe out, “Hold on, please, I’ll never be able to tell you if I don’t say it all at once.”

San nods again, pointedly pursing his lips as he waits with bated breath.

You break eye contact for a second and when your eyes return to his, they’re brimming with anxious energy. He wishes he could reassure you, but you’d asked him not to speak and he’s also probably more nervous than you right now. Honestly, he kind of wants to make up some excuse and flee the room, the house, the city, because he thinks he knows what you’re about to say.

You’re about to tell him you know he’s in love with you, and that you’re sorry but you don’t feel the same way, and probably also that you have a crush on Seonghwa or Yunho. He wouldn’t blame you, they’re handsome and smooth and don’t get heart palpitations when you talk to them, and they’re not vir-

“San, are you okay? Did you hear anything I just said?” You question, pulling him out of his head and pulling his focus back to you.

“I didn’t, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “Please, tell me again?”

Your face crumples before you cover it with both hands and whine, “God, I don’t know if I can do it again, once was hard enough.”

“No, no, no, please don’t cry, please, do you want me to cry? I’ll cry too, if it helps,” San begs as he wraps his fingers around your wrists and pulls, uncovering your face only to have you stubbornly tuck your chin against your shoulder.

“I’m not crying, San, I’m embarrassed.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because I didn’t think it would be this hard to tell you I have feelings for you! I almost did it in the kitchen but you looked so nervous, and I assumed it was just the crowd so I thought, ‘Oh, maybe we should go upstairs, that should be easier’, and then it wasn’t easier! It was harder, and now I have to do it again!”

You groan in defeat and fall backwards on his bed, your eyes welling with frustrated tears and your arms crossing over your chest. San sits there, static ringing in his ears and your half-shouted confession running through his brain. It takes him longer than it should to process your words but as soon as he does, he flops down next to you like all of his strings have been cut.

San feels drunk, or high, or something, as he stares over at you open-mouthed.

“You have feelings for me? Like… romantic feelings? Are you sure?”

Your head tilts to the side, your suspicious glare shifting into an expression of incredulity as you realize he’s serious. He flinches at the soft smack you land on his shoulder but grins when you start poking and pinching at the muscle with your fingers.

“Yes, San, I’m sure I have romantic feelings for you,” you affirm with only a bit of impatience, avoiding his eyes and pressing your fingertips into his pecs.

You seem kind of dejected and it occurs to him that he hasn’t reciprocated yet, that you don’t know he feels the same way, and he could kick himself for fucking this up so badly. He doesn’t know how to fix this, what to say to make you understand why he’s so nervous, why he struggles so much with you.

Instead of something normal, San blurts out, “I’m fully in love with you.”

Oh no. Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

He clenches his eyes shut and rolls away from you with a groan, curling up as small as he can as the shame roils in his belly. The party rages downstairs, sounds floating in under the door and growing louder in the silence of his bedroom.

“We’re kind of a disaster, huh?” You giggle as you shuffle closer, one arm wrapping around his waist and your knees notching in behind his.

San tenses up before relaxing completely, turning under your arm and tugging you closer with a hand on your waist.

“Yeah, honestly, I’ve never… done this before,” he admits, forcing himself to hold your gaze as his fingers anxiously drum your side. “Are you really okay with me being in love with you?”

Your radiant smile could blind him and he instinctively mirrors you, his shy grin growing and his other arm sliding beneath you to pull you into his chest as you sigh, “Sannie, I’m more than okay with you being in love with me. I love you too, I was just being coy because I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“Seriously?!”

San barely catches your nod before he’s surging forward and pressing his lips to yours, still smiling too wide for it to be much of a kiss.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I should have asked you if I could do that. I’ve just wanted to kiss you for literally months,” he exhales against your mouth, already aching to do it again.

“Don't apologize, San, you can kiss me. I want you to kiss me,” you whisper, breathing in shakily as he closes the distance.

His lips meet yours and it’s like everything inside him settles and riots at the same time. Soft, sweet affection wars with heady desire and as you deepen the kiss, the need grows. San is doing his best to contain himself, swallow the mortifying moans and gasps and whimpers that fight to escape from his mouth to yours, but it’s so difficult when this is the farthest he’s ever gone and it’s happening with you, of all people.

He breaks away with a gasp, trying to catch his breath and calm himself down before he does anything to further embarrass himself, like cumming in his pants just from a little kissing.

“You know how I said that I’ve never done this before?”

You nod with a hum, trailing kisses down his cheek and along his jawline before pressing your soft lips to his pulse and sucking gently. He hiccups in a breath, cringing slightly because he knows you can feel how fast his heart is beating, feel how nervous and exhilarated you make him.

“I meant like… I’ve never done any of this. Ever. You were kind of… my first kiss,” San whispers, embarrassment stealing his voice as your mouth freezes on his neck.

You draw back to stare at him, your eyes calculating and your brows furrowed.

“How is that even possible? You’re so sweet and smart and hot and your shoulders are so broad.”

San’s ears warm as he stumbles through his answer, “I just never had time. I had to work really hard in high school to get my scholarship and now I have to work to keep it. Plus, it didn’t seem all that important. I figured it would just happen when it happened.”

“That makes sense, you are busy most of the time,” you agree, cupping his face and tracing your thumb over his cheekbone. The contact sends tingles down his spine, his cheek instantly dropping into your palm before a question pops into his head.

“Wait, what do my shoulders have to do with this?”

“San, come on, your shoulder to waist ratio is insane, you’re like a sexy Dorito,” you respond as if it should be obvious.

“And you’re into that?” He asks, his confusion evident.

“Yes, have you ever seen yourself from the back? And when you have your jersey on and you’re all sweaty and out of breath…”

Your eyes roll back as you moan dramatically, obviously more in jest than seriousness, but it makes San’s dick twitch in his suddenly tight jeans all the same. It was almost too much just hearing that you love him too, and he’s not sure how to function now that he knows you think about him like this.

He realizes you’re pressed up against him more than he thought you were, the heat of your body radiating into his even through your clothes, which must mean you can feel the length pushing at his zipper.

Judging by your smirk, you definitely can, but before he can even think to feel ashamed, you push your hips into his and sink your free hand into his hair.

“We’ll take this at your pace. You just have to tell me how slow or fast you wanna go,” you assure him, your eyes honest, your tone serious.

San doesn’t take long to think through his response, knowing he’s been ready for this since he met you.

“Fuck slow, let’s go fast. I want as much of you as you’ll let me have,” he answers as he pushes you to lay flat on the bed with the hand on your waist. The other hand wraps around the back of your neck and pulls you up into a searing kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip with only a little insecurity.

You gasp against his mouth, the sound and sensation dizzying yet intensely gratifying. He pulls away to send you a smirk of his own and continues, “You may have to help me, though, show me what to do, how to make you feel good. Is that okay?”

Beaming up at him with whole galaxies in your eyes, you tell him, “It’s more than okay. In fact, I think you’re about to become my favorite student.”

(You're already his favorite teacher)

AN: i wrote this to hurt my bestie's feelings, i hope it works @sluttywonwoo (even tho i know you'll wait to read until i post part two

hoping to put part two up tomorrow or friday!!

im working on part two i promise 😩

PART TWO

please please please reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! feedback is my lifeblood

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pics by @ parkhoonah

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devourable · 1 year

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CAN WE GET ABRAHAM NSFW HCS?!!!!!?!?!?!?! I wanna tie him down and lick him…. Although that might be to much for his little holy self

you can! ... to both of those statements HAKDGAJHD. finally someone asked for this,, been needing an excuse to flesh out this part of him 😫🤌

nsfw below the cut! MDNI! 🖤

⛪ the church boy | abraham atkins [ nsfw ]

· first things first : this boy is a V I R G I N. literally his only sex ed is the terrible bible school sanctioned sex ed that basically told him that even just thinking anything impure would guarantee his damnation. he never got 'the talk,' and honestly never needed it before; so you can imagine the stress he's under when he meets his darling and experiences arousal for basically the first time. he probably thought he was possessed the first time he got hard and literally would try to pray it away.

· if you aren't the type to initiate, expect a long wait before anything beyond holding hands and MAYBE a chaste kiss to happen because abe doesn't know where to begin when it comes to sex. he's totally clueless and needs to be at least guided a lot of the way.

· honestly, though, sex with him can go one of two ways: he becomes a complete doll and allows (wants) you to do whatever you want with him, or he becomes a total jackrabbit who can't stop once he starts. it all depends on how you treat him honestly.

· you can ✨ absolutely ✨ tie him down and lick him. he's very, VERY into denial and being edged. in a weird way it allows him to not think of himself as THAT much of a sinner; he technically didn't do anything wrong if he doesn't cum or if you're doing things to him, and you still get to enjoy yourself! win-win!

· he's pretty vocal; he whimpers and begs sooo much. it's a combination of him expressing how good he feels and apologizing to *** for committing such sins. he promises he'll be good (though whether he's telling you that or saying it in a prayer is up for debate).

· his favorite position would either be a position that allows him to feel like he's being 'used' (definitely into the reverse mating press) or a position that allows him to move freely (like doggy).

· he's very shaky when it comes to aftercare, but he does his best; he sort of instinctively knows that he needs to take care of you after sex. he can grapple with how he's gonna justify giving in to his desires after you're all settled down 😌

#⛪️ abraham atkins #lovesick | ocs #yandere x reader #yandere boy #yandere x oc #yandere x you #inbox | anons #yandere nsft #yandere smut #yandere lemon

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prettyboypistol · 5 months

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TF2 Sniper x M!Reader || Fucking Around, Finding Out +18

[Predator-Prey] ["Spontaneous" Sex] [Established Relationship] [Mutual Masturbation]

Mundy always had a mean streak. He watched you, stalked you from the shadows, and eventually, he caught you. He pushed you against the wall with no room between you two- his breath was a warm welcome against the cold winter wind of the outdoors and the unpleasant freeze of the metal on your back.

"Now, what do we have here, hm?" Mundy laughed darkly, his deep tone ringing along your ears as his comment left your cheeks somehow pinker than the cold did. "Did the little jackrabbit run out of room to escape?"

You struggled against his hold, yet his grip on your wrists against your sides and his sharp hips against your own told you that you weren't going anywhere until Sniper let you.

A rough kiss stopped you from speaking, his audaciously possessive moves of his tongue ravaging your mouth as his hips pushed deeper against you. Even with all the layers of thick fleece pants, you felt the erection pressed against you. God, he was hot when he owned you.

Needy hands eventually left your wrists as Mundy explored your neck and chest, staking his claim on you. The little tremors in Mundy's legs told you all you needed to know about how excited he was. Mundy loved the idea of overwhelming you, pressing you against an alley wall and fucked by a horny and vicious beast until his needs were satiated. You jumped at the suggestion immediately and planned a day. All you had to do was look hot and let Mundy take you.

"Christ love, you're gonna make me shoot in my pants." Sniper huffed as his frantic needy thrusts against your pelvis only made Sniper more and more lust drunk. You knew how your boyfriend liked to play games. He wanted you to fight him and make him earn his fuck from you. So, you bit him on the neck rather sharply.

That got him going.

He shoved down your pants and got to his knees and swallowed your dick as roughly as he could. You could feel his throat reject the intrusion, yet he powered through it as the hot and tight sensation flooded your senses. An experimental thrust got your hips a bruising grasp and a thud against the metal of the storage unit as Mundy fucked his face on you.

Mundy loved to be rough with himself- especially when it came to taking you in any way he could. Be it riding you so deep that he felt it in his lungs or as he sucked your dick while tears streamed down his face from the jaw pain, Mundy loved that bit of shocking pain with his pleasure. And hey, if you man loved it, who were you to stop your little masochist?

It was a matter of moments before you felt a warm churning in your stomach, a slight warning that you were going to cum. You whimpered out a tiny gasp and immediately Sniper removed himself and pressed himself fully against you. Every inch of your exposed skin was overwhelmed by the smell and feeling of Mundy. He pressed his newly exposed cock against you and wrapped his hand around both with an arhythmic beat.

"Why'd you have to go around like that?" Sniper growled as he revelled in your shallow breaths and quiet noises. "Looking like that, you were just begging for me to ruin you."

"So what if I was?" You spat back, as you only fuelled Sniper's fire.

"What a goddamn whore." He responded as his breath stuttered, his hand moved faster and became tighter. A choked out noise came from Sniper's throat was the only warning you got before his cum painted your shirt and left a claiming mess across your lower abdomen. It wasn't long before you followed suit as you bucked your hips into Mundy's hand as you came, which gave Mundy a similar stain to what he left you.

Breathlessly, you both shared a sickly sweet kiss.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #fanfiction #tf2 sniper #tf2 x reader #sniper x reader #sniper x m!reader #sniper x male reader #tf2 sniper x reader #suggestive #tf2 smut #tf2 x male reader #prettyboy pistol

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dracognition · 3 months

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I absolutely adore your writing!!! The way you write Drarry is so comforting and delicious. Would it be possible for you to do either 67 (Character in peril) or 27 (Sick/Injured fic) with 61 (Love Confession)?

67: character in peril + 61: love confession send me a trope mash-up!

They were going to die.

Harry knew it as surely as he knew his own name. They were locked in a small space, surrounded on all sides: the Mediwizards were a few minutes away yet, and even if they got here they wouldn't be able to make it through the blockade outside. It was a possibility every Auror knew they'd have to face and a possibility Harry'd been facing since he was eleven. They took down the largest cross-breed smuggling ring in all of Europe. He and Malfoy would probably have their names permanently engraved in the DMLE. It was an all-around success, other than the dying thing, so it was—it was fine.

Malfoy's eyes were wide. He was pressed up against Harry, his wand trembling just barely in his hand. Harry could practically hear his jackrabbiting pulse—could see the thin pale shape of his pinched face. "This is it, then," he said. His voice was pitched barely above a whisper.

"Not a bad way to go out." Harry tried for a grin and didn't quite make it there. "Finally got the glory you were always talking about, yeah?"

Malfoy laughed: a choked, humourless thing. "They're going to put a picture of us up in the halls."

"Next to the Dumbledore portrait."

"Ugh," said Malfoy. "Bit ironic, isn't it?"

"You've earned your keep, I think," said Harry absentmindedly. Terribly, unwisely, his attention was focused not on their impending doom—not on the footsteps making their way to the cupboard they'd gotten trapped in, not the bloody death that'd surely follow—but on the small unhappy curve of Malfoy's mouth, the way his hair fell into his eyes.

This is it, he thought, and then he thought: fuck it.

"You can push me away," he said roughly by way of warning, and then he pulled Malfoy into a desperate, hungry kiss. For a moment, Malfoy was entirely still—and then he sprung back, burying his hands in Harry's hair, biting his lip and groaning when Harry made a small noise in response.

"I've," he said around a pant, dropping kisses to Harry's upper lip, his chin, the line of his throat, then, "I'm—I love you. Thought you should know before we—"

"I thought," Harry said breathlessly. "I thought—I never knew—" Distantly, he heard the footsteps quickening, getting closer, and the last thing he'd feel would be Malfoy's mouth hot on his jaw, Malfoy's words plucking at his heart, and maybe this really wasn't a bad way to go out—

"Hm," said Hermione as the door burst open, her mouth doing that thing it did whenever she wanted to smile but was trying very hard to look stern. "Glad to see you two are so focused on the job."

Draco straightened, flushed pink, and staggered to his feet. His robes were rumpled and his tie was askew. Harry was torn between pulling him back down and finding a hole to crawl into and die. "If you hadn't noticed," he said, coolly, "we did the job already. It's finished."

Hermione's lips were still pursed, but when Harry gazed beseechingly at her and asked, "Can we go home and do all the paperwork tomorrow?", she openly laughed and waved them off with a congratulations.

"So," said Harry after a few minutes spent shuffling off the scene in silence. "About that thing you said earlier—"

"Urgh." Malfoy wrenched his face away. "We can just forget about it, please."

"But—" Harry paused, gripped Malfoy's wrist just to have something to hold onto. "But I don't want to."

Malfoy stared at him for three seconds. He was perfectly motionless, his expression as blank as a still pond. He said: "You didn't say it back, over there. So—"

"I thought the kiss was enough of a signal," Harry said drily. Something rippled over Malfoy's face, but it was gone before Harry could read it, and he rolled his eyes. "Obviously I love you too, you idiot; why else would I do that?"

"Us mere mortals don't dare ask why you do anything, Potter," said Malfoy superciliously, but he was smiling, and Harry smiled back.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #hp #writing #mine #ask #thought of another shortfic i could write using the other prompt you listed so look out for that :P #thank you for the ask anon (and the lovely compliment! so honoured)!!

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turtlecleric · 3 months

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Wooooo self-indulgence yayyyyy

bay!raph x fem reader, angst and hurt/comfort, cw: implied past sexual assault, panic attack, dissociation, trigger words, if I need to add more warnings please do let me know (sorry to the people on the tag list, as always feel free to ignore)

---

When Raph pulls you into his room, presses your back against the door, and buries his face in your neck, you can't help but giggle like a fucking teenager. You feel his hot breath against your skin as he speaks, and it makes you shiver, makes your smile widen so much your cheeks hurt.

“Been waitin’ all day to getcha to myself, doll.”

The earnest excitement in his voice makes you melt. Large hands trail up and down your sides, massaging and kneading, and then his lips find yours. You sigh into his kiss, slow and sweet like honey. The barest glide of his tongue across yours, the low rumble in his chest that manages to vibrate your mouth just a bit. It's driving you a little crazy, to be honest. You can't get over the fact that he can get you this worked up just from kissing.

Too soon, he pulls his mouth away and goes back to nuzzling into your neck. His hands tighten on your waist before one comes up to cup your breast over your shirt. You two have only gotten past kissing a couple of times before, so it pulls a loud, surprised squeak out of you.

Raph's other hand comes up quickly to cover your mouth, and your smile slips away as your eyes widen and your heart stutters in your chest. He murmurs into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, but the chill it sends through you this time isn't a good one.

“Shhh, you gotta keep quiet, baby girl. We're-”

No.

His next words are lost on you. There's a roaring static in your mind as sick panic takes over. It blurs your vision, distorts what you're hearing. You can't focus. You can't breathe. You can't move.

You're not there. Raph isn't him. Don't- don't slip back there, don't- no no no no-

Someone is standing over you. You're dizzy. Silent. As still as a statue. You feel their hand lift from your mouth, but you don't react.

Keep quiet. Keep quiet. Keep quiet.

You're aware of your heartbeat jackrabbiting against your ribs. You're aware that the person is talking to you again. You're aware of the barbed wire that's wrapping around your lungs and tightening. Tightening.

Keep quiet.

---

When Raph lifts his head to look at you, he freezes.

Something is… very, very wrong.

Your eyes are glossy, the faraway look causing alarm bells to blare in his head. You're not even blinking. Silent tears start to track down your face, and when he realizes how tense you are under his touch, he pulls away immediately. Raph says your name, tentative and quiet, and when you don't react, that's when he really truly starts to panic.

He says your name again, a little louder. You don't respond. Again. His hand hovers in the air between you, unsure and confused and fuck, what happened? What did he do? What does he do?

Carefully, he tries to take your limp hand in his. The moment he makes contact with your skin, you whimper and jolt back against the door in a full-body flinch. He yanks his hand back and watches in horror as you start to visibly tremble. The sight actually makes him nauseous, has him backing away from you and trying to make himself as non-threatening as possible.

What happened?

Are you… are you actually scared of him? The thought lodges his heart in his throat. Has his chest aching with something like betrayal, but no that… doesn't actually make sense?

“I'm not gonna hurtcha, sweetheart. You know that right?”

You don't respond. God, what has he done?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You probably didn't want him to touch you like that. He went too far too quickly. You- you probably want him to go and are too scared to say- but he's stuck! You're blocking the door! He can't- he doesn't want to move you so he can leave, but he doesn't want to keep scaring you, but he- but, but no, it still doesn't make sense. If you were actually scared of him, you wouldn't have been- this whole time with- what the fuck is going on?

He's stuck. Well and truly stuck. He can't talk to you, he can't touch you, he can't give you any more space than he already is. He's terrified, terrified, of making things worse.

So he waits.

---

Awareness returns to you slowly, and control returns even slower. It burns when you blink. Your muscles ache, exhaustion weighing you down like chains. It's harder than it should be to raise your hand and wipe at your eyes, to keep yourself standing upright.

You realize all at once what happened, and the mortification of it happening in front of Raphael has you covering your face in hot shame.

Wait. Raph. Where..?

You lift your head from your hands to look around the room. When you spot him, your heart clenches painfully in your chest. He's sitting in the furthest corner of the room, hunched in on himself, his arms circled around his knees and his head ducked low.

Making himself small.

You swallow, trying to shake away the fog in your brain enough to go to him. Your legs feel like jelly, but you manage it without falling. When you kneel and place a hand on his arm, his head jerks up in surprise, and you see that he's been… crying.

He's talking before you can open your mouth, each word a knife between your ribs, each break in his voice taking the knife and twisting.

“I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I know that I'm- I guess I just thought- I'm sorry. I went too far, I didn't- I shoulda- I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry-”

“Hey,” you croak, wincing when he flinches at your wrecked voice. “No, Raphie. No. That was… not your fault, okay? It's a me problem. I should've told you- uh. There's just certain things that can…” You sigh, not yet thinking clearly enough to have this conversation.

You mentally kick yourself. You should've told him before it ever became an issue, but. When people find out, they… look at you differently. You wanted to hold onto that normalcy a little longer. Put it off just a little more. But the look in his eyes - confusion, fear, regret - it hurts to see. Hurts to know that this could've been avoided if you'd sucked it up and warned him, told him the things that set you off from the beginning.

You're too tired to think straight. Still shaking. But you know he deserves an explanation.

“Can we… can we just…” Brain fog. Hell man. Focus, come on. Your hand on his arm tightens. “I'm not scared of you. I love you. I love you so, so much. It's not that you- I mean I- I promise I'm going to explain, but right now I…” The tears threaten to spill over again, and the frustration tangles in your chest like so much fishing line. You're fucking this up, you know you are. You really need to sleep. To get to a point where your brain can actually do its job. Are you even making any sense? Is he going to get fed up with you and- no, stop. Stop it. Raph is still staring at you, waiting, waiting. You try again. “I just need some time. Then I can explain. Okay?”

Raph's lips thin, his brows pinching together as he watches your face. He looks like he's in agony as he does so, but he unfurls a bit. Slowly, carefully, he reaches his hand toward your face. It stops just before he makes contact, and the hesitancy, the worry that radiates off of him, compels you to lean forward and press your cheek into his palm. Your tiny smile seems to bolster him, and after a moment he speaks.

“Whatever you need. Anything, okay? Anything.”

You close your eyes, raising a hand to press against the back of his hand cradling your face. He's so… tender. It makes the tears spill over again, makes something snap in your chest like a rubber band pulled too far. Your body flashes hot with embarrassment as you dissolve into ugly, keening sobs, but when you lean toward Raphael he's quick to wrap you in a gentle embrace.

He holds you close, letting you weep into his plastron and hold onto him tightly. He doesn't move a muscle, doesn't shush you, doesn't say anything at all. It's unusual for him, but then you realize. He's still terrified of doing whatever it was that set you off again. The thought has you surging up to wrap your arms around his neck, and he lets you. You try to tell him you love him again. It comes out barely intelligible, but he understands you anyway.

“I love you, too,” he whispers. After a long moment, he continues. “No matter what, okay?”

Your throat feels like it's stuck in a vice. Like you couldn't possibly push past it to speak. Somehow, you do. “Okay.”

---

Tag list: @yorshie @luckycharms1701 @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @thelaundrybitch @mxalmighty

#turtlecleric scrolls #bay!raph #tw: sa

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yaekiss · 10 months

Text

꩜ Room Content: GN! Dom! Reader x AMAB! Male! Sub! Sydney the Faithful, no gendered terms for reader, jerking Sydney off in a cinema, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: This has been on my mind for so long, ugh the grip Sydney has on my mind is maddening. Might also do a corrupted Sydney version after this who knows teehee :3c

It was meant to be something relaxing. At least that's what Sydney had in mind when he agreed to a movie date with you at the cinema.

It's been a while since he's seen one so he thought that it'd be fun to watch one together. (He was even the one who suggested watching the newest romance movie after hearing about it from Robin.)

So how did it ever end up like this?

Maybe he should've paid more attention to Robin talking about the movie because when the beginning of a sex scene starts to play on the screen, he flushes instantly, hands shooting up and shielding his face to prevent him from seeing the lewdness on display.

His sudden actions catch your eye and you turn to take in the delicious view of your lover trying to tune out the raunchy moans from the actors, eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed so cutely that you just want to eat him up ♡

Your hand finds its way over to the edge of his pants, pulling the band before letting it go, snapping against his skin. A squeak escapes him as his eyes fly open, surprised by your actions.

"W-what are you doing?" Sydney's voice is shaky, volume slightly above a whisper.

"I'm just helping distract you from the movie, angel. Now quieten down, you wouldn't want the people to realise, would you?"

Worried, he surveys the other cinemagoers around the both of you and breaths a sigh of relief when no one else heard the squeak he let out. Turning back to face you, he notices the hunger in your eyes and the blush on his cheeks deepen.

His hands are still held up in front of him so you take the opportunity to slip your fingers past his waistband, teasing at the rim of his boxers. The sensation of your fingers on the skin of his hips has him quivering but he makes no move to stop you from taking this even further. You press on, dipping into his boxers and when you come into contact with his already half-hard cock, he jolts in his seat, biting down on his lip to muffle any noises from him.

Leaning closer, you take his cock into your hand, gradually stroking him until he's hard and dripping. His self-restraint wavers when your nails glide across his slit, hips bucking up with a sharp gasp. Alarmed, his eyes dart around the surroundings, heart jackrabbiting in his chest at the prospect at getting caught. Working him up to his orgasm, he's squirming in his seat, moving one of his hands down to bite down on to stifle his moans as he loses himself in the pleasure you're showing him.

A harsh tug and a scratch along the underside of his dick is what tips him over the edge, he doubles over and his hands immediately shoot to grasp at your wrist so that he can rut into your hand as pure euphoria overtakes him. There's a wet patch growing on the fabric of his pants but he's too caught up in the bliss to notice.

After he rides out his high, he slumps back against the backrest, boneless and panting as he tries to process everything that just happened. Retracting your hand covered in his spend, you hold it before him, expectant. Hesitant, he slowly licks away his cum. He's slightly put off by the taste of his own cum at the start but determined, he carries on until your hand is completely cleaned. Giving your fingers one last suck, he pulls away, face still hot from arousal. As thanks, you grab his face and pull him in for a heated kiss that leaves him melting in his seat, his brain mushy. The only thing he can think of is you, you, you. + + Love

Well, he can't lie, he supposes the movie was relaxing in a way! - - Sydney's Purity

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

#📜.qi writings #📜.qi rambles #degrees of lewdity #dol #dol x reader #dol smut #sub dol #sydney the faithful #dol sydney #dol sydney x reader #dol sydney smut #sub dol sydney #dom reader #so normal for him.#so so so super duper extremely normal.#still trying to get a hang of writing for sydney so lmk if anything is too ooc 💀#sydney train pulling into brainrot station choo choo 🚂

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greyskyflowers · 4 months

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I'm always on a Visored/Ichigo kick but it's been especially bad lately. Sooo have some little hollow instinct AU?? plot bunnies that won't get bigger than this but still wanted to hop around.

Is it trauma, power dynamics, or hollow instincts? The world may never know.

The world does actually know and it's all three.

⚠️ Some strange relationship and/or combination of Visored/Ichigo/Kisuke because that's my jam and I'm partying alone. ⚠️

💀💀💀💀

Ichigo doesn't know what he looks like when he's like this. No one else knows either, which is a good thing because people have destroyed and conquered worlds for less.

Long limbs sprawled, belly down and back exposed. There's a blanket drapped over his hips more for the comforting weight than any warmth. His tan skin glows in the low lighting and his hair looks like soft embers.

He smells like them. He looks like theirs. He's sleeping in their space. It hits a lot of things they knew would appeal to them but not to this extent.

He's taken their advice to heart, about getting familiar with the new hollow instincts and just do what feels right. At least until he's able to separate the things that are more him and more hollow.

It's driving them nuts. He's shameless and he doesn't even know it.

He presses his face against their faces and throats, the bridge of his nose pressing against the underside of their jaws and nuzzling real quick before darting off. The scent of him clinging to them and the submissive gesture, ducking to press under their jaw, is addicting.

It's a intimate greeting, one they don't even really give to each other but Ichigo uses it multiple times a day. A happy, warm and loving gesture that says hihelloimhereandyourehereandimveryhappy each time he does it. They kind of dread him figuring out how personal it is because he'll stop.

He makes himself small when he's anxious or scared, when he lets himself act his age for once. He holds himself well, they'll give him that. It's hard to tell unless he wants you to know but there are signs they pick up on, along with Kisuke's hints.

It's easier to be vulnerable at night, when it's dark and it doesn't seem so bad to seek out warmth and comfort.

They're particular about sleeping arrangements. They don't like others in the same area as them while they sleep. They puppy pile, as Mashiro happily calls it, not able to fully relax unless they're tangled up with at least 3 other people. The only people in the world they trust completely, with every part of their souls, and Kisuke.

And apparently Ichigo because he slips right in, and not only does he sneak in without kicking off their instincts but gets up against their throats without so much as a twitch from them. He stays above the blankets and avoids the mess of limbs, which is both smart and makes them frown. Desperate for comfort but still holding himself back, he probably would have tried to leave without them noticing if they hadn't woken up

The jackrabbit heartbeat and shaky breathing is what actually wakes them up.

There's a brief moment where everyone kind of freezes as they process what's happening, and then wait to see which one of them will kick him out, which of them will crack first at having a stranger in their space.

But it doesn't happen.

Everything stays silent and still except for the shaky breathing still coming from Ichigo, they swear they can hear feel his heart pounding, and a little keening noise that's so faint they miss it at first. It zips up their spines as soon as they notice, it's like a straight shot of adrenaline and a protective awareness surges in their chests.

They know there's no actual threat, they would have felt it, and they know that the kid just had a nightmare or was thinking too hard and worked himself up. But it doesn't seem like their instincts understand that.

They've never made that sound, not a single one of them ever, and they've made some weird noises. It's a terrible sad, lonely, scared noise and they don't ever want to hear it again.

This all happens in the span of a few minutes, enough for Ichigo to start calming down a little. He's not as tense and his breathing has gotten slower. Not enough to indicate he's asleep yet but he's on his way.

They all squish in closer and Ichigo falls right asleep, his cold nose and wet cheeks pressed into warm skin.

Hollows do not purr like cats, at least in their experience, but they swear to god they all woke up to purring at different times during the night.

💀💀💀💀

Ichigo starts sitting between their legs, most often when he's injured. Not kneeling, although that's a pretty picture, just sitting down so he's bracketed on both sides by their legs, back to them. Safe.

Lisa and Mashiro play with his hair, Lisa mindlessly as she flips through her magazine and Mashiro makes tiny braids before taking them out and starting over.

Kensei doesn't do much, usually puts his elbows on his knees so he's curved protectively over Ichigo. Occasionally rubbing his knuckles on Ichigo's jaw and petting at his throat.

Shinji tries to always keep a hand on him, tangled in his hair, resting on the side of his throat, or brushing against his cheek.

Ichigo doesn't do it often or around other people and they all try to respect that. He has to be Ichigo, strong, stubborn, impossible, and the one people look to.

💀💀💀💀

The thing people forget is that while wounds heal, the body and soul remember.

It can be a lot of strain, going in and out of his human body so frequently, especially when both soul and body are so familiar with stress, bruises and breaks.

Ichigo may heal quicker than most with his hollow and access to good healers but the echoes linger longer than most others. Especially when injuries are made with intention. Wounds from hollows hurt of course, but there's usually not a lot of thought behind it. So the wounds are more random, varying depths and severity.

Wounds by people shinigami, bounts, quincy, etc are more precise. They know where to aim to make it devastating, agonizing, and life changing.

Ichigo has fought a lot of people and it shows.

He bares his burdens and more in front of people like he's fine. He smiles and laughs, meets all the demands for fights with his own wild grin, moves like he's never had a injury in his life and people don't question it.

There's an area of his chest, and his back, that burn. A few spots of a constant and deep heat that make breathing feel hard.

His shoulders itch and ache, the kind that feels like it's down under the muscle. Nothing helps and lifting his arms is difficult.

A long, dragging catch following the lines of his lower ribcage. Breathing too deeply makes it burn and crackle in sharp pain, short and shallow breaths aren't satisfying but it keeps the pain manageable.

Headaches from countless concussions, a sore jaw from all the times it's been broke, fingers and toes that don't feel right anymore and ache terribly in the cold.

It's not all the time, just occasionally. Things like going back and forth too many times from his body, extreme temperatures, new wounds over the old, etc all cause flare ups.

He's too young to have so many aches.

They're protective over those spots. They can't and won't interfere with his fights unless it's critical but they keep an eye on wounds in those areas. They frown and scare off people when Ichigo starts to flinch from heavy arms being thrown around his shoulders or careless jabs in his side.

Sometimes their old wounds flare up and Ichigo scowls and bares teeth at everyone until the aches goes away.

#bleach #visored #ichigo kurosaki #ichigo x visored #visoreds #kisuke urahara #visored x ichigo x kisuke #uraichi #visored x ichigo #ichigo x everyone tbh #hollow instict au??#going to drag all of you into poly andor qp visored hell with me #i like my characters feral and my relationship dynamics questionable #reaping souls with greyskyflowers

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darklydeliciousdesires · 5 months

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The Art of Pleasure, Part One - A Dom!John Shelby/Reader Two Part Story.

A little modern-day version, Dom!John, besties? Alright. Have at it!

(GIF credit - @bonniebirddoesgifs)

Words - 2,093

Warnings - Dom/sub dynamic, smut below the cut, minors DNI!

The art of pleasure is painted differently by everyone, no matter what tools they wield in their creation, it differs from artist to artist. Just as long as you remain the canvas, though, you’d let John Shelby create whatever the hell he liked upon you. You trust him enough to.

This is imperative when stepping into the bedroom with a dom. The trust must be there.

Some doms are hard, some soft. John is the perfect embodiment of both. He can push you to your boundaries effortlessly, yet you never feel unsafe with him. The razors edge of his balefulness is always softened by the tiniest touch of honey.

The room you stand in alone has been prepared, everything in place, only the man himself missing as you stand, swathed in shadows and candlelight at the window. You sip upon a whiskey from the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black, the ice crackling in the glass, the feeling of all the hairs at the back of your neck standing up when you hear the door open.

Your heart begins to jackrabbit, feeling him walk through the room, your back prickling pleasantly as it anticipates his body to arrive with you there at the window, looking out over the city lights below. Your skin gains heat as his hand slides around to stroke your throat, long, elegant fingers curling, his mouth pressing a kiss to your shoulder before his tongue glides up your neck.

“You look fucking amazing.”

Your body hums with the pleasure of his glorious praise. “Thank you, sir.”

“Are you ready to give me exactly what I want?”

“I am.”

You see his reflection in the glass, his grin widening, turning you to face him. “Good.” He hooks his index finger into the D ring upon the front of your rolled steel collar, the ornate choker-style necklace he placed upon you long ago, signifying his rightful ownership. A tug pulls you close to him, John ghosting your mouth with his, tongue darting out to lick your cupid’s bow as he walks backwards towards the bed, seating himself.

You stand obediently, knowing you must be still until he gives his command.

“Down.”

With effortless grace, you drop to your knees before him, the corner of his mouth twitching as he views you, finger still gripped tightly upon your collar. “You know what to do now you’re there, little kitten.”

Indeed, you do. Your routine has been hardwired into you via his instruction, any deviation resulting in punishment. Sometimes though, it’s promise of reprimand that drives your desire with more fuel than your willingness to please. Shifting a little closer to him, your hands run up from his bare feet, over his black denim clad legs, reaching his belt and beginning to unfasten.

“Ah, ah.” His brow furrows, shaking his head. “You know that ain’t the order we undress in, don’t you?”

“I do.”

His thighs widen invitingly as he nods downwards, his eyebrow rising a tiny fraction. “You know what happens when you disobey me. Arrange yourself.” Before you do, he finishes what you began at his belt, unbuckling and pulling it out with a swift tug, waiting expectantly.

The arrangement he spoke of was for you to drape yourself across his thighs, face down, the feeling of his lean muscles pressing taut against your ribs and hips reminding you that his lap is the place you seek, your throne. It is the location where you feel queenly, although he is unquestionably the monarch.

Grasping the lace of your undies, he yanks them, the black material bunching between your bum cheeks, exposing them to the stroke of his fingers. “You’ve been naughty, kitten. For that, you will be punished.”

The sound of his belt buckle rattling as he doubles the leather over sends a bolt through you, John gripping the two ends together, the remaining loop of black hide meeting your bum in a hard smack a moment later.

“No noise,” he instructs after you yelp, two fingers hooking beneath the back of your collar, giving it a little tug. “You’ll take it silently, kitten.” The leather meets your flesh again, leaving a mark behind, the crack of it against your skin building heat at your apex. The sound and the feel of it combine for the richest, darkest thrill.

“Are you done being naughty?”

“For now.”

Your words cause the veil to break just a smidgen, John smirking at you, knowing full well how you thrive upon the reprimands. His face returns to an expressionless façade, nodding as you resume your position knelt between his feet. “You may continue, kitten.”

Reaching for the buttons of his dark grey shirt, you unfasten them carefully, pushing it from his shoulders, your pulse quickening at the sight. You then grasp his jeans, popping each button upon the fly, pulling them from his legs, his boxers to follow.

“Permission to please you with my mouth, sir?”

He reaches for your face, thumb skimming your lower lip, lips that pucker a kiss upon it. “Granted.” With that single word of permission, you move astride him, your bum still stinging, swollen welts forming where you were struck. You begin at his neck, chartering his body with kisses, soft bites and little tongue teases, feeling him hardening against your hip.

You can barely wait to set your mouth to gentle devour upon him, satin encased steel now jutting between your breasts as your tongue glides over the soft ridges of his abdomen, your hands evoking shudders as they stroke over his hips. Finally, your mouth meets his hardness, taking him fully back into your throat, feeling him twitching against your tongue as he grunts low and deep.

“Slow down,” he instructs, a hand fisting in your hair, correction given with a sharp tug. “Don’t be so cock greedy, little kitten. I know it’s the most amazing one you’ve ever seen, but pace yourself.” His arrogance causes a flicker of fire in your chest, because it’s true. John Shelby does possess the greatest cock you’ve ever seen. He’s more girth than length, and for you that is perfect, your mouth gentling on him a little.

Using your lips, you push against the tip of him, teasing his foreskin back, your tongue flicking over the spongy head beneath. He twitches against your lips, your mouth pulsing around him as you suck him slowly yet keenly, evoking his groans. That gravelled rasp; you’d truly do anything to hear it.

“You look so bloody pretty, kitten, with a mouthful of cock. Nearly as pretty as you do when I’m splitting your sweet little cunt open with it,” he praises you with, his fingers still woven tightly in your hair. “I bet that’s what you want more than anything, ain’t it? Want me to lick you wet first though, I bet, suck on your clit until you’re dripping and then fuck you rough. Is that what you want, eh?”

Oh, god. That filthy mouth. It'll be the death of you. “Yes, sir. That’s exactly what I want.”

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do then, beautiful. After I’ve fucked your mouth and made you swallow, though. Turn over.”

You know exactly how he wants you, moving onto your back, propping yourself up on your elbows as he moves to straddle your chest, feeding his cock back between your blowjob-plumped lips, a sigh of exquisite gratification echoing through his throat. “Yeah, that’s it, my baby. You take it like a good girl, every fucking inch.”

His hand once again grasps in your hair, keeping your head still as hips begin to sway, doing exactly as he said he would in fucking your mouth while his other hand moves back to begin gently stroking circles at your clit. “Wet for me already, kitten? Mmm, I like that. I bet you’ve been soaking since I cracked my belt over that beautiful arse of yours though, ain’t you?”

Your mouth is much too full to reply, humming your answer with a wink as the tip of his cock nudges against your throat, saliva beginning to leak from the corners of your lips. Your nails rake over his chest, each thrust against your face becoming a little more forceful, until he’s descended into staccato motions, his orgasm gripping him. With your fingers pinching and twisting upon his nipples, you feel his cock jerk against your tongue before his low groan precedes the spill of cum down your throat.

“Mmm, you took that so well, little kitten,” he praises you, wiping the corners of your mouth with his thumb, chasing the little tear trails from your watering eyes as he smiles down at you. “For that, you get rewarded.”

Drinking his cum back is reward enough as it is, but make no mistake, you would never pass up the delight that is John returning the favour with his mouth. He wastes no time in teasing you with his sinful promise either, kissing his way over your body quickly before settling at your apex.

The first lick parts your petals, a drag of hot velvet laving at you, exploring slowly, nudging your opening until silky wet bathes the tip of his tongue.

“You taste fucking incredible,” he grunts, each lick swirling around, avoiding the epicentre of your longing just enough to make you whine softly, full and needy. He withdraws his mouth, his hand moving to give your sex a little slap, tutting as he shakes his head. “Behave, no whining,” he instructs. “I know exactly what you want, but you have to wait for it.”

“Yes, sir.”

His tongue teases a line up your inner thigh, fingertips gliding over your saturated, puffy folds. “Good girl.”

You bite your lip to prevent any further verbalisations of your utter pent up indignance, knowing that obedience shall see to it that he doesn’t tease you for longer than you can tolerate. He’s pushed you there before, made you beg, but now you know your need surpasses the desire to plead for it.

Those warm, plump lips tease messy, open-mouthed kisses back down the warmth of your leg, sucking little purple welts onto your skin, the tip of his tongue running over the uppermost juncture of your thigh, the muscles beneath bouncing in delight. Once again, each lick bestowed avoids where you burn to feel them, dragging the petals of your cunt, dipping inside you, the honey of your hole bathing his tongue as he circles it before finally, he sweeps its warmth over your aching clit.

Sparks skitter the tighter those licks become, his lips wrapping your bud in a firm suck, eyes finding yours, heavy-lidded and lust blown. His hands stroke adoringly against the soft skin of your upper thighs as he groans, long licks thereafter sending fever-hot pulses through your core.

“Is that what you needed, kitten?”

“Yes, sir. Oh god!”

“Am I the best ever?”

“Mmm, you are, sir. You’re incredible.”

He releases your clit with a slippery pop, gently thumbing the hood back, making it stand out even further to the fever of his mouth. “Correct answer.” You can feel the heat pulling through your veins, your breath hitching as your lungs stutter then still, his tongue beginning to flicker rapidly upon your bud. Crying out, your nerve endings sing a serenade of bliss as they’re stroked against, John sucking you again before repeating it in alternating action.

Your whimpers drive him on, his mouth becoming greedier, the prickle of stubble against where you are tender adding to the thrill of it, tingling heat blooming through you in a bonfire of pleasure. Swells of syrupy warmth roll over your spine as his fingers join his mouth, pushing into the saturated clasp of your cunt and curling, your body jolting as he bestows upon it exactly what it needs.

Your back arches, your sex pressed tight against his face, his tongue wildly lashing at you as his fingers gain momentum, the tempo perfect. Your little cries fill the air as it comes glimmering through you, shining like the sun upon the waves that roll through your core, pushing you to your pulsing, burning unravelling.

“That’s really made you burn for my cock, ain’t it, kitten?” he smirks, moving to kneel before you, hands stroking in tease up and down your still juddering thighs.

“Yes, sir. I need you badly.”

His grin grows, sliding off the bed, grasping two coils of soft, black bondage rope from the bedside table. “You’ll get it eventually, but first, I want you bound.”

Part two coming soon!

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby smut #john shelby x reader #john shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #peaky fucking blinders

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boliv-jenta · 1 year

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Another dirty Din thought under the cut. No minors beyond this point.🔞

As a Foundling himself, Din didn't see Grogu as anything less than family. Still, the urge to breed you constantly itches under his skin. It fills his thoughts every time he fills you. He wants his seed to take so badly. At first, he thought he wanted to grow his clan to fulfil his creed by raising warriors.

It's only when he's balls deep in you, his lips wrapped around your stiff nipple, his hand pressing down on your lower stomach to stop the bucking of your hips from pushing him over the edge, that he realises. He realises that he's aching to see you swollen with his child, your breasts heavy and full. He wants to feel the warmth of the liquid within flowing over his tongue. He wants to worship the raw life giving power of your body.

The longer they doesn't happen, the deeper the itch gets. The thought drives him feral. He takes you every chance he gets. Any way he can. Down on all fours, he jackrabbits into you like a feral dog. Pinning you on your back, his hands roughly pushing your knees up to your chest as he pumps his load inside you, to keep it from spilling out. Fucking you to the point of exhaustion before falling asleep with his length inside you plugging in his spend. Keeping his fingers buried in you afterwards as he thumb builds an orgasm to draw his release deeper.

When the itch gets too much, you visit a doctor. You get a clean bill of health. Din's prognosis is a little less glowing. There's no reason why he can't father a child. It just might take a little time. The doctor even asks if Din has been under any stress lately. Even the reassurance doesn't help. Din sees that you still blame yourself. Even his mutterings of reassurance and praise between kisses don't help. As time passes, Din's itch is taken over by a new one. He wants to lift the weight from your shoulders. When he first suggested a solution, you're taken aback. "Even if they aren't my blood, I'll love them all the same."

The idea grows on you. You have no doubt that Din will love the baby either way and yearn to feel a life growing inside you. The two of you settle on Cobb Vanth as the donor. He's more than happy with the arrangement. There's no room in his life for a child but he has always wondered what a child of his would be like. A simple procedure and you could be carrying a child in no time.

Din should be happy, he is happy. It's just that itch that reappears. The night before the procedure he finally breaks. He tells you everything. "I'm not surprised. You've always been obsessed with filling me. We'll give it more time."

"No, maybe there's another way..?" He needs to see you being filled with the seed that will take, even if he isn't the one doing it.

The soft leather of his gloves creaks as he grips the chair. His erection throbs so hard that he's tempted to touch himself. No, he wants to fuck you when Cobb is done. He wants to add another load to your dripping pussy. The sight before him has him twitching. Too used to having Din know your body like the back of your hand, anticipating every need your body has, you had grown inpatient with Cobb and flipped the two of you over. He grunted every time your hips slammed back down onto his. Din knew what the tight clutch of your heat could do to a man. He knew Cobb was close. The thought of you being filled by another man nearly drove him over the edge. He gripped himself tight as Cobb moaned your name. As his cock swelled in his hand, pride swelled in his chest. That was his riduur making another man lose himself.

Cobb wasn't even out of the room before Din began to fuck you. It was steady, deep and rough. He wanted to drive Cobb's seed deep for it to take root. As soon as the door closed behind him, Din ripped off his helmet. His tongue licked into your mouth. He sucked the air from your lungs. He touched every part of your body he could touch, with his hands and his own body. For the first time in a long time, he was able to just enjoy your body without the pressure crushing his pleasure. He was so confident that you would be carrying his child soon that he let himself relax. His purposeful thrusts dwindled to a gentle roll. He let both your highs build slowly until he couldn't stop himself from filling you with his own cum, wave after wave lapped at your cervix. His hand gripped your neck lightly as he guided you to look at their combined spend dripping out of you. "Look at the pretty mess we made of you."

Months later, when your baby was born, their mop of brown curls and perfect little pout left you with no doubt who the father was.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian

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yanderemommabean · 2 years

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👀 miss ma’am mommabean you have my attention for the yandere cult idea. what’re you thinking, like innocent human comes to live in a new town where unbeknownst to them, everyone’s a werewolf and also in a cult? and somehow, the cult part is more shocking than the wolf part? maybe innocent darling wonders why everyone is so friendly and sweet, only to come across some terrible ritual during a full moon, but by then it’s far too late to escape? 🤔 (also I hope you’re doing well and taking time for yourself btw 💖) -teratalia

Oh man I wish I had a big brain like yours! I imagine the cult is doing a ritual to ask the gods for another mate to join their pack, maybe for their best alpha who's been desperately searching for a lover.

The town is oh so nice to you before the full moon. You're none the wiser, being given gifts, having a bunch of new friends who seem oddly clingy and want to show you off to the hottest bachelor in town, always fawning over how cute you two would be together.

They make sure you have plenty to eat, are never too far from any help (even if you assure them you can handle things just fine! They just want you to know you have a pack- I mean - helpful community!)

The night of the ritual comes, and they're salivating at the idea of finally introducing you to their best alpha. The other alphas want to breed you within an inch of your life, and the omegas want to play with you as you're made into a puddle, but they have to wait their turn.

You're told it's a night of celebration, they never clarify, but you figured it could be a mix of things or simply something you'd find out once you arrive.

You're awed by what they wear, some have flower crowns while others have wolf masks and robes. They all greet you with open, eager arms, and hand you a glass of homemade wine to begin the festivities.

In the midst of all the dancing, fun, and feasting, you begin to feel dizzy. You're all too aware of the main alphas touch on you, possessive and tight as his nails- wait are those claws?!- something is digging into you aggressively when others get too close. He seems impatient, whuffing and grunting when he isn't reassuring you to sit still, that he'll get you whatever it is you need.

You're somehow sitting under the bright moonlight, in the middle of a clearing, naked and sweating with need and anxiety. There's multiple pairs of lips on your skin, soft voices as well as stern and demanding as the heat and pleasure spirals through your core, making everything feel ten times as blissful.

The ever so sexy bachelor is behind you, his hand spreading your thighs as his teeth bare in a snarl. "Once it strikes midnight, I'll claim you as mine. And you'll be forever bound to me and my clan".

The slide and stretch of his cock feels euphoric, soothing the ache in your hips as you try to rock back and press down for more. The people surrounding you moan as they watch, some pleasuring others while some play with themselves in utter debauchery.

The man sinks his teeth into your neck with no mercy, growling deeply as his thighs tighten and his hips hammer away, jackrabbiting into your tight, needy little hole as you cry and choke out moans and nonsensical sentences.

The pressure builds, your back is arching as you reach your high, toes curling and mouth hanging open as you moan with utter abandon, begging for more and paying no mind to how your neighbors lick their lips watching the scene unfold.

Once you come down from the pleasant buzz, your mind is jolted into an overstimulated haze, as the mans thrusting starts again, his mouth upturned into a smirk as he nods his head towards his eager clan members. "Go ahead. Thank this new addition for helping the pack grow. Make sure to drain them of every drop once I'm finished".

You whimper, trying to swat away hands grabbing at you, jerking in surprise when you feel tongues lapping up your sweat and groaning in ecstasy at the taste. Your eyes slam shut as the stretch grows even more, something popping and sticking to your walls and causing you to shoot into another orgasm too quickly.

They all take a few breaths, watching as the thick knot slides out of your hole after a while. The group collectively moans, two moving forward to lick at the mess dripping from your poor, abused, sloppy hole. You tense, hissing through grit teeth as you once again try to swipe at the predators sliding their tongues into the mess, wincing as they growl and hold your thighs still.

The alpha kisses up your neck, trying to reassure you as he holds your wrist down. "Just relax...You're in our hands now, we'll keep you safe".

(Mkay ill shut up so sorry >~< -Mommabean)

#Yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere cult au #yandere smut #yandere lemons #yandere exophilia #yandere werewolves #yandere dubcon #mommabean #poly yandere #yandere a/b/o #yandere omegaverse

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thelioncourts · 3 months

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Fifty, one hundred, two hundred, five hundred, a thousand, two thousand. Louis didn’t know — couldn’t know — how many times he and Lestat had made love over their years, how many times he had spread open his legs to accommodate Lestat’s slim hips slotting against his own, how many times he had held onto those broad shoulders and pricked the skin with his nails, how many times Lestat had muttered “I love you. Je t’aime, Louis. Je t’aime,” as those same slim hips started to stutter in their rhythm, how many times they had come apart in each other’s arms. What he did know was that no amount of time was enough. He always wanted more, even when he didn’t, and he never quite got used to it, never adjusted to the stretch of Lestat’s cock inside of him, of the feeling of their skin pressing against one another, of the all-consuming closeness of their hearts finding the same beat like two dancers falling into step. Each time felt anew; a wedding night time loop of devotion, consummated by the ever-always spill of blood. Tonight had begun no differently in the sense that Louis was so hungry, was starving, and Lestat had seen that hunger in his eyes and immediately went about sating it. “Un bon repas doit commencer par la faim,” he had said to Louis then, the glint of his teeth almost menacing in the muted light of their bedroom, and it had been followed by a hotly whispered promise in Louis’ ear as he divested them both of clothes that he’d have Louis’ thighs shaking soon. They’d kissed and kissed and kissed, kissed until their lips were swollen and wet, kissed until they were grinding in desperation, kissed until Louis — too far gone to be embarrassed about it — told, begged, demanded that Lestat get inside of him, that Lestat open him up and push the fat head of his cock in, that Lestat’s blood fill his belly, that Louis’ entire insides become him and only him. And Lestat, unable to do anything but listen, had done just that. He’d pressed Louis into the down of their mattress, continued to kiss him as he fingered Louis open, swallowing the whines he produced. He’d kissed down Louis’ neck, kissed the hard bone of Louis’ sternum, took a nipple into his mouth and suckled at it, all while pressing his fingers, one, two, three of them, deep into Louis’ hole, bringing him just to the brink, before relishing in the cry, in the anguished blood tears welling in Louis’ beautiful green eyes, when he wasn’t allowed to come.

But, always hungry too, Lestat hadn’t wanted to put off anything any longer and too quickly, not quickly enough, he had Louis’ left calf resting up on his shoulder as he pressed inside of him. Louis had immediately wrapped his arms around Lestat’s shoulders then, needing him closer and needing something to ground him, as the weight of Lestat’s cock left him open, as his body lunged out to pull Lestat inside even further. It had been rough then, the snap of Lestat’s hips, his faultless thrusts, the way he tried to take root in Louis’ body as though he could tie them together so they would never part. Louis had taken it and taken it, repressing his cries into the space between Lestat’s neck and shoulder, too aware of the hummingbird-quick patter of Lestat’s pulse felt through his carotid artery and skin, too aware that he was asking for more, that he was meeting Lestat’s movements just to feel the way Lestat bottomed out, just to hear the sweat-wet slap of their skin in the otherwise quiet of their bedroom.

As everything had come to a height, Louis instinctually bit down into Lestat’s skin, his fangs piercing the otherwise unmarred flesh. He’d bit down and had been encouraged quickly to drink. “Yes,” Lestat had groaned into his ear, his thrusts jackrabbiting for just a moment, “drink from me, Louis. Take what is yours,” and Louis had done just that, had moaned deep in his chest as he swallowed mouthfuls of Lestat’s rich, warm blood, moaned as it warmed his stomach and settled in the same area within him where his pleasure was cresting. When he had come, his thighs had been shaking, and they continued to as Lestat reached his own end, as he released deep inside of Louis’ welcoming body. Moments had passed, moments where they’d lain there unmoving, Lestat still cradled in the spread of Louis’s arms and legs, but it ended quickly because Lestat had pulled back, had been intent on looking at his love’s post-coital glow, and had been pleasantly surprised and all too excited to see that hunger still there, still directed at him, still awaiting satiation.

That led them to where they were now.

Lestat was sitting at the edge of the bed, one hand pressed down onto the mattress for stability, the other wrapped around Louis’ lithe waist. Louis was in his lap, had been there since Lestat had said in that teasing tone of his, “Gourmand, l’êtes-vous?” and Louis had grinned wildly at him before pushing him down and climbing atop of him, eager and wanting. But that playfulness had quickly dissipated, had become something intimate, something more, and the shift of the mood was enough to have them both near tears. They were entirely wrapped around one another now, Louis moving slowly as he rode Lestat, as he sunk down on his cock, his cock that felt even bigger at this angle. Louis wondered if he could feel it in his throat, if it would meet the blood still coating his esophagus. The air going into Louis was the air Lestat breathed, and vice versa, and they were kissing, were kissing and kissing and kissing, and only stopping so Lestat could pull back, pull back far enough that Louis could see the strand of saliva that kept their mouths connected glistening in the light, pull back far enough so Lestat could keep saying, “I love you, Louis,” as he always did. The confession, the proclamation, was one Louis had heard in abundance but he never tired of it, never tired of the way Lestat’s blue eyes shone with the truth of it, and it made Louis — somehow, in some way — want him even more. It made him want Lestat closer, and he found his hips moving on their own in the desire to make that happen, rising and falling quickly so he never had to go more than a moment without Lestat inside of him. He could feel Lestat’s hand that was wrapped around his waist tightening its grip and, for a desperate moment, he regretted his vampiric healing, wanting nothing more than to stand up later when his legs were working again and see the bruises against his hip, see the possession of Lestat’s fingerprints in his skin.

Once again, everything was coming to a height. Lestat’s breath was deep, was low in chest, was coming out in harsh pants against Louis’ mouth, and Louis wanted the groan of Lestat’s climax inside of him too, wanted to swallow it the same way he swallowed his blood, wanted to consume it just so he could be consumed in return. Louis was moving quicker then, just to make it happen, was using the strength of his thighs to push himself up, to drop himself down, to go faster and faster until Lestat’s bruising grip on his hip turned crushing, until Lestat was thrusting up into his body to try to take root again, until Lestat did groan into his mouth, hot and heavy, and the feeling of it, of his warm skin against Louis’, of his breath entering Louis’ lungs, of his come coating Louis insides, was too much and Louis groaned back into Lestat’s own mouth before tossing his head back, before he came against their stomachs, clenching down on Lestat’s cock as though he could still keep him entirely inside of him, could keep them together forever.

Lestat’s hand wasn’t crushing in its hold anymore, but was soothing, running down Louis’ back, rubbing circles into the sensitive and thin skin at Louis’ groin, all while he placed kisses across the exposed skin of Louis’ bared throat, down his chest, and on the jut of his collarbone as he shivered with aftershocks of pleasure.

Louis couldn’t keep his hands to himself either, found them tangling in Lestat’s blood sweat tinged hair, tracing along his cut jaw, pushing that same hair from in front of Lestat’s face. He could feel Lestat’s spend inside of him starting to wet the inside of his thighs a little, most of it still plugged by the girth of Lestat’s cock, and the realization of it, the acknowledgement of how right it was, how filthy it was, was almost enough to get Louis going again. He raised his head to say just that, wanting to hear Lestat groan again, wanting to hear the lust-drunk slur of his words as he said something like, “Are you trying to kill me, Louis? Oh, what a way to go, pressed inside the heat of your body. Do you ache for my cock that much? Do you need to feel it inside of you always, need to be opened and filled, hm?” but he was stopped by the slowing of Lestat’s kisses against his skin, stopped by the way he could feel Lestat’s hold on him start to slacken. “Do you miss this, Louis?” Lestat asked instead, murmured it against Louis’ skin. “Do you miss me?” Louis tried to raise his head again and let out a confused and frustrated sound when he was stopped once more. Why did Lestat sound so sad? Why wasn’t he as pleasure-contented as Louis was then? Louis’ limbs were heavy, the satisfaction bone-deep, and Lestat —

“Why did you leave me there, Louis?”

Blood. Louis could feel it, could feel the familiar stickiness of it, could smell its familiar metallic tang all around. It was all over him, all over them.

“Les?” Louis said, that same confused sound escaping him. He pushed back, refusing to be stopped once again, and looked down. He wanted to search Lestat’s eyes, to find answers there, wanted to find where the blood was coming from, wanting to find what was ruining this shared intimacy, but everything turned cold the moment he did.

It was Lestat below him, but it wasn’t. This Lestat, this thing, was dead. The hair that had just been wet with blood sweat was sopping with blood now, the redness of it turning blond to copper, and there was a gash in that throat, a gash that ran from one end to the next, canyon-like in its depth, and it was spilling blood, overflowing with it, the blood rolling down Lestat’s bare chest in rivers. But worse than all of that were his eyes. Those blue eyes Louis’ found truth in always, those blue eyes that had been the first to ever see him, those blue eyes that held the galaxy within their color.

They were rolled back in Lestat’s skull, the whites the only part visible in this death, the blue hiding, keeping the truth Louis so desperately needed right then hidden. “Les?” Louis said again. His hands were shaking as he brought them to Lestat’s face, as he hesitantly touched him, fingers resting underneath that strong chin. Just as quickly as this all had changed, Lestat’s eyes rolled back, snapping forward, and Louis gasped, scrambled in an attempt to jump up and away, but that slackened grip was crushing again, was hard and horrible, and the blood was rolling even more now, was flooding their bedroom. “Why did you leave me there, Louis?” Lestat asked him again, but it was angry this time, was asked in a terrible voice. It didn’t even sound like Lestat, it sounded like a monster, like — A flash of white fangs. Louis jolted up, gasping for air, his hands violently reaching out for something, anything, to pull him out of the pool of blood. Only…

Only he wasn’t drowning at all. He felt untamed as he looked around him, trying to make sense of what was going on. “We’re on the boat, Louis,” a voice said from somewhere across from him. Claudia’s voice. When he found her, she was sitting against the wooden paneling of whatever room they were in, a book perched on her knees, her stare unreadable. The boat. The boat. The boat. That’s right. They were on a boat. They were leaving New Orleans, were on their way to — He copied her then, scooting himself up against the wood paneling behind him too, settling all of his weight into his shoulders and resting them there. The ship was moving, gently rocking them as it traveled across the ocean, as it brought them closer to the adventure that awaited them. “We’re on the boat, Louis,” Claudia repeated, firmer this time. Louis nodded, cleared his throat too loudly, fiddled with the hem of his shirt, and stared down at his clean hands. “Yeah, I know,” he said. He felt, more than saw, the way her eyebrows fell at the too-quiet way he spoke, at the way just those three words and the way he said them confessed everything. “What’re you reading?”

He asked it quickly, asked it louder, asked it so the silence wasn’t so loud. It was obvious she knew he didn’t actually need or want to know in that instance what she was reading, but, gratefully — though not without allowing him to stew in the uncomfortable quiet for a moment longer — she answered, telling him all about the words scattering the pages of the well-worn novel in her hand.

As she spoke, Louis did his best to calm his breathing, to bring it back to some semblance of normalcy. He didn’t want to feel like this. He couldn’t go on feeling like this. He had to find some kind of peace again, he had to if he wanted to survive.

Claudia was still talking, was getting more into iterating to him the plot of her book, as a voice in the back of Louis’ mind reminded him unkindly that he felt most at peace when his heart had Lestat’s to synchronize to. And, like it was happening again, Louis could almost hear the familiar pulse of Lestat’s heart from his dream, could feel the pattern it beat in, could feel its strength. “We’re on the boat, Louis,” Claudia repeated yet a third time when she noticed him entering a whole different world, and all Louis could do was nod again, hoping she wasn’t reaching out into his head, hoping she couldn’t hear him allowing himself to wonder for the first time if he’d ever know peace again.

He made himself search his own luggage for a book, just to convince Claudia he was fine, just to assuage her worries, and, like it was inevitable, he found himself reaching for his copy of Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus. It felt fitting then. Claudia seemed to agree, snorting out a little laugh as he settled the novel into his own lap, though Louis was sure they agreed for different reasons.

Claudia was, no doubt, thinking of the actual plot of the book, of its themes of life and death and creation.

Louis was thinking of Mary Shelley and the way she kept the remains of her husband’s heart with her until the day she herself died.

#i just wrote this #like - in three hours so it's probably so full of mistakes but i couldn't let it go #my writing

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