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ridingthatd · 4 months

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pathetic submissive business men

nanami, higuruma...

contains: fem!reader, nsfw, heavy smut, submission, masturbation, squirting, toys, bdsm, nipple play, orgasm deny, teasing, dirty talk, good boy, kinky, filthy, stroking cock, etc...

higuruma:

it was indeed a long night as the room silence was filled with wet, sloppy noises coming from your cold hands aggressively stroking higurumas filthy flushed cock. his red tip kept spilling white bioled precum that slid through yours fingers in your palm, keeping your hand warm. while his teary face was shoved into your neck, his hot, foggy breath hitting your collarbones. as he hiccup and sob, to overwhelmed by the pleasure that fogged his mind.

his huge thighs that were under yours, were trembling and clenching the muscles in them. while his rough hands were busy with your swollen nipples, pinching them between his fingers hard, trying to milk anything out of it. after that was your deal. you wouldn't let higuruma cum, you wouldn't let higuruma spill his warm seeds unless he manage to squeeze milk out of your nub.

"hic- i can't- please.. i-" he sobs pathetically into your neck, his tears slidding from his face into your boobs hitting your sensitive nipples. his fat cock was wrapped around with both of your hands, squeezing him, drying him. while a red silk rob was wrapped around his balls, making sure his seeds are ready to explode. but you wouldn't let him, its been what? hours since the torture started.

your hands stop tugging on his cock as soon as you feel the familiar throb of his cock, indicating he was going to cum. "NO! NO!-" higuruma whines at the lose of your delicate hands, trying to thrust his hips up but your thick thighs that were on top of his stops him. "shhh baby you gotta try harder hm?" you coo at him, sliding the tip of your finger gently along his sensitive tip before you suck it into your mouth.

he nodes eagerly into your neck, his drool leaving his lips and slipping into your neck. you gasp as higuruma leans in and take a nipple of yours into his mouth, suckling hard on it. you can feel his cock twitching just from having the taste of it. and he does something that seems to trigger your whole body.

he harshly bites on your nipples causing you to groan into the ceiling and the next thing you know was that your other nipple that he was squeezing with his finger starts gushing milk out of it, slidding down your tummy and landing into his flushed fat cock. higuruma gasp as he feels your warm milk on his cock.

eyes rolling back his skull as his whole body twitch and it only took one word for his cock to explode. "cum" you whisper into his ear before you take his earlobe into your mouth. robs of seeds explode out of his red tip. you gently shush him as he sobs into your neck telling of how a good boy he was.

nanami:

you loved nanamis huge muscles chest. you always did, and tonight you made sure to show them alot of love. here he was tied up on your shared bed, blindfolded. while two small vibrators were placed on his swollen nipples. his face was twisted on pleasure you can barely recognize the nanami in front of you. he look desperate. as he tried to hump his hard bare cock into the air.

he looked beautiful, laying down naked with his bare fat cock on hitting his abdomen. messy blonde hair placed on his forehead while his huge biceps were tied together. you slowly place your hand on his thighs and nanami groans as he feels the warm oil that you placed on him. you gently started to rub it all over him. making sure to coat his cock with it. while he whines under you.

once you reach his chest, you remove the vibrators. you smirk as you stare at the look of relief in nanamis face, little did he know you had something better. nanami breath hitch as he feels your fingers twisting his nipples hard before you place a cold tube on them. "are you ready?" you whisper into his ear, earning a confused look that was soon replaced with whimper.

nanami groans as he a feel a suction feeling on his nipples, it hits him that you placed a nipple pumper on him. his eyes rolls at the feelings his nipples were being to simulated. "open your mouth for me" nanami insistently obey, opening his jaw. moaning as he feels your warm spit landing on his tongue.

he thinks he might cum from his nipples alone and little did he know thats exactly what you wanted. "baby- ah! remove this shit-" nanami cries out embarrassed not wanting to finish already. he's sweating, his abs are clenching. he can't control the way his body starts twitching as he tries to hold back his orgasm.

"cum baby, do it" you teasingly coo at him causing him to shake his had immediately, clenching his jaw trying to control himself. but once you give his sensitive cock a slap. he lose it. his back arch, before he's spilling all over his abdomen while you stare at him in awe.

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konigsblog · 3 months

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hickeys with simon riley...

;simon notices your possessiveness and neediness.

cw: thigh riding, afab!gn!reader. mdni

your face is buried in the crook of simon's neck, lips sucking hickeys onto his bare, veiny neck while he cups the crown of your skull firmly. his other large hand guides your hips, watching you rub your swollen, puffy sex against his thigh, moaning at the friction of his jeans against your sensitive, wet clit. your hands grip his broad shoulders, kissing down his collarbone while he chuckles at your neediness.

“such a needy thing’, rubbin’ that pussy against me, sweet one.” he chuckles hoarsely through deep grumbles, his tight grip leaving indents along your hips and waist, kneading the flesh and fat on your thighs between his thick, calloused fingers.

the softness of your body against his scarred, rough fingertips has simon grunting and gazing down at your throat heavy eyelids, chuckling at your needy state. throwing his head back as you lick his neck slowly, moving to his jaw where you layer hickeys and dark bruises all over his skin. you feel so possessive, but you can't stand the lustful glares simon gets, you want everyone to know he belongs to you... :(

don't worry, simon will treat his needy one just right, covering your neck, collarbone and jaw in dark hickeys as he unfastens his leather belt, preparing you to take him whole, to make sure you know who you belong to.

#afab!reader #gn!reader #cod x gn!reader #cod x reader #oh i know simon loves riling you up.. :( 💯#simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #ghost headcanon #ghost simon riley #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod imagine #call of duty #orla speaks

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phantasmagoria-in-neverland · 6 months

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COD men and what article of clothing of theirs they prefer to see you in.

John Price is an elegant gentleman, he loves putting his coat over your shoulders when you're cold. He always holds it for you to help you put it on, and he adjusts the collar as his fingers gently brush against your neck. His coat is big, warm and it smells like him, and he adores the way you burrow yourself into it. During the colder months, he keeps an extra jacket in his car that he can wear if he gives you the one he had on, and if you fall asleep while you're not at home, John always gently lays his coat over you like a blanket.

Simon “Ghost” Riley is an absolute sucker for the way you look in his hoodies, and although he never says it out loud, he gets a certain look in his eyes that speaks a thousand words in his place. They're oversized even on him, and they fit his style perfectly: black with the occasional skull/edgy design of some sorts. He especially loves it if your style is even just a little bit different from his, the contrast makes him melt. He never asks you to wear his hoodies, but he does leave them lying around in a way that is very obvious.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish goes feral every single time he sees you in his boxers. It doesn't even have to be sexual, just the intimacy of it makes him go wild. It's something that you simply don't share with anyone else, sure, someone else might lend you their jacket, but no one else but him can lend you something as intimate as his boxers. If you also wear boxers he is more than happy to trade, if you don't, he will not so jokingly insist that his underwear is way more comfortable than whatever you're wearing.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick puts his signature cap on your head every time he isn't wearing it or he isn't on a mission. It's the most him thing he owns, and he thinks there's something incredibly intimate (and attractive) about seeing you wearing it. He's sharing with you the one thing he wears that truly feels like it represents him, and he'd love it if you did the same for him. Sometimes he helps you put it on almost reverentially, other times, he pulls the visor over your eyes and chuckles like it's the funniest thing in the world.

Alejandro Vargas loves when you wear his shirts. It's a bit of a classic, but he loves the difference between how they look on him, tight and accentuating his muscles, and how they look on you, with the neckline wide enough for small flashes of your collarbones to peek out. Wear his shirt as a dress, even just once, and he will never shut up about how much of a breathtaking sight you make. He subconsciously starts buying colours he thinks will suit you, and the wide grin he gets when he sees you in them could light up an entire city.

Rodolfo Parra prefers to give you the most comfortable, cozy clothes he owns. It can vary from a warm sweater, to comfortable joggers, to a loose T-shirt. Whatever makes you feel the most at home is immediately transferred from his wardrobe and into yours. And if you prefer it when they still smell of him, he'll either take the care of wearing them just to give them back to you, or give you a bottle of his perfume that you can spray on whenever you want to. Most of all, he has a gigantic soft spot for seeing you in an article of clothing that has sentimental value and meaning to him.

Phillip Graves loves to give you clothes that are very easily recognisable as his, like the blue button ups that he always wears. He adores seeing how comfortable you look in them while you wear them at home, maybe paired with high socks. And he adores it even more when you style them properly to wear them outside the house, in a way that makes it clear that you're happy to let everyone know who your man is. Either way, his eyes are glued to you for the whole day while you are wearing his shirts, a smug smile on his face.

König always gives you small pieces of himself, small things that remind you of him but that are subtle enough not to bring other people's attention to it. He likes that it's something only the two of you know about, something you keep for yourselves. The things he gives you always change, it could be a ring one day, then a necklace, a scarf, or even a bag. And in the privacy of your home, he adores seeing you in his mask, as he shares the intimate part of himself he never shares with anyone else.

Alex Keller literally gives you free reign over his closet. Everything that is his is yours as well, you don't even have to ask. He'll even change his outfit for the day if he sees you wearing something he was planning on putting on. When he goes shopping, he often asks you to accompany him, so that you can help him choose the pieces that you think would look best on him, and also the pieces that he knows you'll want to steal later. He also adores wearing his clothes after you've borrowed them, your smell still lingering comfortingly on them.

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enha-stars · 11 days

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✧ drip, drip, drip

pairing: sunghoon x reader (mdni)

summary: there’s nothing sunghoon loves more than having you dripping for him— well, besides suffocating between your legs

warnings: SMUT, oral (f rec), big nose hoon, slightly feral hoon, smitten hoon, overstimulation, teasing, praise, grinding, orgasm denial

a/n: @ak4e7a and i are always on that hoon munch agenda, bro.

the setting sun silently shone through the half-closed blinds, illuminating the bedroom in a soft orange glow. the pinkish hues danced across your back, grazing your face occasionally as you looked down at your boyfriend, smiling as he pressed wet, open mouth kisses to your jaw.

sunghoon’s grip on your waist was tight as he pulled you further into him, your chest completely pressed against his as he tilted his head up, sucking and biting on your skin. this was his favourite time of the day; coming home and pulling you onto his lap, smothering himself in your scent and kissing you until both of your lips were plump and bruised.

your eyes fluttered shut as sunghoon’s teeth grazed your neck, goosebumps erupting on your skin as you giggled, trying to squirm out of his hold. sunghoon pressed a hot kiss to your collarbone before he lifted his head, his dark eyes filled with love at the sound of your quiet laughter.

“i love your laugh,” he mumbled, voice gentle and breathless as he looked up at you through his glasses. at his words, you smiled and grazed his bare shoulders with your nails. he watched you with shimmering eyes, eyes trailing across your stomach and shoulders, pleased with the darkened bites on your skin.

he liked to take his time with you; paint you with the brush of his tongue and teeth.

shifting on his lap, you dipped your head and pressed a kiss to his nose. sunghoon’s lips pulled into a bright smile and you kissed his chin, smiling at the soft blush that dusted his cheeks.

“you’re so beautiful, hoon.”

grinning like a fool in love –which he was– he let one of his hands wander up your bare back, igniting a fire in your core when his fingers grazed your bra strap. he pushed you even further into him, groaning when your clothed cunt grazed his bulge.

“can i kiss you?” he asked shyly, enamoured by your bright eyes and swollen lips.

“you never need to ask, hoon.” your fingers traced a heart into his collarbone, holding his shoulders for support. his hand on your waist dipped below the waistband of your panties, rubbing circles on the skin of your hip. “kiss me.”

cupping your cheek, he pressed his thumb into your bottom lip, pulling your face down to his. his plush lips brushed against yours and you tilted your head, trying to kiss him the way you wanted too, the way you needed too.

“don’t tease me,” you warned. “i’ll go for that shower,” your lips traced the shell of his ear, “and i’ll lock the door.”

sunghoon’s heart dropped to his stomach and he gripped your chin tighter, his nose brushing against yours. “wouldn’t dream of it, baby.” he released your chin to remove his glasses, throwing them somewhere across the bed.

before you could chastise him for it, his hand wrapped around your throat and he crashed your lips against his, swallowing your small gasp. his lips moved roughly against yours as one of his hands gripped your ass, slowly moving your hips against his.

you moaned into the kiss and sunghoon slipped his tongue into your mouth, tracing the crevices of your teeth before sucking on your tongue. he guided your hips as he kissed you, your cunt rubbing against his hardened cock.

pulling away from your lips, sunghoon’s eyes zeroed in on the string of spit that connected both of your lips before he began kissing down your neck, nibbling and sucking. your head fell back when he bit down a bit harder, hands flying to his shortened hair.

you grind your hips against his, panties wet with slick as your juices leaked through his boxers. you run your hands through his hair, massassing his skull with your nails and he lets out a quiet whimper against your neck, hips bucking upwards.

sunghoon continues to rock your hips against his pelvis and swallows your quiet moan as he captures your lips in another messy, heated kiss. your hands grip onto his shoulder for support, nails piercing into his skin, making him hiss into your mouth at the pleasure of pain.

his cock had leaked enough precum to soak through his boxers, mixing with your slick. the sounds of your juices mixing as your cunt glided along his dick had both of your head spinning, pleasure gradually building up.

under your wandering hands, his abs flexed and relaxed, and his lips didn’t leave your skin once. his warm tongue was pressed against your neck, licking upwards as you moaned out his name, pussy throbbing and sensitive.

“‘m close, hoon,” you whispered into his ear, making him shiver.

he nodded along to your words, lost in a trance of pleasure. you began rocking your hips faster, pushing your hips deeper, trying to somehow push sunghoon’s deeper into you.

his leg twitches and his eyes shot open and he halted your movements, making you cry out his name in frustration. panting, he grips your waist tightly to stop you from reaching your climax.

“hoon, i’ll fucking kill you.”

instead of letting you continue, he simply grinds his cock upwards into your cunt once, making you hiss at the sensitive feeling.

“i want you to cum in my mouth,” his voice is needy, slightly whiny. his eyes are slightly dazed, lips swollen red and skin warm, pink dusted across his pale skin. “please.”

your lips part in surprise and you can only nod, a fresh wave of arousal hitting you at his desperation. you nodded once and tried to lift yourself off his lap but his grip on your waist is too strong. he raises an eyebrow at you. “where are you going?”

you play with the ends of his hair and try to lift your leg off him but he grips your thigh, holding you down. “don’t you want me on my back?”

grinning, sunghoon shakes his head. “sit on my face.” he uses one hand to cup your pussy and like you weigh nothing to him, he pulls your body closer and. you blink at him in surprise and he simply shuffles his body downwards until his head rests on the pillow and you’re sitting on his stomach.

sunghoon looks at you expectantly and he hooked his thumbs under your panties and pulls down. you want to me embarrassed by how they stick to your pussy, dripping with slick, but before you can, he pulls at them a bit harder and they rip apart.

your eyes widen in surprise, not quite sure if sunghoon actually ripped your pantines, but he doesn’t give you any time to process before he licks your soiled panties. you watch in aroused horror as his pink tongue flickers at the cloth before his eyes light up and he smiles devilishly.

“tastes like heaven.” he tosses them somewhere on the floor and grabs your hips once again.

“you’re insane,” you whisper, unable to get angry at him for ripping apart one of your favourite pairs. he smiles brightly at you as he drags your body upwards, towards his face. you let out soft whimpers as your senetice pussy drags along his chest, his hardened skin giving you small amounts of pleasure.

once he’s successfully brought you to his shoulders, you look down at him with hesitancy swimming in your eyes. “hoon… you’re sure?”

sunghoon unclasps your bra and watches with amazement as your breasts spill out of the fabric. he tosses the bra somewhere and pinches both nipples, wanting nothing more than to also have them in his mouth.

“baby,” he says, seriously. “i want you to completely smother me, do you understand? no hovering. i don’t want to breathe.” he bites his bottom lip in anticipation. “don’t move until i’ve drained you.”

“hoon,” you frown. “you’ll die.”

he grabs a handful of your ass and pushes you towards his face. you push up from your knees and grip the headboard, back arching. “that’s the plan, sweetheart.”

before you can object, his tongue licks a harsh stripe of slick and you moan out his name. sunghoon lifts his chin up a bit and smirks as he forces you to hover above his mouth. like a man starved, he sticks his tongue out and lets your slick drip into his mouth, gliding to the back of his throat.

embarrassed, you shut your eyes and press your forehead against the headboard and sunghoon just drinks what your pussy offers him. he lets your juices drip into his mouth until he can’t hold back anymore. he harshly pushes your hips down and lifts his chin up, his face buried in your cunt.

you whimper quietly as sunghoon’s tongue pushes in and out of your sopping hole, licking and sucking like you’re his last meal. he drags his tongue along your pussy, fucking it into your cunt before sucking on your clit.

he pushes his tongue deep within you, tracing his name into your gummy walls, and his nose presses against your clit like it was made for that very purpose. you groan and arch your back as sunghoon presses his nose further into your clit, rubbing it until he’s sure you’re all he’ll smell for weeks.

your mind goes numb with pleasure and your initial concern for your boyfriend gets thrown out the window as you grind on his face, his tongue kissing your walls and fucking into your pussy as you use his nose to pleasure yourself.

unknown to you, but your movements match those of his hips as he thrusts into the air, using his wet boxers to offer any friction. your moans grow louder as he sucks and licks at your pussy, the familiar build up of pleasure greets you and you sigh, pressing your clit against his nose.

sunghoon grunts and hums into your cunt and you feel dizzy from pleasure. his tongue is relentless as it fucks into you and you can feel your legs going numb.

“hoon, i’m– close, so close,” you’re begging him and he groans in response, sending you further into spiral. just as your core tightens, sunghoon’s thumb grazes your anus and you lurch forward, legs shaking uncontrollably around his head as he continues to poke and prod.

“that’s it,” he mumbles against your soaking cunt. “cum for me.”

sunghoon continues to lick at your pussy, sucking and licking sloppily as your cum paints the bottom half of his face. he tries to swallow every drop and he does. you grip onto the headboard for dear life as you lose feeling in your legs and upper body.

sunghoon continues to lay his tongue flat on your pussy and suck, keeping your hips in place as you try to pry away, sensitive and drained.

your whimpers turn into heavy breathing, until all you can mumble is some variation of his name.

“please, please,” you beg. “no more.”

sunghoon hears the exhaustion in your voice and kisses your clit once before he kisses your pussy, capturing each fold in a separate kiss. it has your mind reeling and your body begins to convulse, overwhelmed by pleasure.

his grip on your legs finally loosens and his arms up to catch you, shifting a bit upwards to hold you close to his chest. his warm hands run soothingly up and down your body as you try to come off the high of your orgasm.

he smiles softly at your shut eyes and kisses your jaw. “did so good for me, baby.” he holds you tightly against his chest and there isn’t a prettier sight in the world than you in his arms.

you open your eyes and smile at him and he presses his lips against yours, allowing you to taste yourself on him. he groans when you suck his bottom lip, trying to taste a bit more of yourself.

you pull away and he adjusts his hips. you stare at him, all roughed up and beautiful, and it’s almost too much for you. instead, you kiss his ear. “let me suck you off, hoon. you haven’t cummed yet.”

sunghoon stares at you sheepishly as he palms your breast. “don't’ worry about me, baby.” he tilts his head down and captures your other nipple in his mouth.

“let me– i want you in my mouth,” you murmur, voice breaking as he tugs on your nipples.

sunghoon kisses both of your breasts before he gently grabs your chin. “i cummed when you did.” at your disbelieving look, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “nothing brings me more pleasure than making you cum, baby.”

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shotmrmiller · 2 months

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smut because somehow i always end up there.

yknow something that pushy ass cbf!johnny would do?

tell you that he'd get more benefits and/or pay if he had a spouse.

"Because you're in absolute poverty, Johnny."

He clicks his tongue. "Be serious, hen."

You are being serious. Johnny's not hurting for cash. His parents are still alive, so he has no need to buy a place of his own, and even then, he just swings by his family's home before coming back to stay with you until leave's over. Honestly, you should be charging him rent.

"Johnny. Unless you're planning on buying another ostentatious vehicle with tires too big for this tiny town, I'm not seeing what you're seeing."

He digs his thumb into the arch of your foot that's draped over his lap. "But think o' the possibilities! If say, you married me, ye wouldn't need to work anymore. Jus' worked on gettin' the job of yer dreams! An' besides, ah'd never realistically settle down anyway; too busy savin' the world an' all."

The extra income must be drastic if he's this insistent. "Why not marry the big brit with the skull for a face? You talk about him enough to sound like you've got a hard on for him."

He avoids your gaze when he informs you that Ghost is already married.

"And what about me? What if I find a boyfriend or something?" you playfully teased. Johnny's bright blue eyes turned to ice.

"Is there someone?" A muscle worked in his jaw.

Dread crawled up your spine. Abort. Abort. "Of course not." The tension melted from his face— gaze gentling and lips softening.

Christ, can he be intense sometimes.

You clear your throat. "Say I do marry you. What do you get out of this as my benefactor? Math isn't mathing, Johnny."

His lips curl upwards in amusement. "Nothin' between us would change. Jus' get a nice, shiny band on my hand tha' keeps unwanted advances off of me, and I wouldn't have to live on base anymore. Tired of eatin' tha' slop at dfac."

Johnny's long fingers curl around your ankle, thumb drawing gentle circles on the bone. "C'mon, hen. Think about your career! Marry me and ye won't even have t'change yer last name, swear."

Once again, fooled by the pretty face and dazzling smile.

You were a MacTavish by the end of the month, and he'd ended up in your bed that same night. Pushed your face into the soft mattress as he bullied his cock into you, telling you to feel how he splits his little wife's pussy open.

Mottled the delicate skin of your neck and collarbone with purple love bites when he hooked your knees over his shoulders, forcing you to take all of him in that devastating angle.

Made you look at yourself in the mirror in the bathroom, one hand gripping your neck, and the other on your swollen cunt, rubbing tight circles on your slippery clit. "Look at how beautiful y'are. How good yer takin' me." He tilts your head upwards, locking eyes with you. "This cunt was made f'me, wasn't it, wife?" he rumbles.

If he said anything else, it was promptly drowned out by a buzzing in your ears as your world went white. Warmth trickled down your legs as pleasure burst through you, spasm after gut-twisting spasm. Johnny blessedly slows down, working you through it tenderly, until you hiss in discomfort from oversensitivity.

"The way ye look in yer pleasure is somethin' i'll see behind my eyelids forever, bonnie."

Heat licks up the sides of your jaw. "Johnny, please—" you cut off, a moan tumbling out of your lips when he presses himself flush against your arse.

"Dinnae worry, ah'm not done with ye jus' yet." There's a hand in between your shoulder blades, pushing down gently. "Bend over, hands behind yer back, Mrs. MacTavish."

ghost is in fact, not married.

and the pay raise is mediocre.

#call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod mwii #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish smut #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader

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ddejavvu · 9 months

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pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: your BeReal for the day is, perhaps, a little too real

contents/warnings: smut (18+, minors dni)

There's no mistaking the notification that chimes on your nightstand. It's BeReal, the unique sound lets you know, and you're not in the best position right now to answer it.

You're in the best position, period. You're sprawled out against Aaron's silky bedsheets, the fabric soothing and cool against your flushed skin. You're sweaty, hot, and bothered, your cunt begging for more as Aaron drives his cock repeatedly through your sopping folds.

"Fuck," You hiss, partially at the feeling of Aaron's teeth scraping at your collarbone, and partially because you panic at the sound, "Aaron, my- gimme my phone."

"Don't you think this is a little more important?" He grunts, nearly knocking his skull into your jaw as he lunges for a kiss. He takes you by surprise, and you're nearly pulled away from your urgency to post when his tongue practically slips down your throat.

You nearly gag on it, and your nails take a break from scratching up his back to weave through the short strands of hair at the back of his neck. It's not long enough to tug, but he huffs at the feeling of your nails scraping across his scalp, and rocks his hips into yours slightly faster.

"Oh, fuck, Aaron," You pant when he finally lets you breathe, burying his head in your shoulder to bite at the skin there instead, "Aaron this is so hot, I wanna- please, I wanna post it."

"No face," He instructs, and you're more than happy to choose a different area of his body to focus on, "Don't need Garcia figuring us out."

The moans that escape your mouth, albeit muffled by Aaron's own, are so pornographic that you're paranoid they'll somehow be captured in the photo you snap. When you finally get your hands on your phone you aim it at Aaron's back, as well as the red stripes left by your newly manicured nails, and snap a photo. Then, with the front camera, your jaw that's been sucked sore by Aaron, and in the corner of the shot, his short black hair and strong jawline nestled against your skin. You keep it just as he's instructed, vague enough of a profile so that your coworkers shouldn't be able to figure out that it's him, and his post without a second thought. You feel the buzzings of replies soon after, but you're no longer capable of caring about them while they vibrate against your nightstand, much happier to focus on Aaron's relentless jackhammering into your pulsating cunt.

Gathering in the conference room the next day means that you get a lot of shit-eating grins. You'd expected it, what with the soft porn you'd posted, and you're surprised when even Rossi offers you his congratulations.

"Nice going, kiddo," He knocks elbows with you, and you laugh sheepishly.

"You saw?"

"Morgan filled me in," He nods, "Garcia was the first one to know, of course, but it spread very quickly."

You don't have it in you to be embarrassed in front of your team too badly. You're all adults, and they're more proud of you than anything, even if Reid's smile is extra awkward today.

"Just be glad Hotch doesn't have the app," Emily laughs, and for a moment you forget that they don't know you're together. But you play it off with a wry smile towards her as your Unit Chief walks through the door, and you're happy to let your attention drift to him as he speaks.

His tone is authoritative, like always, and you fight to stop something from stirring between your legs. You tune into what he's saying instead, something about a double homicide in Kansas, and that helps dissuade any distracting thoughts you might have had.

"-and those pictures are... not on the monitor." Aaron narrows his eyes at the black screen, and Garcia nearly breaks the remote trying to get it to respond.

"Sir, I'm trying! I'm sorry," She frets, mashing all of the buttons at once in her panic, "It's not working, I- I think the batteries might be dead?"

"I changed them two weeks ago," Hotch shakes his head while taking the remote from her, stepping up towards the monitor to fiddle with the buttons beneath it, "It's alright, Garcia, it's not your fault."

He cranes his head down to peer at remote in his hand, intent on making sure no acid has leaked from the batteries, but when he does so, the back of his neck is no longer covered by his shirt collar, and it's bright red.

There's clear marks from your nails, red streaks that haven't faded in the mere hours they've been left alone and probably won't for another day. It barely takes any time for a room of profilers to connect two and two, and Penelope's position as technical analyst doesn't hinder her realization.

Your hand shoots over your mouth as the rest of your team exchanges incredulous gasps and jeers, all looking rapidly between you and Hotch. He turns to raise an eyebrow at them all and his eyes land on your bashful grin.

"Remind me to rub some aloe on the back of your neck when we get home," You mumble sheepishly, and there's only more scandalized comments made about how you two go home together.

Aaron's jaw clenches and he sighs defeatedly at the realization that you've both been caught, a hand flying up to cup the back of his neck.

Everyone waits with bated breath to hear what he has to say for himself but he can't manage to muster up anything to save the awkward situation.

"We'll look at the details on the jet," He grumbles, setting the faulty remote on the counter and snatching his bag off of the ground beside his chair, "Wheels up in thirty, and we never speak of this again."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner smut

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urhoneycombwitch · 4 months

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eddie who's cynical and grumpy only because he hasn't had proper aftercare. most people just roll over or leave when they're done and those that do stay to cuddle, it's Eddie holding them and never the other way around. He doesn't want to admit that it makes him feel dissatisfied afterwards, like the sex wasn't even worth it, because he got laid, that's the point, why complain? But there's just something... missing (and I figure aftercare wasn't as talked about in the 80s so he isn't really too sure what that something is)

Until a night with reader where they have absolutely mind-blowing sex, parting with heavy breaths and as Eddie's heart rate starts to slow back down to normal again, he's waiting for reader to grab their clothes, roll over on their side, something that breaks the connection and makes his heart drop. But they don't, reaching out a weak hand (because they're sluggish waiting for their soul to return to their body) to rub his arm. A gentle back and forth, which feels nice, but Eddie's suspicious. What is this, why are they doing it, and why does it feel good?

And then, "Can I play with your hair?" (from the muse prompt lol) and he's agreeing with a shrug and when reader starts to card their fingers through his curls and massage his scalp, Eddie melts. It's like a whole brain recalibration. His icy heart getting thawed out just because someone made sure to take care of him too. And if reader wakes up earlier in the morning just to ask how he likes his eggs? Eddie's already decided that he's gotta lock them down.

+18 mdni

cw: p in v sex, cockwarming

It’s you tipping over the edge into orgasm, choking his cock with your velvet walls, soft whine spilling from the back of your throat, that takes Eddie with you.

As he comes, he burrows his face into your neck. Your hands reach for his skull to draw him closer, and he unintentionally bites down a bit too hard on the soft skin of your neck.

You let out a gasp, fingers seizing in his hair, and he’s quick to pull his mouth up, kissing and soothing over the spot he’s left with his teeth.

“Shit, sorry, sweetheart,” he pants, the affection slipping out despite himself.

“It’s’okay,” you mumble out in one word, limbs going to putty, hands extricating themselves from his hair.

Eddie rises to his elbows and moves to gingerly pull out but you stop him, fingers flying up to dig into the meat of his biceps.

“Wait, can you- will you just stay in? For a little bit?”

You’re not kidding, he can tell- you’ve got a wounded puppy look that he’s dying to change. Eddie sinks slowly back into you, rotates his hips a bit so you take less of his weight, and settles his head on your collarbone.

A big, dreamy sigh, from you- like you’re perfectly content because of how close Eddie is.

His eyes flutter shut when you begin tracing light lines with the pads of your fingers over his bare back.

“What’cha doin’?” Eddie murmurs into the skin of your sternum.

Up his spine, circling under the curtain of hair against his neck, down the spine again; looping and rhythmic. Your hands don’t slow as you whisper “Lovin’ on you, weirdo. Hush.”

You can feel the well of his dimples against your skin as he smiles.

“Can I play with your hair?” you ask quietly, and before he’s even finished nodding you’ve got both hands winding into his dark locks.

You start gentle, thumbs at his temples, light touches against his scalp, but when your hands find the roots you give a short but hard tug.

The little flash of pain goes straight to his dick, and he bucks into you with a low groan, half filled-out already.

“You gonna give me another pretty mark to look at?” you purr.

Eddie lifts his head from your chest and grazes his teeth into the opposing side of your neck just below your ear, in tandem with a sharp snap of his hips.

He catches your clit beneath his thumb and grins wicked when you moan, pulling up again to look down at you as he says, “Gimme another one of your pretty orgasms and we’ve got a deal.”

#eddie munson x reader #lu’s anons #e.m. thots from lu #thank you anonnnnnn #eddie munson smut

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inkykeiji · 6 months

Text

character: shigaraki tomura x fem!reader warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, dry humping, rough messy kisses, tomura is a meanie words: 1.3k

just been daydreaming about kissing tomura’s scars and leave the prettiest, sparkliest smears of pink lip gloss along his neck and collarbone ♡ and how much he supposedly ‘hates’ it ♡

“i told you to stop doing this,” his voice vibrates against your lips, head tilting further back, allowing you more room to work. “you’re making a fucking mess.”

“m’sorry,” you murmur into the curve of his shoulder, not seeming apologetic in the slightest, planting another kiss, hard and puckered and full of purpose, to the protruding bones. “can’t help it.”

“b-bitch,” he keens out, curse fading to a gasp on his tongue.

giggling, you string another garland of pecks along the curve of his neck to the hinge of his jaw, then across the defined edge, leaving smears of pretty pink lip gloss.

it’s real cute, you think, the way he acts as if he doesn’t love it, grumbles about how sticky it is, how it clumps his hair together and dries all hard and shimmery, but secretly he loves finding remnants of glitter—of you—all over him; his fingertips, his collarbone, his lips, his hair, his eyelashes; tiny sparkling reminders that you were there, that you’ve staked your claim, leaving a galaxy of constellations across his body that bear your name.

he acts as if it’s such a nuisance, as if he doesn’t adore the way your lips paint his fresh gouges, new gashes, in the prettiest shimmers of you; your gloss, your drool, your scent—notes that linger far after you’re gone, notes that seep into his skin, that produce phantom tingles of longing when he’s laying alone in the middle of the night, warm and wiggling beneath his flesh.

he acts as if he doesn’t find it breathtakingly beautiful, the way his self-inflicted scars glimmer, the worst part of himself made pretty by you.

he acts as if if it doesn’t make his cock twitch in his jeans—even though you know it does, even though he knows you know it does, indicated by your girlish giggles as you bounce a little in his lap and lick another fat strip of saliva up the column of his neck, tongue tracing over that prominent adam’s apple that trembles with a growl or throbs with a thick swallow, to punctuate the lick with a sticky, gloss saturated kiss, right beneath his chin.

he acts like this for as long as he can stand it, for as long as his soul will allow it, until he physically can’t take it anymore, the clawing at his chest and in his veins too much to bear, large hands curling around your hips and squeezing, hard, holding you in place as he ruts up into your clothed core, movements sloppy and uneven.

there’s no finesse to it, no set rhythm or pace, hips bucking wildly as he compels you to stay put, damn it, the demand spit out in a ragged whine.

his mouth clashes against your own in a crude imitation of a kiss, sucking your lips into his mouth with enough force to yank a yelp from your chest.

sharp teeth scrape your upper lip and the underside of your nose, leaving raised, raw little abrasions in their wake as they gnaw on your mouth, bottom row grating over your chin and dragging up, harvesting fat globs of the sticky substance behind their sawtoothed edges.

muffled moans soak into your flesh, pitchy and splintered to bits by heavy pants as he restlessly scours your mouth, scrubs it near clean, teeth depositing clots of gloss onto his tongue.

it hurts, the constant rubbing of his teeth leaving your skin chafed and bloodied, but he doesn’t fucking care, greedily swallowing down your resounding squeals and cries, starved for any bit of you he can devour.

it hurts, but you don’t discourage it, instead twining your arms around his neck, fingers pushing into the fluffy tufts curling up at the base of his skull.

“uh, fuck,” he whines, voice grit and gravel, mouth mashed against your own.

his tongue unfurls to lap at your lips, now glazed with a watery crimson, desperate to slurp every last ounce of gloss from your swollen mouth. it flattens against your face, slick muscle laving in hard, repetitive motions back and forth, back and forth, gathering the remnants of make-up and coating his tongue and his teeth in the tacky glitter, tainted with the taste of copper.

those little whimpers and mewls have morphed into grunts and groans, shoved from his throat into yours as his tongue finally enters your mouth, now satisfied with having sucked the first layer of skin from your lips.

it’s all so fucking messy, drool weeping from the corners of your conjoined mouths and leaving sticky streaks across your jaws and chins, edges of your teeth clacking together as your tongues tangle and brush and massage one another, slick and slippery as they push and curl.

his pleasure is hot and heavy on your tongue, little jolts surging through your skin with each sound huffed out in time with the irregular rocking of his hips.

his cock is so hard, straining painfully against his jeans, throbbing as if it’s desperate to burrow through the thick denim to your cunt, but tomura won’t let it get that far—tomura can’t.

because tomura needs to cum now, tomura doesn’t have the time to wait, tomura doesn’t have a goddamn second to waste, fucking into you through layers of fabric, thankful you’re in a skirt, thankful your panties are so fucking slutty, made of lace so thin, so delicate it’s barely a barrier at all.

if he concentrates hard enough, he swears he can feel your hole, empty and yearning, clenching with every stroke of his cock over your clit.

it’s almost enough to make him cum right there.

bony fingers flex on your waist, unsure if they want to stop your movements or speed them up, blunt nails gouging dark, deep crescents into your skin.

you make the decision for him, pace quickening as you grind down on his cock—come on, tomu, come on, tomu—and he mewls again, something high and pitchy and dense in your mouth, hips jerking up in response.

his forehead knocks against your own, hard enough to make you wince, pain searing through your temples. your noses nudge together, clumsy and inept with the haphazard rolling of his hips, steadily accelerating with each rut against you, desperate to match the pace you’ve set, to exceed the pace you’ve set. the fingers tangled at the back of his skull push further into his hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp in lopsided little circles, evoking another low moan as he shoves his head harder against yours, desperate to give you more room to work.

he’s getting close now, hands tightening as they force you to move even faster, thighs tensing as the pressure in his tummy builds higher and higher, heavier and heavier with each of your motions, hips stuttering as they fall out of tempo again, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“fuck, f-fuck,” the curse fractures in his throat, eyes shut so tight they crinkle at the corners, breath exhaled in harsh tatters out his nose. “i—i’m gonna—”

“do it,” you nearly beg in a stringy whine. “ruin your jeans for me.”

“oh, christ,” he chokes on a sob, another three gyrations of your hips and then he’s obeying, cock pulsing almost violently and filling his pants with hot, thick cum—so much, too much, way too much that it starts oozing through the denim in viscous, ropy dollops to smear across your inner thighs, the coating pretty and pearly glazing over your skin.

leaning back, you look down, spreading your thighs a little further to examine the damage, tensing and tilting the muscles to fawn at the way his cum shimmers in the dim light.

“now who’s the one making a mess?” you tease with a giggle, gazing at him through your lashes, and he rolls his eyes.

“this is nothing,” he’s growling as he hoists you up, one big hand clamped around your elbow, already beginning to drag you along behind him. “i’m gonna show you what a real mess looks like.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura smut #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you

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dilfsfordinner · 7 months

Text

a/n- nanami has always been my favorite jjk man but BRO, he was something else in the new episode, they were definitely animating with one hand

warnings- doggy pos

—————————————————————————

“just.. just stay still,” nanami’s voice rasped against the shell of your ear, his muscly thighs slamming into the backs of your own, your spine pressed down into an impossible arch by his large hands, all tenderness flying out the window, a stark contrast to the usual sweet, love-making the two of you would have.

“why won’t you tell me what’s wro- mmhp!” your words were cut off by a particularly rough snap of his hips, his thick cock jamming against your cervix, releasing a barrel of electricity to shoot through your muscles. he was never usually like this, always making sure to treat you with the utmost respect and care, his actions and words tied by a boundary of love, never crossing into rough waters, said boundary apparently not strong enough to withstand an irritant, something causing his brain to turn muddled, his lack of speaking and animalistic thrusts just more proof along with the pure anger radiating off of him.

strong legs bracketed your lower half, his tall frame towering over you even while kneeling, his chest snug against your back as the top of your skull fit directly under the dip of his collarbones. nanami hadn’t really said anything since he’d gotten home, the only form of communication he deigned to use being grunts and huffs of pleasure.

you’d barely even had time to greet him when he’d opened the front door of your shared home, loud footsteps trudging toward you before grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder, your worried questions doing nothing to quell his anger or silent treatment, his only apparent goal being to get you to the bedroom. and that’s how you found yourself being stripped bare and fucked in such a humiliating pose, his long fingers fisting the headboard, white knuckles so tight you swore you could hear the wood splintering.

you were like medicine to him, your doting personality so sweet whenever he needed someone to vent to. not only was your character comforting, but your body too, sex being another way for him to let out his anger which you knew and you let him, not stopping him from plowing your cunt raw, just to get whatever was eating at him out.

“i- just let me have you… please,” he practically begged in the crook of your neck, lips ghosting your flushed skin as he continued to push in and out of you, clearly not ready to talk about whatever had pissed him off. taking his request to heart, you nuzzled your ass back into his hips, your cunt squeezing him as if in answer to his plea, to use you however he wanted. nanami groaned at this, one hand coming down to hold your waist, pulling you back onto his cock languidly, the two of you lost in each other as you let your bodies do the talking.

he leaned down to leave kisses along the top of your spine and shoulders, your pants higher-pitched from the stretch and burn of his cock, that renowned gentle character returning even while he was fucking you like an animal, still concerned over your comfort no matter how troubled he was mentally. “you’re too good to me,” he murmured into your hair, hips lazily rolling against your ass, your bodies pressed so close you actually felt the way goosebumps riddled his skin, and how rapid his heartbeat was against your back.

yes, you loved when he didn’t hold back with you, when he was rough and manhandled you into whatever position he could think of, but there was something about his kind-hearted, gentle persona that could never be topped, even if getting bent in half did feel incredibly good.

—————————————————————————

#since day one #nanami kento smut #jjk x fem!reader #nanami smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk shibuya arc #nanamin

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catopoliscat · 1 month

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sweet dreams, good morning / fem!reader/kento nanami.

you and your boyfriend nanami usually showered at different times. this morning, he decided to join you.

tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. afab!reader. established relationship. shower sex. penetrative sex. no set timeline but presumed canon!verse. fingering. creampie. unprotected sex (wrap it kids). nanami had a little dream about you. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever.

wc: 3.6k.

a/n: inspired by some nsfw pieces @jimwackthesecond sent to me of nanami on discord, ty babes I'm still throbbing about it

mdni.

It was rare for Nanami to join you like this.

Even after months of living together, of being by each other's side; of cooking, eating, drinking and sleeping next to one another—showers together were rare. It wasn’t any conscious decision, really, just a difference in routine. You preferred to shower in the mornings. Nanami preferred to shower in the evenings. Small moments of solace and quiet amidst the hot water and soap. A moment of solitude between lives so tightly intertwined.

Today, however, Nanami had surprised you.

You were halfway through your usual semi-methodical routine, soap suds still clinging to your arms and chest, when you felt the door open. A cool gush of air rushed through the fog of the warm bathroom for a moment, skittering up your back in a gentle caress. You shiver, hearing Nanami’s familiar footsteps, but think little of it. You had thought you had been quiet when you had slipped from his sleepy embrace, wanting to give him a longer lie in bed for once—but perhaps you hadn’t been quiet enough.

Any moment, you had expected the tap to start running, the sound of toothpaste being uncapped and bristles against white teeth. Instead, the sound of rustling clothes just about reaches your ears over the sound of water thudding against the tiles beneath your feet, and then comes the slide of glass, a footstep and—

—strong, warm arms encircling your waist tightly, as if you might disappear into smoke if he let go.

You smile softly to yourself as Nanami presses up close against your back, hard pectorals slotting against the ridges of your shoulder blades. The heat of his chest is a strong match to the warmth of the water against your front, seeping into your bones and warming you from the inside out.

A nose nudges at the crook of your neck, moving upward before soft lips press against the spot right behind your ear. You chuckle softly, leaning back into the caress, eyes fluttering shut.

“Not like you to shower in the morning,” you murmur, barely audible over the rush of the water.

A low hum is your response. The arms wind tighter, and a large, calloused hand settles on your navel. His thumb brushes up and down in a languid, repetitive motion. You shiver slightly.

“I had an incentive,” Nanami replies, his voice a husky rumble, throat still thickened with the remnants of sleep. He presses another kiss against your skin, his lips lingering this time. “You don’t mind?”

You chuckle again, shaking your head as you settle it back against him, feeling the hard ridge of his collarbone against your skull. “Of course not.”

Even after all this time together, seeing each other at your most vulnerable, Nanami was always aware and respectful of boundaries, even unspoken.

A contented silence settles in the bathroom, broken only by the spray of the showerhead. Morning sunlight spills through the frosted, dewy glass, reflecting off the mirror that paints a portrait of a couple, very much in love. Nanami’s thumb continues its gentle caress, a soft swipe up and down that becomes as familiar to you as your own heartbeat. His other hand rests against your ribs, just underneath your breast, but makes no move to touch or cup it just yet.

A sleepy comfortability takes over you. Between the heavy warmth of the water and steam, as well as the steady thrum of Nanami’s heartbeat behind you, you find yourself leaning more and more into his form. He supports you easily, hands tightening just slightly to bear more of your weight. You start to distinctly remember why you rushed through showers in the morning—sleep still clinging to your mind like condensation on glass.

It was a weekend, though. Neither you nor Nanami had any work or missions, no business or meetings. There was no world to save. Not today.

“I could fall asleep like this,” you mumble, eyes still shut.

Another feathery kiss, against your shoulder this time. “Do you want to go back to bed?”

Although the idea of crawling back into still-warm sheets is appealing, you shake your head. This was enough. More than enough.

You wind a hand down your body, settling it above Nanami’s own where it rests against you. You don’t hesitate to intertwine your fingers with his, and he doesn’t hesitate to hold them, giving them a small squeeze.

With his one thumb now restricted, his other thumb takes over its brother's repetitive motion, occasionally brushing against the underside of your breast. Although initially accidental and easily forgotten, the movement gradually becomes more intentional. Daring. One particular sweep brushes over the swell of your breast. The next is even higher, just across your nipple.

An involuntary breath leaves you as the slight sensation causes familiar goosebumps to erupt across your skin. Your lips part slightly as you arch into the touch, the curve of your back pushing your hips back into—

Ah.

A soft puff of breath leaves Nanami’s lips as your ass brushes against his cock, the hard length rubbing up against the cleft. His grip tightens on your hand, and you can feel his responding shudder. He quickly moves his hips back again, keeping his chest pressed up against you instead.

You smile to yourself, a touch wryly. Nanami wasn’t easily worked up, and certainly not in tender moments like this. You can’t help but wonder if this is the product of just the proximity, or something more.

“I’m flattered that my sleepy morning self has this effect on you,” you drawl, a layer of amusement in your tone that you can’t quite shed.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, as if he has anything at all to apologise about. “I…”

You feel his lips open against the skin of your neck, but he shuts them again. That makes you raise an eyebrow, your eyes blinking open to squint against the steamy bathroom. You try to angle your head to get a look at him, but the angle is difficult. When you try to turn your body to face him properly, however, his arms tighten around your waist, preventing you from doing so.

It wasn’t like Nanami to be this… reserved. Not this far into your relationship.

“Nanami?”

Another gush of air flutters against your wet shoulder, something close to a sigh of resignation. “I dreamt about you,” he finally says, the words imprinted against your skin. “This morning.”

Ah.

A wet dream? Hardly something to be self-conscious about, you think. Especially when you were clearly the star of said dream. Nanami was always oddly prudish around certain things, however. Traditional, in some senses.

“Oh? How rude, we hardly know each other.”

You can almost feel the responding eye-roll in response to your teasing humour. He gives a small squeeze to your intertwined fingers, as if telling you to take this seriously—though you refused to. A dream was a dream, and you were less concerned with the fact he had one and more concerned with what exactly was in it.

“I’m a thirty-year-old man,” he grumbles.

“Who’s still human,” you remind him. You push your hips back again, pleased to feel Nanami’s cock still very much hard, nearly pulsing, against the swell of your ass. He exhales a slow, steadying breath, but makes no move to pull his hips away again. “Tell me about it.”

Another small sigh against your shoulder. You can practically feel his hesitation, unwilling to unveil the explicit nature of his dream just yet.

You push yourself back against him again, a slight movement of your hips that has his cock pressing a little deeper against your skin. You buy yourself a small grunt in response, a choked sound that hitches in the back of his throat.

“Come on,” you chuckle, the sound a little throaty now. Sensing he needed a little more push, you unlink your hand from his to lay atop his other one, guiding it up to cup your breast properly. “Did I at least look good?”

“Mm.” He gives your breast a small squeeze; a well-practised, perfect amount of pressure that always makes your thighs clench together. “So beautiful… as always.”

“Where were we?”

Another hesitation, though shorter this time. He occupies the time by kneading your breast slowly, massaging it almost in his calloused palm. “On a beach. It was just us. White sand, palm trees, lapping waves… the sun was so warm.”

You smile at the picture he paints in your head. “I’m sure we made it feel warmer.”

You feel a shuddering breath against the back of your neck before he hums in agreement. You can only imagine that whatever memory of his dream is replaying in his mind is a good one, because he presses his cock against you more firmly.

“Yes,” he mutters against your nape, before pressing a hungry, hot, open-mouthed kiss against the skin there. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

By the way he’s groping at your breasts and ever-so-subtly grinding his hips against your ass, you would say you have a general idea. You want to press him for more details on his dream. What did you do to rile him up so? What did he do in the dream to make him pursue you to the shower when he awoke?

All those thoughts and questions are disappearing from your mind, however, as the hand against your navel is drifting down between your thighs. Your lips part in a soft exhale as he cups your heat, his middle finger running down your slit almost teasingly, smearing the dripping shower water along with your own arousal.

Another shuddering breath fans against your neck as he dips his middle finger between your folds. “You were so wet, so tight around me,” he whispers, his words almost swallowed up by the sound of the shower and your own heartbeat in your ears. “It was maddening. I… I couldn’t stop.”

He circles your clit once, causing your hips to twitch and a soft moan to leave your lips, before he dips his finger down, pressing it against your entrance before sinking inside. You both seem to moan simultaneously as your inner walls clench tight around his thick digit.

“You were so…” He swallows thickly around another groan. “…loud. Insatiable.”

In, out, in, out. He thrusts slowly, languidly, as if savouring every contraction, every syrupy moan that left your plush lips. Slick gathers quickly, and before long the sound of his thrusting finger becomes wetter and wetter. A second finger soon joins the first, his palm pressing against your clit as his ministrations quicken, your thighs shaking in response. The steam of the shower, the heat of Nanami at your back, the fog of lust in your mind and the increasing pulse between your legs—it makes your head swim, your mind hazy and uncoordinated.

He curses as you grip his fingers particularly tight, as if imagining the sensation around his cock instead. You feel a pressure against your nape, and you dully realise it's his forehead, hot and wet with sweat and water. “Please,” he murmurs, his low voice hot and wanting. “Can I have you? Here?”

Even after all this time, he still asked—still cared enough to ask—even though your answer was always the same.

“God, yes,” you’re replying before he’s barely finished his question, every thought in your mind evaporating into the same steam swirling around you.

You’re leaning forward, arching your back before he even makes any move to position you, both of your palms resting against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Shower water sprays across your shoulders and the back of Nanami’s neck as his head follows your descent, forehead now planted between your shoulder blades. His fingers don’t stop their ministrations, but his other hand does disappear from your breast. A moment later, you gasp as you feel his fingers slip from you—replaced instead by a familiar pressure.

His cock, thick and heavy, presses against you, hesitating for only a moment before pressing forward slowly. The thicker head slips past the tight ring of muscle with a sharp stretch, your lips falling open in response as a ragged moan leaves you. No matter how many times you had done this, Nanami’s cock was always a stretch, making each time seem like the first all over again.

“God,” he gasps, his jaw falling open against your shoulder blade. “P-Perfect… so perfect.” You can feel him practically shaking with restraint as he pushes forward slowly, oh-so-fucking-slowly, until his hips finally meet your rear. As always, he gives you a moment to adjust, no matter how wound up or turned on he is—his one hand bracing against the wall near your own, the other winding back around your waist to circle your clit with slow, languid movements.

You’re shaking too, you realise, hands slipping on the wet shower wall. You clench tight around his cock despite his attempts to relax you, too wound up and dizzy with arousal to care about the discomfort. Bucking your hips back, you try to press him impossibly deeper, as if you weren’t already full of him.

He groans at the attempt though, the slight friction you grant him causing his fingers to stutter against your bud. Quickly getting the hint, he pulls back just a few inches before sinking back into you again, just as slowly as before. You both moan again at the delicious drag, before he starts to set a slow, steady rhythm—pulling out a little deeper every time until the tip threatens to slip from you with each thrust.

You had expected something quick, frantic perhaps. The dream he had seen had clearly riled him up. But Nanami was still Nanami—slow and methodical, passionate and loving.

Long, hot puffs of breath fan against your neck, matching the slow, sensual rhythm of his hips against you. You can feel his eyebrows knitted against your back, and in your mind's eye, you can already picture his expression perfectly. Flushed skin on his high cheekbones, the sweat on his brow, the slight scrunch of his eyes and parted lips.

Every thrust pushes deep, his slow pace ensuring that you felt every inch of each push until he bottomed out, only to repeat the whole cycle once more. His hand on the wall slips, bumps against your own, and with trembling fingers he places it on top of yours, pinning it against the wall before intertwining your fingers tightly.

“I love you,” he groans, his voice thick and gravelly. “I love you, ngh—“ He pushes deep again, stills for a moment as he grinds against you, before withdrawing again. “I love you so much.”

You meet his every thrust, pushing your hips back until your skin meets his with a satisfying ‘pap’. The slow, deep pace is driving you insane, deliciously perfect and yet wildly maddening. You can feel the heat pool in your gut with every stroke, the warmth blooming hotter and hotter like the slow lap of waves, threatening to consume you.

You’re greedy, you know. You need more.

You push your hips back in a quicker rhythm and Nanami’s hips stutter in response, his rhythm thrown off. He hisses, clenched teeth brushing against your nape. The fingers on your clit disappear, a strong hand grasping the plush flesh around your hip instead, steadying you. You expect him to stop you or slow your rhythm down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he stops thrusting altogether, allowing you complete control of the pace as you fuck yourself on him.

He’d always allow you to take what you wanted from him.

“Ah, y-yes, yes—“ you pant, forehead pushing forward to rest against the cool tile. You tilt your hips, angling Nanami’s cock to prod against the exact spot you need him. He curses in response to the harsh clench of your walls around him, his hips bucking forward involuntarily. “Kento—“

“Tell me what you, ngh, need,” he grits out, now matching your rhythm until the clap of your flesh starts to match the pour of the water. The hand on your hip slides up, caressing your waist in loving strokes before winding around, palming at your breast again. “A-are you close?”

“Yes!” You start to push back harder, more frantically. Nanami instantly matches it, thrust for thrust, the head of his cock dragging against your sensitive point with almost pin-point accuracy. He pinches, tweaking your nipple in a way that makes your thighs shake. “Harder, I need it—“

You don’t even have to say another word before both of Nanami’s hands disappear, only to grip your hips tightly. You feel the warm of his chest leave your back as he straightens, replaced by the spray of the shower water instead. A moment later, his pace becomes almost punishing, the hard lines of his Adonis belt hitting against the flesh of your rear with a smack.

You practically reel, something guttural and primal leaving your lips as you arch forward, bracing fully against the tiled wall in front of you. You can feel your flesh ripple, your breasts jolting with the wet smack of flesh against flesh. Even now, he’s careful never to push harder than you need it, but experience and attention allows him to get it perfect. He was always perfect.

A chorus of ‘just like that’ and ‘yes’ leaves you in a symphony, your eyes rolling and eyelids fluttering simultaneously. It doesn’t take long until you're practically clamping down on his cock like a vice, your lower stomach clenching impossibly tight as ragged, fractured moans tear from your lips. Distantly, you wonder if you’re as loud as you were in his dream—or maybe louder.

Nanami doesn’t fair any better, harsh grunts and choked groans leaving in him in rhythm with the clap of his hips. With each thrust, it seems his body hunches further inward until he’s practically curled over you, his grip tightening on your hips, thumbs digging into your skin. Deep moans smother against your shoulder as lathers you with kisses, half-formed praises coating your skin with his love.

“I’m close, my l-lo-“ He chokes up, curses, hips stuttering as he tries to maintain the hard pace. He starts pulling your hips back to meet his, cock plunging seemingly deeper and deeper—

Stars are exploding behind your eyes a second later, your abdomen clenching and rolling as you cum hard around him. You call out his name, you think, jaw falling slack as Nanami continues to thrust and thrust you through your climax, pushing you toward oversensitivity and fast. You’re clenching down on him tighter and tighter, unable to stop as you babble nonsensically, delirious and drunk on steam and release.

“S-Shit,” he hisses, his voice barely there, just breathless and torn. “So b-beautiful, so perfect, I love you, I love—“

A second later, Nanami’s following you over the edge; a deep, broken moan leaving him as his cock twitches and throbs, spilling into you. He continues to move, his hips erratic and rhythm broken, just bucking disjointedly as his voice cracks and splinters.

You’re trembling, he’s trembling, both of you panting and moaning weakly as Nanami continues to grind against you, albeit slowly. You rest your forehead against the cool tile in front of you for a moment, your hot breath making the ceramic fog up—before Nanami’s arms wind around your waist, pulling you back up and against his chest.

Your thighs are shaking, body nearly limp in his arms, but he supports you once more easily. Soft kisses and brushes of his nose rain down against the crook of your neck as his hand brushes up and down your stomach, his cock still throbbing weakly inside your warm grip. You let your head loll back against him, a tired, contented smile on your lips.

You reach a hand up and behind you, fingers fumbling for a moment before his head leans into them. You card your fingers through the short, wet strands behind his ear, a small sigh fluttering against your ear in response.

“We should shower together more often,” you murmur, which earns you a small, slightly breathless chuckle, the rumble of his chest vibrating against your back.

Eyelashes flutter against your neck as he closes his eyes. “We should.”

“In the evening though,” you add. Between the hot water and well, everything else, your body was sated but drained. “I really could fall asleep now.”

The idea of stepping out of the warmth of the shower and Nanami’s embrace only to get dressed and continue with whatever you had planned for the day wasn’t an appealing one. As if sensing this, his arms hold you tighter, unwilling to break the moment, or your intimate connection, just yet.

“Then do,” he murmurs against your ear, before pressing a soft kiss to the shell. “I’ll take you back to bed.”

And you know he would. You know that if you were to fall limp in his arms right now, he’d carry you; dry you off and settle you amongst the sheets again as if you’d never left them. It wouldn’t even be a question.

You stay awake though, body still thrumming with remnants of your connection and your muscles at ease. Tilting your head slightly, capturing a glimpse of his profile, you raise an eyebrow.

“…so?”

Nanami meets your gaze, raising an eyebrow in turn. “So?”

“Was it as good as your dream?”

He closes his eyes with a tormented sigh, burying his nose back into your skin. “…it always is.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief, angling your head to try and face him better despite him seemingly burying his face in your skin deeper, unwilling to meet his gaze. “Always?! How many dreams have you had about me like this?”

You feel a small nip at your neck, just a brush of teeth really, but that seems to tell you that these ‘dreams’ of his were far more a regularity than the stoic sorcerer was willing to let on.

masterlist.

#kento nanami x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami #kento nanami

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ink-n-shadowfiction · 8 months

Note

can u write something about ghost but if he was a dilf im going insaneee over this LOL

the way i would be such a whore for dilf!ghost o_O (i feel like he'd be kinda mean with a side of sweetness, so bear with me)

word count: 306

warning: smut (minors—DNI), dilf!ghost x babysitter!sorority girl!reader, slightly mean!ghost, simon covering your mouth, age gap (reader is in their 20s, simon is in his late 30s), obvious power dynamic, simon threatening your pay, unedited (mega apologies)

"god—you're a fuckin' whiny little thing." simon grumbled into your ear, forearms caging you in on the mattress as he speared you onto his cock and reveled in the mewl that fell from your mouth. "you this whiny for all the frat guys you fuck? or am i really just that special?”

your eyes rolled, at first in annoyance at simon’s degrading words and his arrogance—until the tip of his cock hammered into the spot deep inside of you that sent stars behind your eyelids, making another needy whine fell from your lips.

you hated the way it made simon’s mouth stretch into a smug smirk. almost as much as you hated the way simon's palm covered your lips, leaving your nostrils uncovered and forcing all of your pent breaths to rush to your nose.

"don't wanna wake the kid up, huh? you spent so long gettin' him to sleep—made me wait so fuckin' long to get my fuckin' hands on you, sweetheart." simon growled lowly into your ear, keeping himself propped up on one forearm as he drove his hips harder against yours.

you could've sworn that simon was battering bruises into the flesh of your upper thighs, the flesh becoming numb from the repeated smacks of skin bleeding up the nerves. your fingers dug into the muscles of his biceps, forehead careening down to smear lazily across his collarbone as you teetered along the edge of euphoria.

it was too much and not enough all at once, your body squirming at the contradictory signals firing off inside of your skull. simon noticed your obvious movements, pushing his body closer to yours while his hand disappeared between your bodies and his fingers pinched at your clit.

"go ahead, sweet girl—milk my cock. if you wake up the kid, though, i'm won't pay you for tonight.

#iNs requests ⭒#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost cod smut #cod smut #simon riley smut #simon riley #call of duty smut #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #iNs over 1k ❂

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axelsagewrites · 7 months

Text

Ivar the Boneless*Does He Treat You Well

Pairing: Ivar x wife!reader

Kinktober Day eleven: knife play with Ivar the Boneless – people whisper and wonder how someone so sweet could marry someone so angry, but they don’t see what Ivar does when you’re underneath him

Warnings: ivar being ivar, slight blood kink, blood, knife play, knife kink, p in v sex, nipple play, choking, hickeys, smut 18+

Masterlist Here

Kinktober List Here

You heard their whispers in the street, of course you had. You remember the concerned expressions etched into your parents face as you dedicated your heart to Ivar. You knew what people thought of him and what they feared for you.

Even Ubbe, a long close friend of yours expressed his concern. You had married Ivar a month ago yet now Ubbe was asking you the question, “Does he treat you well?” he asked in a hush whisper from where you sat at the opposite side of the hall from your husband. Your eyes flickered to Ivar as you recalled how he had treated you last night.

“Such a pretty dress,” Ivar praised as he laid by your side, his hands trailing down the fabric of your dress as you gazed up at how his pale blue eyes scanned your body, “Shame it has to go,” he muttered but you knew he was not sorry.

Especially not when he clutched the neckline, his dagger slicing through the fabric with ease. Cold air washed over your frame causing your nipples to harden while Ivar finished slicing the dress off you. his eyes raked your body, the dagger slowly being dragged up your legs. You shivered as the cool metal glided along your thigh, so light that it didn’t even scratch your skin. “Husband,” you whined, your hand gripping his wrist making his eyes raise to meet yours, “I need you,”

A low growl left his throat as his lips crashed onto yours. you felt his blade move away from your body, but you were too intoxicated by his lips to care as your hands wound up in his hair as he moved to lay over you. he broke the kiss as suddenly as he started it, his empty hand reaching to squeeze your tit before pinching one of your nipples roughly causing you to whine.

His lips moved to your collarbones, sucking harsh marks into the sensitive skin as he rolled your nipples between his fingers making it hard not to moan loudly. “Such a pretty little thing,” Ivar praised, his voice almost mocking as his eyes raked your chest.

You shivered when you felt the tip of his dagger run up your side slowly, moving over to run up your chest. As he ran the blade up between your breasts, he pressed down lightly, just enough to break the skin. A hot feeling flushed along your chest as Ivar dropped the blade, running his thumb over the cut he had made, collecting the blood on his finger.

You watched as he sucked his thumb, his eyes rolling back into his skull, “Such a sweet taste,” he praised, moving his hands from his lips to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheek bone. Your hand moved to hold his wrist softly and Ivar smiled at your tenderness in even this moment. “A gift from the gods,” he murmured, his lips falling to press soft kisses down your chest to your breasts.

“Husband,” you moaned lightly as he took your nipple into his mouth.

“What is it my sweet?” he asked, trailing his mouth to the other, sucking harshly making you gasp in pleasure.

You could feel your stomach burning and your chest aching, needing his touch despite how close he already was. Your legs moved to hook around his lower back, pulling his body down gently into yours as your hands moved to cup your face, “I need you,” you whispered, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

Ivar however growled, his kiss growing more intense as his hand moved to grab your jaw. You gasped lightly when you felt his hips grind into yours, his hard cock evident through his trousers. While you had heard the whispers of his failures in the bedroom one night with Ivar proved it had just been a mishap.

His lips moved to your jaw, kissing it harshly as he trailed down your frame. His lips soon captured your nipple, his teeth grazing it making shivers run down your spin. You felt his rough hand squeeze your thigh before it slipped between them, running a finger up your slit, “So wet for me already,” he praised, “How desperate you really are,”

“So desperate,” you whined quietly, “for you Ivar. I need you please. do not make me wait,” you begged, your hips instinctively bucking as he rubbed harsh circles onto your clit, “Please husband,”

Your words seemed to spark something in the man as his hand wrapped around your neck, the other diving beneath his trousers to fish out his cock. “You want me?” he asked, and you nodded wordlessly as you felt him line himself up with your entrance, “Then you shall have me,” he grunted, pushing his tip in slowly making you gasp at his size you had still not grown used to. His eyes screwed tight in bliss as he slowly sunk his cock all the way in, his hand trailing down your throat to your breast, squeezing it lightly.

Your hips bucked, desperate for friction, and Ivar had sensed your impatience. His hips began to move, slowly at first before falling into a brutal and relentless pace. Your legs wrapped around his hips, allowing him to hit a deeper angle making curses fall from his lips.

Your eyes screwed shut, trying to stifle the moans as your fingernails sunk into his bicep. You gasped when you felt the cold blade press against your throat, but it only added to the way your body tightened beneath him. When you opened your eyes, you were met by his icy blue ones.

For a moment you wondered if it this was the sight your husbands’ enemies were forced to see before they were sent to Odin and for a moment you thought this alone would make death worth it. but they didn’t get to feel the way you did as you felt your peak soon approaching. Ivar grabbed your hand roughly, shoving it between your bodies so you could rub fast circles into your clit.

His blade moved up, pushing against your jaw making your head tilt back as Ivar’s lips dove down to your neck, kissing down the soft skin. When you felt his arm slip under your back, pulling it up and causing it to arch, you gasped as his cock hit a new spot that somehow felt even better.

Ivar groaned at the way your cunt squeezed around him, but he was determined to last until you had, and it did not take long as with a few more specific, aimed thrusts you found your orgasm rushing over you. your body tightened, your legs wrapping around him and pulling him in deeper making Ivar groan and drop the knife. He moved his arm out from under your back, grabbing at the sheets as his thrusts grew messy and desperate, his forehead resting against yours.

You felt his body stiffen as you came down from your own peak, still panting from the high as you felt him spill inside you before collapsing on top of you in a sweaty mess. After a couple of moments to allow you both to catch your breath Ivar looked up at you, his eyes tender and sweet, “Are you okay my love?” he asked.

“Are you okay?” Ubbe’s words snapped you back from reality and your eyes darted back to him, not noticing your husband’s smirk from across the room.

You smiled warmly at your brother-in-law, “Yes and you don’t need to worry Ubbe. He treats me very well, I promise,”

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undercoverpena · 2 months

Text

going to make you sweat

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: it's the hottest day of the year; you and javi want to make it hotter.

rating: 18+/explicit warnings: explicit smut. somewhat established relationship. jo's spelling, jo putting to practice her spanish. wordcount: 1.9k

It begins with the sound of the fan.

Whirring. Whirring. Blowing nothing but warm, sticky heat around the over-boiled place.

For four days, the sun has been beating down relentlessly, acting as another unforgiving tyrant ruling over Colombia, forcing waves of heat to seep into homes, regardless of whether doors and windows are closed.

All but forcing everyone to seek refuge from the scorching onslaught.

It's why he's home.

It's why you didn't protest when his hand found your lower back, guiding you out to the passenger seat of his vehicle.

The unspoken understanding between you both fizzes in the air. All silence, discreet.

Just like the rest of the clandestine nature of your relationship.

Now, you’re lying as still as possible. Not even considering sliding your leg over to touch his—even if usually, you’d have done it a handful of times.

Cool showers offered no relief—your skin was already slick with dampness before you finished drying off. Every movement made the heat feel unbearable, trickling down your neck. Your limited attire, stuffed in a spare drawer at his, offers no relief; the white tee and panties cling to your skin, feeling like additional layers you long to peel away from your bones, not just your skin.

Your eyes flick towards him at the sound of his lighter—at the paper burning at the end, before the scent greets your nostrils.

Normally, it would barely irritate you, but now it twists your annoyance into a knot and uses it to fuel its fury. A glare not forcing him to stub it out, your mood souring, further making beads of perspiration collect along your collarbone and drip down the valley of your breasts, all but pooling where your body bends and creases as you remain on the sofa.

You can feel him watching.

Eyes likely following the path of sweat descending under your top—because even in unbelievable temperatures, you’re sure he’s mentally undressing you.

Because he looks wrecked, even with the cigarette burning between his fingers/.

Javier Peña's usually put-together look of swept-to-the-side hair is currently stuck damp to his forehead as sweat drips off the end of his sloped nose. The look is so reminiscent of what you’d imagine he'd look like if he had a full free day to fuck you; if it wasn’t rushed quickies or long, drawn-out nights before the two of you collapsed into sheets before doing it all over again on three hours of sleep.

At some point between coming home early and sitting beside you, his barely buttoned shirt has been discarded, leaving him in a pair of shorts he’d pulled on when he’d been grumbling about the fucking heat, paperwork and bureaucracy all in the space of a minute.

The fact he'd shed most of his layers allows you to trace your eyes down his body. Glance at the soft curve of his stomach, the firmness of his chest and those biceps you see flex when he’s leaning when he’s doing all he can not to flick his eyes from your face to your tits.

He's already caught you.

Taking a drag on his cigarette for a suspiciously long time before blowing the smoke out in one smooth movement. Eyes on you. Fixed. Never unfocused.

And fuck, if it doesn’t make you want him that much more.

“It’s too hot.”

“I said nothing.”

You snort. Loud. Full of intent.

Mind a scrambled mess of want, as your hips shift when your eyes flick south of his neck and land on his thighs.

“C’mon, Cariño,” he drawls, stubbing out his cigarette—punching the lit end out until it’s snuffed, “Come sit on my lap.”

A battle ensures in your skull. It’s weak, both the for and against, which is how you find yourself straddling him, palm flat to your thighs—finding the heat from his body no more intense than the sweltering environment around you.

“This what you want, me all sweaty on you?”

He chews his cheek, a glint in the dark of his eyes, a blip in the pool of desire—and your heart pounds in your chest. Breaths coming in short gasps, matching the rhythm of the fan in the corner.

"I'd have you on top of me however I can."

"Course you would," you retort.

His fingers flex, itch. Sneak in inches up your skin as he continues to breathe slowly, in and out, out and in.

You’re not sure who moves first, but your lips find his—passionate, fiery. Teeth almost grazing but your tongue slides in and licks past his teeth, swallowing his moan, his hiss, as you roll your clothed pussy over his hardening cock, tasting nothing but smoke, coffee and mint, a combination you know to be him.

“Mm—fuck,” he groans.

He sounds pained when he drags his mouth from yours, his fist full of the back of your sweat-soaked tee as he drags it off over your head—throwing it, it landing on the tiles with a wet slap, forcing your head to snap to the sound.

But he’s on you.

Mouth latching to your nipple, tongue swirling, before tracing a line up your breast and across your collarbone.

“Taste so fucking good, cariño.”

It’s stifled, the moan—forcing your best smirk to show, “Put your head between my thighs and say that, Peña.”

And he considers it.

Your words.

Head tilting marginally, the slightest of movements that he’ll pretend never occurred. But he moves, shifts. Practically bucks his hips into you as he repositions, and you land on your bare back on the sofa with an oomph.

A comment arrives on your tongue, almost fizzling before it’s swallowed at the way forces your knees together and yanks your panties down your thighs. Soaked, ruined—both from the mere existence of him and the heat. Discarding them, throws them into some dark space as he glances down at the place between your thighs.

“Even in this heat, she’s pretty.”

You try not to turn away, bury your face in the smoked-scented cushions of his sofa as his words meet you. A sudden desire to hide, to cover—

“You not like that, cariño, when I call her pretty?” His knuckles part your folds, teasing, dragging them up and down as you squirm, whine his name. “Tell me.”

Somehow, all fucking unknown to you, more heat floods your cheeks. It's embroiled in embarrassment, shyness—two things you’re sure he spends most of his time trying to fuck out of you, but has failed to do so thus far—

He says your name.

Not your nickname. Not agent.

Eyes snapping to him, throat dry as he continues to tease, as his thumb presses on your clit and makes you hiss.

“No—ffff-feel embarrassed, alright? Fuck.”

You hear his tongue click—it’s the last thing you hear before ringing. Before two fingers slide into you, slide with ease as they delve deep, his frame coming over your body as he moves them, as he curls them. Doing his best to undo as his eyes come into focus, the top of his tongue dragging over his parted lips.

And the ringing dies down.

Forced to as a pebble of sweat falls from his nose and drips to your breastbone.

“No need to be embarrassed with me.”

Your hips try to buck and seek.

“Impaciencia,” he groans—moisture glistening at the base of his throat, palm keeping you down, still, fingers curled inside of you as you gasp. “You’re… fuck. I need to taste you.”

The breath of his words sweeps over your inner thigh.

“Javi, don't tease—“

“I’ve got you, cariño—don’t worry. I’ll make you come again, and again, and…”

You’re not sure if he speaks the last again—or if it’s buried into your pussy. A high chance you blank it out with other noises as his tongue fucks into your hole. Finger on your clit, swirling, drawing shapes your brain can’t manifest or conjure as you become aware of your moans.

Out of instinct, your fingers find his hair—slick with sweat, trying to curl between your fingers as his tongue flattens. All precise, taunting. Forcing you to the edge and dangling you before pulling you back.

It almost makes you thrash, forcibly lift your hips against him when his face lifts—face slick with your want as he smirks.

“Lo sé, cariño.”

“Please.”

It leaves your lips undignified, dignity gone, transformed into more raw, desperate—a plea that cuts through heat. One answered as he lifts your knee over his hip, feeling bare skin, red hot body heat and the nudging of his cock at your entrance.

He steals your breath, it stammering as he sinks into you in one fluid movement. Your fingers grasp, finding the hair at the nape of his neck again as his mouth comes to your ear, hearing it, the hiss between clenched teeth.

When he moves, your lips find his. It’s different, softer and almost gentle. All measured movements gone, lost, thrown out when you breathe him in, when your mouths are open, moaning into each other's throats as your heels dig into his lower back.

And you want to hold on.

But he’s driven you mad. Teeth grating over his shoulder as you tug on his hair. Tasting it, sweat, sex and salt. Your neck further coated in the slick of the heat, the moment; perspiration trickling, sliding over your skin as his hand grasps your hip firmly. Tightly. Practically noticing the hints of intimacy the two of you pretend aren’t there, but rumble and thrum whenever the two of you are alone.

And the thought adds to the feeling of that impending wave rising inside of you again, more angry, needy than it had been before—

“So good for me, cariño. My good girl.”

“Yours.”

It snakes out, too late to retract. Not even caring that it’s there, staining the space between you both, polluting it. Because it’s the truth.

Some days the only thing you can full on believe—

“Yeah, that’s it. Mine, right? All fucking mine?“

His hips thrust into you harder, matching the tone that makes you even wetter than you were seconds before.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Yes. Yes. Ye—”

“Fuck, cariño.”

You‘re close. So close. It almost blinding in the way it tries to force your eyes to clench shut, but you can't look away. Not from him. Each flex of his muscles, the way his teeth grit as he fucks into you, makes your body both taut and boneless.

“Wanna feel you, cariño,” he groans, breath ragged, tortured out. “Let me feel you come, baby. Please.”

Tightening around him, fingers jerking on his hair, he meets your eyes.

Not able to fight it, not able to stop it from unravelling as it begins to crest—

"Let me feel you come, baby. Please." His tone all full of gravel, insistent, demanding. Practically unwilling to bend as it brushes itself into your ear.

His name cracks out of your throat like thunder, slamming against the walls as it rips through you. Making your back arch into him, hearing him groan; hearing him hiss and fucking moan as you shake, thighs quaking around his sweat-tinged skin before he grunts as he spills into you.

It’s silence, except for heaving breaths.

The dull noise of the fan comes back to you, replacing the ringing from before as you slowly peel your legs from his body.

You’re not sure what you expect when he lifts his head, but it isn’t the look there. The one matched with a smile, sly but still a smile—chest rising and falling as he kneels, staring down at you.

Taking you in, flicking his eyes to the place the two of you had just been conjoined.

“Fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

And even if you roll your eyes, you hide a smile behind the back of your hand, whispering a "Cállate, Peña."

#javier pena x reader #javi peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javi peña smut #narcos x reader

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