#tw:daddy kink
Text
⋆₊˚⊹♡ vox + marking you
character: vox
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, marking/branding (carving something into the skin), blood, toxic relationship, extreme possessiveness, daddy kink, dacryphilia, fem!reader, minimal/no prep, dubcon if you squint, pet names, painful sex, reader doesn’t get to orgasm
words: 1.8k
notes: vox likes to mark what belongs to him. permanently. and, as always, that mark must be perfect.
He’s been at it for nearly half an hour now, a slow drag of his index claw downward, pressure concentrated on the very point of the talon, following the line of a perfect slant before sharply pivoting upward, velocity slowing as it works back toward your hips, tracing another slant perfectly parallel to the first.
V.
A split second of reprieve, a single instant where the metal leaves your skin only to find the origin of the wound and begin the process all over again.
“V-Vox—”
“Don’t move, sweetheart,” he warns, his voice low and airy, so close and concentrated on his work that you can feel his breath wafting over the cut, cool and burning.
Cyan pupils pulse as they expand, desperate to devour as much as they can, scouring every minute detail and honing their focus on the singular letter he’s painstakingly carving into your pubic bone.
He’s meticulous with it, of course, just as he is with everything else, every movement precise and perfect. It has to be done this way, he had told you at the start, when you had whined about the deliberately drawn-out drag of his talon. Slow and steady, so it will heal in sharp, neat lines, all raised and gorgeous.
A permanent mark of ownership, scarred into your skin for the rest of eternity.
The tapered tip of the V is the worst part, the harsh, quick maneuver of his claw procuring a deep sting, a yelp sticking in your throat as you try to swallow against the sound, Vox’s immediate responding coo, always accompanied by the brush of his thumb over your hip in the gentlest caress, doing little to soothe the pain.
“But it—it hurts,” you hiccup out, eyes squeezing shut tightly against the prick of tears. “How much longer?”
“Just a few more times, baby, I promise,” he presses a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, glancing up at you. “You’re doing so well for me, lovebug, so well.”
But a few more times turns into another agonizing fifteen minutes with seemingly no end in sight, Vox lost in the repetitive actions, and the wound is starting to tingle, sticky crimson pooling in the flawlessly carved gouges, staining teal bright red.
Tears have begun to leak from the corners of your eyes as they finally overflow, spilling past your lash line to stream down the sides of your temples in uneven little trails, vision gone blurry with a thick shield of water.
Your ribs stammer with half-stifled sobs, a soft hush distractedly falling from Vox’s lips with each minuscule jerk of your body, the hand on your hip tightening in warning.
“Daddy’s almost done, darling,” he pacifies, a gentle threat sewn into his tone—don’t fucking move yet—we’re so close, don’t you dare mess this up. “Just a tiny bit longer, I swear.”
“I can’t, I can’t, Daddy, it’s—it’s too much!”
“Hey,” he looks up, a shock of sincerity slapped across his face, his voice ringing with painfully raw compassion. “I know you can handle just a few more for Daddy, can’t you? Don’t you want it to look pretty, too?”
Large eyes search your face with a rabid type of candour, hunting for validity. But your head is already nodding before he’s even finished speaking, motions becoming increasingly vigorous, an instinctual reaction, at this point—obedient as ever, desperate to please.
Of course you do—you want whatever he does, always.
“Y-Yes,” you manage to sniffle out, the heels of your hands wiping messily at your lashes, smearing tears across your cheeks. “Yes, yes, Daddy.”
His eyes soften, their usually bold glow dimmed with a sick sort of adoration, but his smile is barbed, stretching with something sinister.
“There’s my good girl,” Vox purrs, pressing another tender kiss to the junction of your thigh and your hip. “Now, hold still while Daddy finishes.”
Another three traces through the routine—these last three harder and more purposeful than all those that came before them—and finally, he’s done, sitting back on his heels between your spread legs and gazing down at his masterpiece.
Blood drips down his index finger in a thick dollop, his eyes shifting to watch with morbid fascination, the tip of his claw glazed with shimmering scarlet. Tilting it one way, then the other, he examines how it gleams in the low light of his bedroom—so pretty, he looks so pretty stained with you—then brings the talon to his lips, long tongue snaking from between his teeth to curl around it in a possessive embrace.
He sucks it into the heat of his mouth, a low groan rumbling deep behind his sternum as his eyes slip shut, taking a moment to savour the taste of you. His lids snap back open a moment later, eyes drifting back to the freshly etched V, his free hand moving to rub at his cock, straining eagerly against his trousers.
“F-Fuck,” he shudders out, the word soft as he stares at it, wide and unblinking, rolling the impressive bulge in his palm in lopsided little circles, then grinding the heel of his hand into it, his hips twitching up instinctively. “Daddy’s gonna fuck you now, okay, princess?”
Your head is nodding, but you’re barely able to utter out an affirmative, because then he’s surging forward, a palm cupping your jaw as his fingers hook behind the hinge, pulling your face towards his and smashing your lips together. Bursts of copper explode on your tastebuds as he drags his tongue across yours—the slick muscle stronger, larger, wider as it shoves its way into your mouth, impelling your own tongue further into the hot, wet cavern.
It’s sloppy and slippery and so, so sexy, his claws piercing your skin with superficial little pricks as he tries to yank you closer, your nose scrunched against his screen. Obscene squelching echoes throughout his bedroom as your lips glide and nip, copious amounts of drool, tinged pink with your blood, oozing from the corners of your conjoined mouths, leaving your chins shining with spit.
He overrides your senses, overwhelms your receptors and infuses your mind with nothing but him—his taste, smoky spice infused with metallic notes; his scent, sharp balsam and expensive cologne; his touch, still burning at the apex of your thighs, a constant reminder, an everlasting claim.
A sharp gasp breaks the kiss as he forces his cock inside of you, forehead knocking against your own with a dark growl as his hips rock forward, burying himself in your cunt in a single, fluid motion.
Large hands curl around your hips, pinning them in place and keeping you from squirming away as he ruts into you, grinding his cockhead further into your cervix, ensuring he’s buried as deep as he possibly can be.
A singular moment, a breath shared between the two of you, oxygen sparse and dizzying as he takes time to revel in the feeling of filling you to the hilt, your sweet little hole spasming around him as it stretches and splits, eager to accommodate his girth, to gorge on his flesh.
Leaning back on his haunches, he drags your hips along with him, tailbone resting on his folded thighs, your knees thrown over either side of his hips.
There’s no warning, no slow start or gradual build up, his cock slamming into you searing and sudden, fucking a gorgeous cry of his name from your throat.
His chest heaves with ragged exhales as his hips pump, hard and fast and rough, voracious gaze swapping between your bouncing tits and the crisply engraved V glittering up at him on your pubic bone, still coloured with blood, drizzling past the scrupulously incised grooves with each vicious ram to stream down your skin, leaving tiny streaks of red.
The gash enchants him, pupils swollen as they soak up the sight, captivated by the way it quivers with every ruthless thrust into you, watching each drive of his cock as he sheathes himself in your cunt. The glistening arousal coating his shaft contrasts the blood so perfectly, the hands on your waist yanking downward with every jackhammer of his hips, forcing you to meet his motions.
“Mine, mine, mine,” he’s snarling as he fucks you, the word punched from his chest with each plunging thrust.
“Yours, Daddy,” you sob out with messy little nods, dainty fingers braceletting his wrists, nails sinking into thin skin as you cling to him. “Yours, yours!”
“No one gets to have you like this,” he gasps out, voice gone hoarse. “No one, tell me.”
“No one—No one gets to have me like this but you, Da-Daddy,” you nearly wail, staring up at him with such bright devotion it almost hurts, your gaze lacquered with tears.
“Ah, fuck,” he whimpers, the curse shattering on his tongue, his eyes shutting tightly for a moment before springing back open, gaping and gluttonous. “Yeah, yeah, you’re goddamn right.”
His motions have turned downright brutal now, every pound of his cock more merciless than the last, the strike of his hips jostling your entire body up the mattress, just barely held in place by the grip of his claws, razored points puncturing your flesh and scraping, tiny trickles of blood oozing from the lacerations.
“Your mind, your cunt, your fucking soul—it all belongs to me,” digitized blood drips from the corner of his mouth, the glaring glow of his eyes so brilliant it’s hard to bear, casting a flare of red across your skin.
“Yes, yes, y-yes,” you’re babbling out, gone delirious with the heady intoxication of pain and pleasure, fingers digging into his flesh in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. “You own me, Vox.”
“Oh, Christ—”
The confirmation has him cumming quickly, hips pressed flush to your ass as his cock throbs violently, stuffing you full with copious amounts of thick, burning cum. His body stills, keeping his hips shoved up against you, almost as if he’s trying to plug you, to keep his seed inside of you, to claim you from the inside out.
But it’s so much—too much—and you can feel it exuding past his shaft to dribble down your skin, leaving behind streams of pretty pearlescent strokes.
Finally, he pulls out of you, another cracked curse falling from his lips as he watches with a sort of sordid obsession, his cock glazed with his cum and your blood, the tops of his thighs smeared with his own essence.
“So beautiful,” he whispers to himself, claw reaching out to trace the V again, a hiss spit from between your teeth, body trembling with the effort to stay still, to resist flinching away from his stinging touch, to be good for him. “So fucking perfect.”
Slinking down the bed, he wedges his head between your spread thighs to inspect the wound more thoroughly, teal tongue unfurling from his mouth to lave over the deep cut, mopping up excess blood as he follows the contours carefully once, twice, three times.
“Mine,” he murmurs, planting a gentle kiss atop the wound, sealing the breathy claim into your flesh. “Mine, forever.”
“Yours,” you whisper, looking down at him as your finger outlines the V affectionately, a loving caress of what he’s gifted you. “Yours, forever.”
#vox x reader#vox smut#vox x you#hazbin hotel smut#vox headcanons#hazbin hotel x reader#vox x y/n#hazbin hotel x you#tw:blood#tw:branding#w:toxic relationship#tw:daddy kink#inky.vox#inky.hazbin
532 notes
·
View notes
Text
i’m gonna sleep cause you live in my daydreams
character: alhaitham
genre: smut with a sprinkle of fluff
notes: eee first alhaitham piece!!! please heed the warnings for this piece; reader is quite bratty and avid in her quest to get alhaitham to pay attention to her! this technically isn’t written in canon (aka it would be considered a modern!au) but this is hardly noticeable since there’s no mention of visions or canon events etc within the piece | title credit: take a slice by glass animals
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, slight dubcon, minimal prep, sex gets rougher near the end, size kink/size difference, reader is a Brat with a capital B, daddy kink, one instance of name calling (slut), alhaitham is very clearly a professor in this although it isn’t explicitly mentioned, cock sucking, cock riding, a tiny bit of crying, dom/sub power dynamics, praise, reader is female, hints of a toxic relationship
words: 4.5k
synopsis:
It’s horribly selfish, you know it is, and on most days you can control yourself, can render yourself content with the fragments of attention he affords you, cradling them in your hands, savouring them like precious candies, hesitant to put them in the heat of your mouth lest they melt too quickly. But he’s been gone so often lately, busy with papers to grade and applications to reject and lectures to teach, and you just miss him so much.
And today, you can’t control yourself.
But trying to get your Daddy to take notice of you when he’s preoccupied, absorbed in the pages of his book or sucked into the writings of his dense work, is no easy feat.
Luckily, you’re a pro at it.
The late afternoon sun streams through the stained glass in large, lazy strokes, painting the room a glowing gold-tinged green. Motes of dust shimmer in the beams, floating aimlessly in their warm light, your eyes trailing their movement halfheartedly. A gust of wind wanders through the open window, slow and careless, dispersing the specks, and you sigh.
It’s Sunday.
You hate Sundays.
Because Sundays are the days before Mondays, and Mondays are the day Daddy goes back to work, and Daddy likes to spend Sundays doing nothing—which, in Alhaitham speak, translates to spending the whole day lounging around and reading.
It’s fine for the first little while, laying with your head in Daddy’s lap as his headphones cup your ears and sing you into a state of semi-consciousness, the fingers of his free hand brushing across your scalp, mindlessly tracing along the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the shell of your ear, then repeating the routine in an endlessly loop as aqua eyes fly across the pages of his book.
And, sure, that’s nice, feels nice, just basking in the company of one another, coexisting in an easy, peaceful, almost languid sense, but you only have a mere shard of his attention; a sliver, hardly sustainable for the entire day—and you, being the greedy little thing you are, want more.
It’s horribly selfish, you know it is, and on most days you can control yourself, can render yourself content with the fragments of attention he affords you, cradling them in your hands, savouring them like precious candies, hesitant to put them in the heat of your mouth lest they melt too quickly. But he’s been gone so often lately, busy with papers to grade and applications to reject and lectures to teach, and you just miss him so much.
And today, you can’t control yourself.
But trying to get your Daddy to take notice of you when he’s preoccupied, absorbed in the pages of his book or sucked into the writings of his dense work, is no easy feat.
Luckily, you’re a pro at it.
It starts slow, almost unobtrusive in a way, as it usually does on days such as these.
Turning your head, you scatter a few kisses along his inner thigh, dangerously close to his cock, nose nuzzling against black denim; needy, clingy.
Teal eyes flick down, sparing you a millisecond glance, lips quirking up into the breath of a smile and snorting before going back to his book.
Alright, that’s fine, you can do better.
Nosing at the outline of his cock, you smirk as you feel it begin to fill with life, your tongue unfurling from your mouth to flatten against the half-hard lump and curl, lips closing around it a moment later and sucking. Drool begins to collect at the corners of your stretched mouth, quickly drenching the material as you grind your tongue over his cock in slow, hard, repetitive motions, the denim rough against your sensitive skin, leaving behind tiny burning tingles.
This time, he doesn’t even bother looking at you, doesn’t bother going through the trouble, the only indication he’s even affected at all the slight hitch in his breath and how quickly he hardened beneath your lips.
“Are you misbehaving?”
“Maybe,” a cross between a purr and a pout. “What are you gonna do about it?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
An indignant huff leaves your mouth in a whoosh, uncontrollable and automatic, features crunching under the force of your pout as it deepens.
“You can act like a little slut if you want to,” his voice is passive, dismissive, though there’s a ghost of a smirk on his face, one corner of his lips twitching and tugging upward. “But you’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m going to bother entertaining such behaviour. Brats don't deserve Daddy’s attention.”
His words spark a fierceness behind your ribs, bright and blazing, and you swallow against the urge to grin. You can tell from his word choice alone that he’s game, player two rising to his rightful place and ready to play, his claim a prompt, a challenge, a puzzle for you to solve, for you to win.
Grumbling under your breath, you turn over with more force than strictly necessary, purposefully jostling his body, clothing rustling against the leather of the couch, and sink your teeth into his thigh, teeth scraping against denim. His cock, pressed tight to your neck now, twitches once.
Squirming a little, you flip yourself onto your stomach and tuck your knees beneath you, back arched, ass in the air. Dainty fingers find his belt buckle, undoing it with a practiced carelessness, movements vague and loose.
He chuckles—nothing more than a patronizing little snicker, gurgled at the back of his tongue—but keeps his gaze averted, arms raising to make room for your body as you adjust your position, elbow resting on your lower back, fingers flicking the next page.
His cock, massive and leaking, strains against the soft cotton of his briefs, material sticky and wet from your copious amount of spit, clinging to him, outlining the smooth shaft and the ridges of the head.
Pre-cum dribbles through the fabric, a pretty jewel shimmering near the elastic waistband, garnishing the head.
It’s such a pretty sight, tongue peeking out from between your lips to lap it up, giggling a little as more instantly oozes through the cotton, another dewdrop of arousal assembling in it’s previous place.
The taste lingers on your tongue, bitter and strong like his favourite roast of coffee, searing itself into your tastebuds. Your mouth waters, nerves tingling for more of his essence, desperation collecting in the dips and crevices beneath your tongue and along your gums, thick and staved.
It’s quiet as your fingers curl in the waistband and tug, but he lifts his hips, silently aiding you in your venture, and you smirk up at him, eyes burning into his face, a flare of pride igniting in your chest when you see his gaze still, staring motionlessly at the page, abstaining from the temptation to meet your own.
But for now, that’s enough—enough of a reaction to fuel you further, to feed that hunger just enough to keep it wanting more—and your eyes refocus on the task at hand, jeans and briefs yanked haphazardly halfway down his thighs.
His cock is monstrous, gorgeous, all straight lines and velvet skin and gleaming with smeared dewdrops of pre-cum steadily accumulating in the slit, a singular thick vein ivied along the underside—your favourite vein, the one that pulses eagerly, the one that rushes with new bouts of blood with each upward pull of your mouth—and you use a palm to steady yourself, gripping his thigh as your lips part, little pants of breath hot against his skin.
With a hand firmly wrapped around the base, you feed him to yourself, taking him inch by inch down your throat, leisurely and teasing just the way you know he hates it, jaw stretching wider and wider the further you gorge yourself on him.
You make it about three quarters of the way—never can fit him completely in your mouth without a little bit of his help—before you drag your mouth back up, lips leaving the prettiest shimmer of spit, a thin film coating his cock, aiding your hand in its slide.
It’s slow but deep, each stroke of your mouth ramming his cock down your throat as best you can, tongue curling almost possessively around the shaft as cheeks hollow on the pull back up, that big vein throbbing against your flesh.
His blood must be fucking buzzing, because you can feel it, the sudden influx that courses almost violently through his cock with each tug of your mouth upwards, procuring another surge of blood teeming with fizz.
It has your own thighs clenching, knees pressed tightly together, body shifting only slightly as you squirm—though you do not kid yourself into thinking that he doesn’t notice it, those minuscule mannerisms, that faint wiggle—a torrent of heat flooding the apex of your thighs, clit throbbing hungrily.
It’s difficult to glance up at him from this angle, head turning just enough to catch a glimpse of his mostly indifferent profile, the only change in his demeanour the flexing of his set, strong jaw as his molars grind together.
But that’s just not good enough, is it?
It’s getting messy now, just the way you know he likes it, lips glittering with your own drool, dollops of it running down his shaft in thick streams, pooling on his heavy balls. Saliva has soaked your own hand already, too, cumulating in the gaps of your fisted fingers and outlining your nailbeds, aiding you palm in slick strokes as it follows the trajectory of your mouth, viscous ropes keeping the two connected.
It dribbles off your jaw in big, fat globs, and you tug your mouth, almost reluctantly so, off his cock to lick at his balls with a certain voraciousness, avid in your quest not to waste a single drop of your combined fluids, chin glazed with your essence (because you know how Daddy hates waste).
Using this as an opportunity, you look up again, heart hardening into cold platinum when you discover that barely anything has changed, his eyes still flying across the pages of his stupid book, albeit a little slower now, tracing and then re-tracing certain lines as your tongue laves over his balls in flat, fat strokes. His own tongue darts out to glide along his bottom lip, drawing into his mouth and biting down on it, fast and hard, before releasing it.
With a petulant little mewl, you nuzzle your face against his bare thigh, nose brushing his drenched cock, and he swallows thickly, defined Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion, tongue curling around his teeth and sucking on them, eyes pausing for a mere moment before resuming their reading, gaze dragging across the words with a cultivated concentration.
A cute grumble rattles around in your chest, features chiseled in a tight, deep pout—brows knitted, nose scrunched, chin puckered—and you resume sucking him off with renewed vigour, desperate to garner his full attention, desperate for him to snap.
Because the tiny cracks in his mask of passivity are not enough. You want it to shatter into sharp shards, you want him to spare you more than a moment of recognition, you want him to pay attention to you!
Obscenity fills the room, your slurping vulgar as you slobber all over him, the rhythmic squelching of your hand as it pumps the shaft crude, filthy, voice muffled as you whine, high and pitchy and needy, around his cock.
But if the noise bothers him, he refrains from saying anything, readjusting his grip on his book, as if grasping it tighter will help him fine tune his focus.
It isn’t until you’re choking yourself on him—head bobbing hard and fast as rough coughs tangle in your throat, routinely shoved back down by the head of his cock; tears streaming down your cheeks, leaving glistening trails in their wake and spiking your fluttering lashes; chest hitching with suppressed little sobs that twitch your nose and tremble your chin, sprouting claws as they tear at your ribs, desperate to be released from their cage—that he finally acknowledges you.
“It’s difficult for Daddy to concentrate with his cock shoved down your throat,” he warns, words straining just a touch. A large hand threads itself through the hair at the back of your skull, tugging you off his cock with unexpected tenderness.
“Really?” you ask, unable to quell the brattiness frothing viciously in your chest, voice wrecked and ruined, another cough strangling itself on the back of your tongue as you stubbornly fight past it. “It wasn’t such a difficult feat for you in the past, what changed?”
His nostrils flare as he exhales, breath sharp and hard and heavy, jaw clenching twice and stare never straying from his book, though his eyes have stopped moving again, gaze unfocused and hazy.
Your tongue slithers out from between a haughty little smirk, tip trailing around the head of his cock in an unhurried loop before digging into the slit, daring.
“Why are you lying to me, Daddy?”
“Why are you being bad, baby?” he answers your question with another, finally looking down at you fully, hand with the book sagging just a touch. His eyes are considerate, curious, concerned, notes of genuine worry infusing his tone.
Sudden guilt swamps your stomach, thick and sticky as it sinks into your gut and solidifies, and you swallow against the sour sludge staining the back of your tongue. Are you being bad? Have you blurred the boundaries between playful brattiness and real brattiness without even realizing?
“I—I—” the word hitches, but you push through. “I’m sorry,” you whimper, and you really do sound regretful, eyes shining as you look up at him, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle.
“What’s going on with my girl, huh? What’s got my little princess acting up like this?” his gaze searches your face, slow, scrutinizing, as if he can decipher the answer through your features alone. “It’s become clear that this is more than your usual coltish brattiness,” he says carefully. “You aren’t usually this…aggressive.”
“I just—” you begin, heat seeping into your cheeks, nails digging into your palms as you resist the urge to hide, to bury your face in his tummy and whine, feeling exceptionally childish and chastised. “I want your attention, that’s all. I miss you.”
“Miss me?” he blinks, brow furrowing with confusion. “I’m right here, sweetheart.”
“Are you, though?”
The question is fragile, wobbly as if you may cry, words leaving your lips before you can even assess them, and he frowns, placing the book face down and open on his thigh, muscles holding his place.
A film of memories glazes his eyes—a look he gets when he recollects and categorizes important information, and you swear you can almost see him shuffling through that big brain of his, analyzing, dissecting, concluding—before his features soften, melting under a sudden realization, and he tuts his tongue, tugging you into a sitting position and tenderly removing his headphones from your ears.
How can he scold you for behaving in such a way, when he’s been neglecting you, failing to recognize the cues—all of the signs and the symptoms; the way you twined yourself up in him on Monday night, reluctant to let go even for a moment, reluctant to go to bed on your own; the way you insisted on curling up in his lap on Wednesday while he did his marking, even though it was an absolute waste of time for you, drifting between napping on his chest and idly scrolling through your phone; and now, today, on one of his only days off, borderline ignoring you as you practically begged for him to pay you a few shreds of notice—failing to recognize what you need.
“Daddy’s been neglecting you, hasn’t he,” he sighs gently.
“Well, it’s—”
“No, no, he has,” Alhaitham cuts you off, voice stern. “Sundays are meant to be for both of us, aren’t they? For us to enjoy together, no? Especially after such a stuffed week.”
“I guess so,” you mumble, picking at a loose thread on his sweater, eyes focused on your fingers. “But it was rude of me to interrupt your reading like that. I—” Shame burns in your throat, achy and stinging. “I know better than to do such a thing.”
“It was, and you do,” he agrees with you, even and pragmatic. “You should have just communicated with Daddy instead of trying to provoke him. You’re a big girl, you’re capable of using your words.”
“You’re right, Daddy, I—”
“But,” he continues, speaking over you. “I should’ve picked up on the signs, too. I’m not a mind reader, and honest, open communication is important in any relationship, but I should’ve noticed something was wrong sooner and pressed the issue instead of dismissing it in favour of work, irregardless of how busy I was. That’s a Daddy’s duty.”
Tears prick your eyes, a heaviness you hadn’t realized you had been holding instantly eradicated, the platinum encasing your heart dissolving into sparkles of silver—light, sweet, happy.
“Hey, look at me, princess,” a thumb and forefinger grasp your chin, nudging your head up. “If Daddy lets you ride his cock, will you behave? Then can Daddy read?”
A compromise.
“Okay,” you’re whispering with a tiny nod, his hands finding your hips and hauling you toward him, into his lap. “Yeah, okay.”
A palm wraps around the base of his cock as you hover above it, holding it steady. He’s still soaked from your spit, your cunt slick from sucking his cock, enabling you to sink down easily enough, cute little hole stinging with the sudden stretch.
“Ah,” you whimper, eyes squeezed shut tightly, forehead pressed to his. “Hurts, Daddy.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he pacifies, slightly breathless. “But I know you can take it for me, right? Show Daddy how you can take his cock.”
Of course you can take it for him, will always take it for him. He’s so fucking big, though, both girth and length well above average, but you were too impatient to be properly prepped, and he was too impatient to insist on it, the fingertips prodding your cunt deeming you wet enough to ride him.
He reaches for his book just as you bottom out, cockhead pressed snugly to your cervix, tiny spears of pain slicing through your gut, cunt spasming as it attempts to accommodate him.
A satisfied sigh slips from your parted lips, body molding into his—chests pressed flush against one another, sharp hipbones digging into plush inner thighs, face nuzzling into the junction of his neck. His chin rests on your shoulder as he resumes his reading, allowing you to wiggle around in his lap a little, getting used to the feeling of being stuffed full.
“That better, baby?” he asks, the question barely more than a wisp of breath, curling enticingly around your ear.
“Much,” you breathe, head nodding in slow, languid movements. “Thank you, Daddy.”
His lips press a kiss to your temple in response, distracted, already drowning in the pages of his book again as you begin to move.
It doesn’t take long before you’re whimpering into his shoulder with each uneven rut of your hips, small puffs of Daddy hot against his skin, letters of his designation humid and sticky. Silver hair twines around your fingers as you toy with the tufts at the base of his skull, hands laced lazily behind his neck.
It’s a little pathetic, a little desperate, how you aimlessly hump away at him—not chasing anything, just enjoying the sensation, enjoying being close with him—slick coating your inner thighs and staining his jeans, thick puddles of it seeping through the material and dampening his flesh.
But it’s so good, cords of drool drivelling from your mouth and onto his sweater, leaving tiny gleaming pools, eyes half-lidded and rolling, each brush of his cock against your favourite spot pushing another sweet little sound from your lips.
It’s all so languid, all so easy, just as Sundays should be, your cheek smushed against his shoulder as you drift between dreamy states of pleasure, forehead pressed to his neck, babbling out nonsense, his title tied into a knotty thread on your tongue.
“Daddy, Daddy, DaddyDaddyDaddy,”
“You’re doing so well, princess,” he murmurs, attention straying from his book for a moment to nose along your jaw. “Keep riding Daddy’s cock like that.”
You nod, stupid and giddy and so, so warm, drawing a deep inhale as if you’re attempting to breathe him in, to suck him down, to store him in your lungs forever—cedarwood and mint with just a hint of smoke—copious amounts of saliva gathering beneath your tongue.
Pulling back slightly, you lick at his skin, dragging your tongue up the curve of his neck in long, wide strokes, gathering him in your mouth. A delicate shiver jolts through his body as your breath hits the trails of gleaming spit left in your tongue’s wake, and you giggle a little, kittenishly licking at his skin again, watching through glassy eyes as chills erupt across his flesh.
Clearing his throat roughly, he gargles the beginnings of a curse, the hand on your hip flexing, blunt nails sowing his name into your skin.
“Does that feel good, Daddy?”
“You always feel good,” he responds steadily, but his voice is husky, the edges of his words raspy and ragged with lust.
Another giggle pries its way past your lips, burrowing back into his shoulder as the rocking of your hips becomes more vigorous, vengeful, almost, relishing in his resulting smothered gasp.
Oh, how you love it when he gets like this, when he engages in this game with you, puzzles and challenges back on again after establishing some new ground rules. Because you know he gets off on this, too; on pretending to ignore you, pretending to be unaffected. But you can feel it, the micro-movements of his hips as they rut against you, or the gentle catch of his breath on his sternum, or the occasional soft grunt that manages to slip off his tongue.
He loves it just as much as you do.
It procures little sparks in your belly, sprouts tiny flames across your flesh nourished by every tiny yet colossal reaction you manage to elicit from him. They blaze brighter, brilliant, with each swipe of your slick clit on his pubic bone, a string of airy moans leaking from your mouth.
“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, a touch of patronization imbuing his tone. “Use Daddy’s cock to get yourself off.”
Your hips speed up with his encouragement, gyrating in fast, tight little circles, fingers readjusting their grip on his neck and nails taking root in his flesh, carving tiny constellations into him.
That book is still in his hand, pages crinkling under the strength of his grip, but he is no longer looking at it, oceanic gaze enraptured by you.
He’s so fucking pretty, tufts of silver hair clumped with salt, tips wet and sticking to his sheen temples and neck. Azure eyes practically glow as they devour you—all of your precious little expressions; the crumple of your brow and the dancing of your lashes and the quiver of your mouth—pupils gaping and gluttonous. His breath wafts over your skin in quick, harsh, hard little pants, but his voice stays relatively steady.
“Look at my baby, so good for her Daddy,”
A whimper spills from your throat, forehead knocking against his own as slippery hands readjust their position, twining together behind his neck. Those tiny blazes have bloomed into a single inferno, flames licking at the walls of your insides, cinders seeping through your flesh and bubbling your blood, chased by another collection of sparks sent searing through your body with each bounce on his cock.
“You gonna cum?” he asks, breathless words tapering off into a whine, his nose nudging against yours, sweet, soft. “Daddy wants you to cum for him, baby,”
“But I—ah—I want your cum, too, Daddy!” you cry, pulling back to look at him with beseeching eyes, searching his face in an almost frantic manner. “Please, Daddy, please stuff me full of your cum, please, Daddy, I—I wanna be so full that I can’t take it anymore, until it’s too much for my little cunt and it starts leaking out and—”
“Fuck,” he groans, the word deep and dark as his book falls from his hands, clattering to the floor.
Large hands curl around your waist, eager and urgent as they halt your movements, his own hips snapping up half a second later as they begin to jackhammer into you, cockhead pounding against your sore cervix.
It jostles your entire body, limp and pliable and weightless between his palms as he fucks you.
He’s ruthless in his pursuit to give you what you want, grip so tight it’s a marvel he doesn’t crush your bones beneath his fingers, blotches of grey and violet flowering across your skin, planted by blood vessels as they break.
The pain only works to complement the pleasure, head falling forward again as you mewl out his name, eyes roiling in your skull, shrouded by a thick haze of passion.
“There you go, baby, there you go,” he pants out, forcing your hips to move faster, harder, practically bouncing you in his lap. “Don’t stop, you got it,”
The illusion of choice has another moan barreling up your throat—you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to, Alhaitham now entirely in control—but you nod your head anyway, playing along, thighs burning as the muscles strain, trying to aid him.
He’s close, you can tell, gorgeous little grunts streaming from his lips, steadily pushed from deep in his chest with every buck into you and peppered with gasps. His brow is drawn, unblinking eyes intent on your face, that well-worn mask of passivity completely evaporated, features tinged with smoldering desire.
It’s all so incredible, that inferno raging inside of you furling into a tight ball of fire, a seed in the beginning stages of florescence, nurtured by one, two, three slams of his cock before it blossoms in the most beautiful way; a brilliant blaze, a carnivorous thing that swallows you whole, engulfs you in its flames and draws you into its center, sweet little cunt clenching around him as it gushes torrents of heat, making a mess all over his thighs.
“Christ,” he nearly whines, the fingers splayed on your hips gouging into flesh, forcing you to fuck yourself on his cock twice more before he’s cumming, too, with a soft gasp of your name, breath shattering on his tongue.
Thick cum stuffs you to the hilt as his cock throbs violently, warm and comforting as it fills your insides, and you sigh dreamily, body melting between his hands, slumped against his heaving chest.
“Feeling better now?” he murmurs softly, knuckles stroking your hair, your responding hum and lethargic nodding causing him to chuckle, the sound vibrating against your cheek. “Good.”
He leans down to pick up his forgotten novel, one strong arm wrapped around your waist keeping you clung to him as he does, and a few dollops of cooling cum ooze from your raw cunt, whining a little at the loss. You can feel them, dribbling out of you at a slow but steady pace, down your Daddy’s balls and onto the couch. Kaveh is going to kill you for that.
“Now rest, baby,” Alhaitham’s instructing as he sits back up, planting a kiss on the crown of your head before flipping through the pages in an attempt to find his previous spot. “Daddy has one more chapter he wants to finish before dinner.”
#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham smut#genshin x reader#genshin smut#waaaaah i had such a blast writing this i am so iN LOVE WITH HIMMMM#tw:toxic relationship#tw:daddy kink
522 notes
·
View notes
Text
oct 17th: ichigo kurosaki
ichigo kurosaki x fem. reader
wc: 3.1k
warnings: stepcest, daddy kink, slightly jealous ichigo, possessiveness, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering (f!receiving), multiple orgasms (f!receiving), grimmjow and ichigo tension, mentions of masturbation, ichigo’s kinda pervy here, mention of voyeurism, noncon photo taking (reader is asleep when he takes the picture)
synopsis: your sweet stepbrother shows you a different side to him
Ichigo prides himself on being a great big brother, it has always been an easy feat for him but this is the first time he and his morals have ever been put to the test.
Your mother married Isshin when you were still in high school but Yuzu, Karin and Ichigo welcomed you to the family like you were always part of it, making it easy for you to adapt and made you feel safe. Ichigo was a year older than you so you clung to him when it came to adjusting into school and often stood with him whenever you wanted to hang out with someone. Then when it came to college and when he found out you got accepted into the same college he was attending, he didn’t give it a second thought to let you move in with him. He’s lived with you for a few years when you and the family were all together so what would stop him now?
He didn’t realize that things would be so different when he was alone with you, how even just sitting in the living room while watching a movie just felt suffocating. It was odd to him, he didn’t like the burning in his stomach whenever he saw you walking around in just a towel after your shower or walking around in a shirt you stole from him. He didn’t like the thoughts that he had whenever he was alone in the confines of his room. He didn’t like how his thoughts of you turning into ones filled with lust rather and pure.
Most of all, he hated that he needed to make you his.
His fist wasn’t enough anymore and you not only caught his attention you also caught the attention of other guys. He didn’t mind most of them, Keigo was harmless and always girl-crazy, the boys in your classes were harmless and never really posed a threat, but there was one person that he had to keep a close eye on, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.
You met Grimmjow in your ethics in society course and from the moment he found out you were Ichigo’s step sister, he decided to make a move on you. It was little compliments that evolved to lingering touches which later grew to him asking you out on dates. You declined the offers due to pure nerves but the more persistent he was, the more you wanted to say yes. You never told Ichigo though, you knew there was tension between the two bright haired males and you didn’t want Ichigo to get mad.
It was Friday night and you were sitting with Ichigo on the couch while a movie of your choosing played on the TV. You paid no attention to the screen though, all your attention was on your phone. Grimmjow had been texting you the entire night, his flirting nature bleeding through the little text boxes. After a few giggles from your end of the couch, Ichigo grew curious, he turned his attention away from the TV and gave it all to you. He nudged your shoulder with his foot and raised an eyebrow, “who are you texting?”
You set your phone down on the couch, your bright screen still shining so he could quickly glance at the contact before looking into your eyes. “Just a guy from my ethics class.”
He sat up a bit and moved just a little closer to you, properly reading the contact before looking at you. “Grimmjow? What does he want from you? Is he fucking up in class?”
You giggled and shook your head, “nope, he’s asking if I’m free tomorrow to go out with him. He’s been asking me out for about a month now and I might just say yes. He is pretty cute.”
His eyes widened at your words, Grimmjow? Asking you on a date? You might say yes? His blood boiled and his jaw tensed, there was no fucking way he’d let someone as innocent and precious as you go into the den of a beast like Grimmjow. No fucking way, not even over his dead body. But it finally hit him, it all started to make sense. There were more taunts coming from Grimmjow whenever Ichigo saw him but he always just pushed them aside, just attributing it to Grimmjow being an asshole. There was still something that Grimmjow had said that still rings in his mind, even now, it was something that no matter how hard he tried to push it away, it kept coming back.
It was about a week ago and they saw each other in passing while on campus. Grimmjow passed Ichigo and muttered the words that are in the back of his mind. “Keep an eye on your precious little stepsister Kurosaki, don’t want her losing that innocence.” At the moment he just brushed it aside but the more he let it ruminate, the more it made his blood boil. Ichigo has never been the possessive type with anyone he was attracted to but with you he felt this need to make you his and keep it that way. Now that he knows that Grimmjow wanted you too, this need grew more and more and he had to satiate it. He wouldn’t know what else it could grow to and he needed to act on it now.
“Tell him no.”
You furrowed your eyebrows and turned to face him better, the shirt you stole from him rode up your thighs slightly and gave him a little peek of your cute shorts. “Why should I do that? Is there something wrong with him?”
He scoffed a little at your response, what wasn’t wrong with the brute? “I just don’t think someone like him is good for you, I’ve known him for a while and I know how he is. You deserve someone that’s better than him, someone who will cherish you and treat you like a princess, someone who is gentle and someone who cares about you more than anyone and anything else.”
His voice softened a bit and he reached over to grab your hands, taking them in his. Your heart pounded in your chest at the warm touch, you would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t have a little thing for your stepbrother, he’s perfect. He’s everything you could ever want in a man, kind, strong, caring, intelligent, and sexy. There have been nights in the confines in your room where you whimpered out for him as your fingers dipped in and out of your soaking wet pussy. There were some nights where those whimpers grew louder and you should’ve been concerned about covering your mouth but there was that little sliver of hope that he would hear you and finally indulge you in your dark desires.
“W-Who would that person be? Who would treat me like that?” Your heart started pounding faster and harder and you could hear your heartbeat in your ears. He leaned closer and closer until his breath hit your lips.
“Me.” With that he closed the distance, pressing his lips against yours in a deep kiss. His hands moved around you and pulled you onto his lap as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth to lick over yours. You whimpered against his lips and your hands gripped his shirt tightly. His hands moved from your back to the curve of your ass, gripping the flesh before landing a spank on it. He groaned against your lips and broke the kiss slightly to let you both catch your breath, “my room or yours?”
“I-Ichigo—”
“Don’t call me that” he groaned and stood up, heading to his room and holding you with ease. He leaned in and started kissing your neck, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin as he walked there, breathless moans and whimpers left your lips as you held onto him tighter. “You’re gonna call me daddy now okay? Not Ichigo, just daddy.” Your eyes widened slightly and you felt your cunt clench around nothing,
The distance from the living room to his room seemed like nothing and before you knew it the soft fabric of his comforter was against your back. He held himself over you as he leaned down and kissed you again, one of his hands moving up to caress the soft skin of your leg as it drifted up to touch you over your shorts. The fabric was extremely thin and he could feel every twitch of your pussy as his fingers traced over your folds. His slender fingers moved down to where your entrance was and he circled his fingers around the growing wet spot. He broke the kiss and started kissing down your jaw and neck, sucking the skin and biting down before licking over the indentations of his teeth.
“Only I get to see you like this okay? No one else, especially not that blue haired freak Grimmjow, got it?” He pulled your shorts and panties down, barely moving them down your legs before he plunged his fingers inside you, you keened and moaned his name while his fingers pumped quickly inside you. It was like he knew everything you liked, like he was there with you every single time you pleasured yourself. Little did you know that each time you dove into your little world of pleasure, he would crack your door open and peek in to watch you. He heard every single whimper and cry for him and he wanted to go inside and fuck you, hear every cry and whimper for himself as his cock plunged in and out of your tight pussy. All he could do was stand at the doorway and pump his cock at the same pace you pumped your fingers in yourself, matching your movements until you both experienced that sweet release. Your poor little fingers could never compare to his cock and now he could finally give you what you so desperately desired, he could finally put out the flames of desire that was eating you both up.
His fingers pumped in and out of you at a quick pace and his thumb was pressed against your clit, rubbing quick circles. You were in complete bliss, your mind filling with him and the pleasure he was giving you. He was going to burn the association with him and pleasure into your head and he was going to do whatever it took to make sure you would never forget that, even if he had to fuck you for days straight, he would do it. But there was still something missing, he leaned down to your ear and groaned.
“I asked you a question earlier, didn't I? It’s very rude to not respond to a question that daddy asks you.”
Your mind wandered in circles to try to backtrack what he asked you in the first place. The look of pure pleasure on your face morphed into a look mixed with pleasure and slight confusion, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll remind you but next time you need to remember what daddy asks you, he’s not going to be so kind next time and repeat himself. I asked, if you understood that only I get to see you like this. No one else gets to see you like this, not any guy that tries to swoon you and definitely not that fucker Grimmjow. Do you understand, angel?”
His fingers pressed right against your g spot, pushing against the spongy spot that made your toes curl and made you cry out for him. “Cmon, I expect an answer. If I don’t get one then maybe I should just stop.”
Your eyes widened at the idea of him stopping and you fumbled over your thoughts, trying to find the most coherent one to answer him. He couldn’t stop, you couldn’t have him stop, not when you were right on the edge. “I-I understand daddy, I’m only yours and I only want you to see me like this. Please don’t stop daddy, I wanna cum.” You felt tears brim your eyes and with the combination of the sight of your desperate expression, your pitiful plea and the way your cunt clenched around his fingers, he pumped his fingers faster and soon you were crumbling underneath him. “Daddy! I’m cumming, thank you thank you!” Your thighs shook as the waves of your orgasm coursed through you and his fingers didn’t stop until you stopped clenching around them. He slowly pulled his fingers out and gazed at the translucent white that coated them, such a beautiful sight and all for him.
He brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, he wanted to taste you properly but he needed to feel you around his cock. He needed to feel you clench around him the same way you clenched around his fingers. He quickly moved to strip himself of his shirt and pulled his shorts and boxers down to expose his cock. A small tuft of neatly trimmed orange hair leading down to his throbbing cock. He pulled your shorts and panties down further until they were hanging off one of your ankles and he positioned himself. He brought your legs over his shoulders and he slammed his cock inside you. Your back arched beautifully and your legs started shaking again as your cunt milked him for cum that wasn’t there…yet.
“So fucking beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” His hips slammed into yours as he moved based on pure instinct. The thoughtful and methodological Ichigo wasn’t in front of you anymore, this Ichigo was different. Like a feral beast out in the wild, he moved on pure instinct and desire. Seems like it was eating at him more than he thought and your cries and moans of “daddy” and “more” drove him further into this feral and deprived state. You needed to see it more, you needed more of it.
You looked so beautiful underneath him and it looked even better than you were still wearing his shirt, now crumpled and wrinkled from how hard he groped at your chest but it made no difference. You could only have the scraps of his clothes covering you but that still wouldn’t matter, as long as it was something of his then he would still have the same reaction. His thrusts grew heavier and harder as his cock twitched inside you, he knew from the moment he pushed his fingers inside you that once he got to fuck you he wouldn’t last long. “Cum with me angel, make a mess of my cock and I’ll make a mess of this pretty cunt. Make you mine entirely.” He brought his fingers back to your clit and rubbed it quickly, sending you headfirst into another orgasm and at the first clench of his cock you sent him into his orgasm. He dropped his head down and bit down on your neck harder than before, the action alone made you clench around him tighter and made your orgasm even more powerful.
There would probably be a complaint from the neighbors in the morning but that meant nothing, he finally had you and he could have a million noise complaints posted on the door. That just meant he was doing his job right. He licked over the bite and kissed up your neck to your lips, kissing you softly before pulling back. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”
You shook your head and looked at him with half lidded eyes. “‘M okay daddy, just feel really good and really warm.” He chuckled and pecked your lips before pulling out, he gently placed your legs down on the bed and stood. “I’ll get you some water and a rag to clean you off, don’t move.” You nodded and closed your eyes. Just as he was about to leave the room you weakly lifted your head, “I love you daddy.”
“I love you more, angel.” He left and quickly gathered everything, on his way back to the room your phone went off on the couch. He walked over and saw it was a message from Grimmjow that read, “come on, ditch Ichigo and spend the weekend with me. I can promise we’ll have more fun than you could ever have with him.” He scoffed at the message and an idea perked in his mind. He walked back into the room and you were sound asleep, your panties and shorts hanging on a limb off your left ankle and his cum leaking out of your swollen cunt. What a perfect sight. He set the water and the rag on his nightstand and opened up your phone, your password was easy to figure out and even if it wasn’t you would’ve told him if you asked. He moved to the foot of the bed and opened up your camera, he angled the phone to get the perfect view of you and your leaking cunt and once he got it he snapped the picture.
He gazed at it for a few moments, like an artist gazing at their finished painting. “Fuck, how are you so beautiful?” He muttered to himself and sent the picture to himself for his own safe keeping then sent the picture to Grimmjow. It only took a few seconds for a barrage of replies to fill the screen and all he could do was chuckle. He left the room and answered the incoming call. He moved the phone away while Grimmjow yelled on the other line and once he found the perfect opportunity to speak up he brought the phone back to his ear. “She’ll have to decline your little proposition from earlier, Jaegerjaquez, we’re going to have a very busy weekend. Good luck finding someone else though, I heard there’s some girls on campus that’ll love to have the chance to spend a night with you. Just let the photo I sent you serve as a reminder that Y/N is mine. Stay away from her but if anything I could just fuck her in front of you so you could get an up close and personal reminder. See ya around.”
He hung up the call and let out a small sigh, maybe that should be the next step. It was hard to keep Grimmjow at bay, he was a persistent guy but so was Ichigo. Well, that could be a plan for next time. Now, he had his sweet little stepsister to care for, everything that you two did was taboo but he just took his job as a big brother seriously. As a big brother it was his job to protect you from danger and creeps, if that meant he had to fuck you to sleep to do so then so be it.
taglist: @xiao-tings @rubikenss @blueparadis @dangerouspursepeachbear @bubblepopneurotic-blog @brivetaroundtown @erenluvsrini @senjuasuna @caramelcandescence @dmwednesday @saneminx @akiella @celi-xxmoon @dxgrayson @tokyometronetwork
#semisgroupie kinktober#kinktober 2022#ichigo smut#ichigo kurosaki smut#bleach smut#tw:stepcest#tw:daddy kink#tw:unprotected sex#tw:multiple orgasms#tw:creampie#tw:noncon element#tw:possessiveness#we’re gonna ignore that this is late
659 notes
·
View notes
Text
— hanta sero loves reverse cowgirl.
+ warning(s): smut, mdni 18+, reverse cowgirl position, mentions of rope/tying up, daddy!kink, pet name mamas is used. reader has female anatomy!!
in fact, he loves any position where he can take you from behind. something about the way you use him how you want, even if he binds your wrists behind you’re back— you’re still gonna want it, still gonna circle your hips and throw your gorgeous ass back on his cock, just like that.
something about the way the curve of your ass sticks to his skin, clinging to his toned thighs by strings of your arousal— clear and strong and god. hanta gets the perfect view of how wet you are for him, how your swollen pussy lips glisten with slick as you use his cock, make him hit it just right from behind just like that.
he doesn’t need to see your face to know that you’re crying— he can hear it in the way your voice trembles and your hips stutter, struggling to lift off of his lap. how there’s a slow and steady clap of your meaty ass against his skin, your quivering cunt all on display for him. sero knows it’s too much for you, he can see it in the way she clenched around the base of his shaft until it’s all milky and soaked in your juices.
“c’mon baby, throw it back. c’mon. you know what to do. you know how daddy likes it. that’s it mamas.”
he’ll all but moan behind you, thrusting up every once and a while so sero can hit that sweet spot that drives you wild, leaning up to press kisses between your shoulder blades before he grabs at your plush ass to move you up and down on him the way he likes.
“ooh yeah. you gonna cum? work for it baby, you know what to do.” hanta can’t help but goad you— lying on his back, slapping a hand down against your ass with his dick twitching against your slick walls. he’s in fuckin’ heaven, and if he died here right here and now he wouldn’t give a single fuck. buried in your sweet cunt, watching you throw your head back with high pitched mewls and moans. “that’s it…use your cock baby, doin’ fuckin’ good for daddy. yeah…yeah.”
and if hanta gets impatient? watching you struggle to fuck yourself down on a cock you’ve taken hundreds of times in order to make yourself cum— well if he gets impatient, he’ll just have to sit up, force your face into the sheets and pound that pretty pussy till you squirt, till your ass is sore and thick loads of his seed are drooling out from your tiny hole.
#tteokdoroki#sero x reader#sero x you#sero smut#sero thirst#sero drabbles#hanta sero smut#hanta sero x reader#sero hanta smut#sero hanta x you#bnha smut#bnha thirsts#tw:daddy kink#🗑. aali’s chatroom
950 notes
·
View notes
Text
Day 5 | Daddy kink - Pierro
Kinktober masterlist
Gender neutral reader (genitals not specified)
18+, dirty talk, daddy kink, non-specified hole fucking
It was only a joke when you called him daddy. Little did you know, there was a tent in his pants that he did his best to hide the rest of the day. It took all of his will power to prevent himself from bending you over and taking you right there.
So it was a complete surprise to you when he brought it up the next time you were naked in his bed. He hovers over you. Growls into your ear asking if you remember or noticed how hard he got. He runs his fingers along your body. Teasing every sensitive part.
He asks you if you want "daddy" to fuck you. His breath on your ear and a pleasurable shiver goes up your spine.
You nod. Letting out a small whimper, "daddy, please."
He did his best to take it slow, to tease you. But he couldn't hold back for long. He lines up with your needy hole and roughly thrusts in. You gasp and moan as your shoved up and down on the mattress.
He angled himself, trying to hit that spot that made you see stars and repeat it over and over again. He moved his large hand down and ran his thumb where you were sensitive. Because he quickly observed, the better he made you feel, the more you would whine "daddy" for him.
Through half lidded eyes you watch him. On top of you with arms on either side of you, caging you in. Bare chest and changing expression. You bite your lip and let words and moans tumble out of your mouth. Calling him daddy over and over again because the more you did it, the nicer you felt.
By the time he's done with you, you'll be a gasping, babbling mess.
150 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sugar Daddy!Chuuya
Tags: 18+ MDNI, talks of alcohol and alcohol consumption, mentions of sugar daddy relationship, mention of previous age gap relationships, use of the term daddy, nicknames (baby), some small general smut
WC: 728
AN: I ignored all my other pieces to finish this considering the events of chapter 101, so here’s everyone’s happiness for the week for ya’ll manga readers :’)
Unsuspecting Chuuya whose eyes were scanning the wine bottle in his hands. Would this be his drink of choice for the weekend? “Y’know if you’re looking at that, you should really try this.” An unfamiliar voice chimed up from behind him, an arm extending out with a different bottle of wine. Raising his eyebrow in curiosity he grabbed the bottle with his free hand, inspecting it before putting the bottle he originally had back on the rack. “You must really know your stuff, hm?” He turned to look at the mysterious person who initiated contact with him and was met with your mischievous smirk.
You did this often, hide in plain sight and carefully go people watching. You learned a lot this way, how to tick people off, how to interact with them, picking up on likes and dislikes and using it to your advantage. You used this trait of yours in particular to appeal to the men around you, more specifically the ones who had money. The lavish gifts these men gave you without a second thought never failed to surprise you, and in all honesty you reveled in it. The moment Chuuya walked in you could tell he had money, the way he dressed, the way he held himself, a certain sense of confidence dripping off of him that screamed to you like a siren. And you were grateful, grateful to have found someone new, someone who was, thank god, your age.
It was in that moment in the store that you met face to face where you both fell in love. No strings attached was always a lie, because when you were with Chuuya, you felt free, free like that constant funny fuzzy feeling in your stomach when you propelled from a steep incline in a car or a roller coaster. Free like floating aimlessly in the ocean, rays of sunlight softly warming your cheeks as the cold water touched your arms.
Chuuya lived both lavishly and modestly. While he partook in fine dining paired with wine, and occasionally was interested in high fashion, he also wasn't one to turn down a night spent on the couch, watching television until he fell asleep. He would always make you taste whatever new wine he would buy with him, mindfully pouring a glass for you and watching as you would take your first sip before he did. Those overly sweet and sour kisses that followed afterwards as the wine lingered on both your lips and tongues.
He was one to always make sure that his appreciation for fashion influenced you in some way. He always made sure to buy you whatever you wanted, making sure your wardrobe was never close to empty. "Don't you worry, daddy will buy you whatever you want." He would smirk while swiping his card before grabbing the shopping bag, holding it for you if it was too heavy.
He was cliche, always asking you to show off what you got after a long day out shopping, making sure to take in and appreciate every outfit you modeled for him. A “C’mhere, lemme get a closer look at you.” would fall from his lips before gesturing at you, grabbing you and pulling you into his lap once you were within reach of him. Not a second wasted before he was peppering kisses on your neck, your jaw, your lips. “Chuuya wait, don’t wanna ruin the clothes already.” You would pout at his actions of harshly tugging at the new fabric, voice whiny and breathless. “Don’t worry baby, can just buy you a new one later.” He replied matter of factly which then followed a quick undressing session, hastily pulling off your clothes before tossing them to the floor. He was always eager for this part, hands roaming lovingly up and down your body before positioning you comfortably in his lap. Making you ride him at an uncomfortably slow pace until you were worked up and begging for more. Of course he gives you what you want, he always gives his baby what they want. Flipping you over so he’s now on top of you, thrusting into you at a slightly more vigorous pace. He loves hearing you whine underneath him, begging him for more with pleading eyes. He’ll always make sure to give you just whatever you want, anything to make you happy.
#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungo stray dogs imagines#bungo stray dogs smut#chuuya nakahara smut#chuuya nakahara#chuuya nakahara imagine#chuuya nakahara x reader#bsd smut#bsd imagines#bsd imagine#bungo stray dogs imagine#bsd x reader#tw:alcohol#tw:daddy kink#tw:age gap
265 notes
·
View notes
Text
⇀ tags + warnings!
𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬
#𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ⋆ me chattering on to myself ehehe
#𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 ⋆ any ask i answer!
#𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐲.𝐛𝐛 ⋆ anon asks!
#𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 ⋆ any post that updates you on what i’ve been doing!
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬
common triggering topics you may come across on my blog include (but are not limited to):
—𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬
dubcon/noncon ⋆ #tw:dubcon, tw:noncon
somnophilia ⋆ #tw:somnophilia
dacryphilia ⋆ #tw:dacryphilia
degradation/dumbification ⋆ #tw:degradation, #tw:dumbification
daddy kink (sometimes with a ddlg type dynamic (aka a condescending caregiver type vibe) ⋆ #tw:daddy kink
spanking ⋆ #tw:spanking
marking (bruises, hickeys, scratches, bites) ⋆ #tw:marking
size kink/size difference ⋆ #tw:size kink
rough sex ⋆ #tw:rough sex
minimal prep ⋆ #tw:minimal prep
—𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥
murder ⋆ #tw:murder
yandere ⋆ #tw:yandere
toxic relationships (manipulation, possessiveness, jealousy, patronization/condescension, extreme control, etc) ⋆ #tw:toxic relationship
age gaps between consenting adults ⋆ #tw:age gap
pseudocest (aka incest between adopted siblings, big brother x little sister ONLY) ⋆ #tw:pseudocest
organized crime ⋆ #tw:organized crime
drugs/drug addiction ⋆ #tw:drugs
cheating ⋆ #tw:cheating
blood ⋆ #tw:blood
if any of the topics mentioned above make you uncomfortable or upset, please filter the appropriate tags or block me! your safety and enjoyment should be of utmost concern, and it is your responsibility to curate your online space and online experience accordingly. stay safe <3
with that being said, here is a list of 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞:
anal | pegging | ass eating
femdom | mommy kink | dom reader
pedophilia | underage
beastiality
pet play | hybrids
age play
lactation
water sports | scat | vomit
eating disorders
vore
full blood incest | any incest that isn’t big bro x lil sis (dad x daughter, uncle x niece, etc)
0 notes
Text
— Pussy Talk
Starring; Various Haikyuu Characters.
Warnings; 18+ minors dni + afab reader + dom/sub dynamics + petplay + light degradation (teasing name calling) + daddy kink + roleplay + foot riding + oral (reader receiving) + use of nicknames; bunny, puppy, kitty.
Wordcount; 0.5k
Note; An edited repost from my old blog, i didn’t realize i wrote two very similar sets of headcanons and decided to switch the princess sections of this and replace them with the names i used in my other set of headcanons >:) Both are up on my ao3 under the same name. Enjoy <3
Networks: @planetonet
The names they call your pussy —
꒰ Puppy parts ꒱
He’s got you in a collar, a leash attached to it, tightly curled in the palm of his hand. The word drips off his lips like the sweetest ichor as he coos at you, laughing at how desperate his lil’ puppy is. It’s a wonderful sight, he delights in, because only he can get you so worked up.
“Whining isn’t going to get you anywhere sweetheart so try and relax and let me get a good look at your sweet puppy parts.”
⊱ Iwaizumi Haijime, Sawamura Daichi, Hinata Shōyō, Meian Shūgo, and Matsukawa Issei.
꒰ Bunny cunt ꒱
He’s got your legs tossed over his lap, a mirror propped up on the foot end of the bed so you get a good look of the mess he’s about to make of you. His fingers are pressed against your soiled panties, preening at your cute drooling cunt. You were always so receptive of his touches, he had barely even played with you and yet, you were so wet.
“Who knew my baby was such a slut, heh, ruining the shorts I let you borrow when I’ve hardly even touched you. Better clean these up while I play with your pretty bunny cunt.”
⊱ Oikawa Tōru, Konoha Akinori, Bokuto Kōtarō, Suna Rintarō, Aran Ojiro, and Yaku Morisuke.
꒰ Kitty Cunt ꒱
The tip of his boot presses against your throbbing pussy, a haughty laugh escaping him as you squirm. You really should have known better than to bother him while they were working, now you’ll have to make do with his shoe. But that’s just what you wanted, anticipation coursing through your veins as he prattled on. The feigned role of a cruel master a lovely mirage as the two of you played.
“Oh does that feel good, my love? You like it when daddy presses his foot against your kitten cunt? ‘Course you would, filthy thing.”
⊱ Shinsuke Kita, Ukai Keishin, Semi Eita, Kyōtani Kentarō, Futakuchi Kenji, and Kiyoomi Sakusa.
꒰ Mine ꒱
He’s drunk on the taste of your cunt, moaning against your clit as he laps up your juices, muttering the word over and over again. He can’t help it, all he can think about is how much he loves your cunt, so enamoured with the way it looks split on his cock. He’d spend an eternity trapped within the four walls of his house if it meant he could live between your thighs, kissing and sucking on your sweet pussy.
“How lucky am I, god, this pretty little thing is mine, all mine. All wet for me too, but don’t worry, I’ll take care of my perfect pussy.”
⊱ Miya Osamu, Sugawara Kōshi, Kozume Kenma, Azumane Asahi, Moniwa Kaname, and Tsukishima Kei.
꒰ Angel Cunt ꒱
His head is tipped back, eyes pressed shut as he thrusts into you. The feel of your velvet walls pulsing around him heavenly, he thinks he’ll soon lose his mind because he’s grown addicted to you. Unabasedly moaning, the kiss he leaves on the corner of your mouth is sloppy but he’s to pussy drunk to care.
“God, baby this angel cunt ‘o yours is heavenly. Hah, almost can’t believe it. You feel so fuckin’ good.”
⊱ Miya Atsumu, Kuroo Tetsurō, Akaashi Keiji, Goshiki Tsutomu, Kageyama Tobio, and Yamaguchi Tadashi.
© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.
#haikyuu smut#hq smut#atsumu miya smut#sakusa kiyoomi smut#kenma kozume smut#daichi sawamura smut#kuroo tetsuro smut#kageyama tobio smut#hinata shoyo smut#tsukishima kei smut#hq x reader#haikyuu x reader#hq thirst#akaashi keiji smut#oikawa toru smut#bokuto koutaro smut#tw afab reader#tw:petplay#tw:degradation#tw:daddy kink
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
the ojiros
Aran Ojiro x Cis!Fem Reader x Kita Shinsuke
WARNINGS: Poly relationship, housewife talk, double penetration, daddy kink, sir kink, brat reader, light degradation, like three spanks, dumbification, wombfucking, mention of blood (not graphic), breeding, creampie, cum inflation, cum eating, snowballing, m/m kissing
3.9k words, literally the loosest definition of edited
“Oh, ho, it’s my big city girl,” Aran said as you walked into Shinsuke’s farmhouse.
“Be quiet,” you said, waving him off as you leaned down to peck his lips.
“It’s my sweet girl,” Shinsuke said, walking into the living room from the kitchen. He was drying his hands on a washcloth and had no doubt just come in from the fields.
“Hey, baby,” you greeted as Shinsuke wrapped his arms around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pecked his lips.
“Oh, so I get a ‘be quiet’ while Shin gets a ‘hey, baby’ and an embrace,” Aran said. “So yer racist?”
“Hush up, Aran,” Shinsuke said, throwing the wash cloth at him.
You climbed into Aran’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.
“Is that better?” You asked. Aran smiled widely and nodded.
“How was Tokyo?” Shinsuke asked, sitting next to Aran on the couch.
“Busy,” you said. “I’m glad to be home.”
“I’m glad yer home,” Shinsuke said. “Especially since this one has to leave in two weeks.” Shinsuke elbowed Aran lightly.
“For the Olympics,” Aran said. “S’hardly fair to hold it against me.”
“Ya know we’ll be rootin’ fer ya,” Shinsuke said, rubbing Aran’s shoulder.
“Yeah, we’ll be cheering for you the whole time,” you agreed.
“Thanks,” Aran said, nuzzling into your neck and pressing a kiss against your skin.
Shinsuke cleared his throat.
“Thank ya, too,” Aran said, leaning over and pecking Shinsuke’s lips.
“You better beat Argentina,” you said. “Oikawa will never let me live it down if he beats you.”
“I promise we’ll beat Argentina,” Aran said, smiling. “How could we not with all the talent we have on the team?”
“Good,” you said, kissing his cheek again. “Now, our show should be coming on any minute.”
“Don’t ya want dinner first? After being on the train all day?” Shinsuke asked.
“What are we having?” You asked.
“Tonkotsu ramen,” Shinsuke said.
“We can eat first,” you said. You stood up from Aran’s lap and stretched before wandering to the kitchen.
“Help me prepare the vegetables?” Aran asked, following after you. You nodded.
“Let me change out of my work clothes first,” you said, looking down at your pristine, white top.
You walked up the steps towards the bedroom and quickly changed into a shirt of Shinsuke and an old pair of Inarizaki sweats that the boys had long since outgrown.
You bounced back downstairs where Aran was chopping carrots and Shinsuke was pouring pork broth into a pot. You kissed their cheeks before grabbing a knife and chopping an onion carefully.
“Noodles, sweet girl?” Shinsuke asked, glancing at you.
You grabbed the noodles and handed them to Shinsuke, who pulled you into him and held you tightly.
“I really missed ya,” he mumbled into your hair. “I’m tired of ya havin’ to leave me every other week.”
“I know, baby,” you said, looking up at him. “I missed you, too.”
“Quit yer job,” Aran said, coming up behind you. He brushed your hair away from your neck and kissed your exposed shoulder. “Me an’ Shin make more than enough to support ya.”
“I’d get bored,” you said as Shinsuke and Aran kissed either side of your neck.
“Ya can get a job in town,” Shinsuke said. “Or ya can help me with the farm.”
“We can keep ya busy,” Aran said. “Ya can come with me when I travel fer games.”
“Tempting,” you said as they both licked and sucked at your neck. “Especially when I have two strong, good looking men asking.”
“Then do it,” Shinsuke said. “Say ya’ll quit yer job.”
“Ya don’t even like it,” Aran said. Shinsuke chose that moment to bite down on the spot he’d been teasing.
“Shin!” You gasped.
“Quit yer job and be our sweet, lil housewife,” Shinsuke said, licking over the tender bite mark.
“Come on, darlin’,” Aran said. His hands ran down your sides before one came to rest at your hip and the other wandered beneath your sweat pants. “No panties? Naughty girl.”
“The food,” you gasped out as Aran rubbed two fingers around your clit. Shinsuke reluctantly pulled away from you and turned the stove off before attaching himself to you.
“Say ya will quit yer job,” Shinsuke said, tugging your shirt up. You lifted your arms, allowing him to remove your shirt and throw it to an unknown corner of the kitchen. Aran pinched your sensitive clit, making you gasp.
“Fine!” You exclaimed. “I’ll quit my job!”
“That’s my sweet girl,” Shinsuke said. He tilted your chin up and kissed you deeply. You moaned into his mouth as Aran rubbed your clit harder.
“Good girl,” Aran mumbled into your neck.
“Aran,” you moaned, leaning your head back on his shoulder. Your legs shook and your knees threatened to buckle. Shinsuke held you upright as Aran continued his teasing.
“Gonna cum just from his fingers, sweet girl?” Shinsuke asked. You nodded weakly.
“Just, just a little more,” you breathed. Aran moved his fingers faster.
“Cum on his fingers like a good girl,” Shinsuke said. “Come on, I know ya can do it, be a good girl fer us.”
“Fuck, fuck!” You exclaimed. Your eyes rolled back as your stomach tightened and the coil finally snapped. Your juices gushed out, running down your thighs.
“Let’s get her t’ bed,” Aran said, pulling his hand away from your cunt.
“Come on, sweet girl,” Shinsuke said, sweeping you up in his arms. He carefully carried you upstairs to the bedroom. He laid you on the king sized bed. He and Aran looked down at you, eyes tracing your body.
“Gonna take us both, tonight?” Aran asked. You nodded.
“I want you both in me,” you said. “Want you to stretch my cunt out.”
“Fuck,” Shinsuke hissed, palming his cock through his jeans. He pulled his shirt off and stripped out of his jeans, standing just in his boxers as Aran stripped down.
“Who’s on bottom?” Aran asked.
“I should go first,” Shinsuke said. “Let her get used to the stretch first.”
“Yeah, okay,” Aran said, pumping his cock, slowly. Aran was longer than Shinsuke by barely an inch but Shinsuke was thicker by far. You’d always struggled to take him when you’d first got with him.
Shinsuke crawled up on the bed, pulling your sweats off before laying next to you. He was leaned up against the headboard and patted his thigh.
“Come on, sweet girl, sit on Daddy’s cock,” Shinsuke said. You carefully straddled his hips, reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance.
“Take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, okay?” Aran said, crawling up behind you. You nodded and whimpered as the fat head of Shinsuke’s cock stretched out your hole.
“Daddy,” you whimpered. “Fuck, it’s so fat, stretching me out so good.”
“Take more of me, baby,” Shinsuke said, grabbing your hips. He forced you down, pushing more of his cock in your tight hole. Your eyes rolled back.
“Yer takin’ him so well, jus’ swallowin’ him up,” Aran said. You moaned as you sank down, taking Shinsuke’s cock completely.
“That’s my sweet girl,” Shinsuke said, letting his head fall back against the headboard. “Fuck, don’t-dont move yet. So tight around me, fuck.”
“Been too long,” you moaned. “Need your cock everyday.”
“Oh, sweet girl, I’ll give ya my cock whenever ya want it, now that yer gonna be our sweet, lil housewife,” Shinsuke said. “Gonna fill ya up every night until ya get too swollen with our babies.”
You moaned as Shinsuke adjusted, giving Aran a better angle to stretch you out.
“Start stretchin’ her out,” Shinsuke said. Aran ran a finger around your stretched out hole and then wiggled it in next to Shinsuke’s cock.
You hissed at the stretch.
“Maybe loosen her up a bit,” Aran said, pulling away.
You quietly moaned as Shinsuke guided your hips up.
“Bounce on my cock, sweet girl,” Shinsuke said.
“Don’t wanna,” you said. “Want Daddy to fuck me.”
“Don’t be a brat,” Aran said, landing a stinging slap to your ass.
“Daddy!” You yelped.
“Be nice, Aran,” Shinsuke said. “My baby wants Daddy to fuck her.”
Shinsuke easily flipped you over, pushing your knees against your chest. You moaned as he pressed into you slowly.
“Shin,” you moaned, clenching your fists in the blanket beneath you. He rolled his hips with experienced ease, the head of his fat cock pressing against your cervix.
“So tight, baby, how are ya supposed to take both of us in this tiny, little hole?” Shinsuke asked.
“I can do it,” you said, pouting. Shinsuke grabbed your protruding lip, forcing your mouth open and shoving three, thick fingers against your tongue.
“Sweet girls don’t pout,” he said as your tongue swirled around his fingers. “Aren’t ya my sweet girl?”
You nodded, breathing heavily as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.
“She’s a brat,” Aran said, slowly pumping his cock from where he kneeled beside Shinsuke.
“‘m not a brat,” you argued. “I’m daddy’s sweet girl.”
“That’s right,” Shinsuke said. He reached down, slowly rubbing your clit.
“Daddy,” you keened, arching your back and throwing your head back.
“Nuh-uh, look at Daddy,” Aran said, leaning forward and grabbing your hair. He forced your head up, and you watched as Shinsuke slowly thrusted in you.
“Wish ya could see how well yer cunt swallows my fat cock,” Shinsuke said. You whined.
“Let me grab the camera,” Aran said, reaching over to a bedside table and grabbing his cell phone. Shinsuke tore his fingers from your swollen clit, grabbing the phone and angling it towards your cunt.
You moaned as he forced his cock deeper, stretching your walls until it burned.
“Look at that,” Shinsuke said, turning the phone and showing you the video of his girthy cock splitting your tiny cunt open.
“Want more,” you said, unable to tear your eyes from the video. Already a ring of your creamy juices had formed around the base of his cock and you desperately wanted to see how your poor, little cunt would look stretched around two, big cocks.
“Ya ready t’ take both of us?” Aran asked.
You nodded. “Wanna be so full.”
“Come ‘ere, baby,” Shinsuke said, flipping the two of you back over. You moaned as you sank back down on his cock.
Aran crawled between Shinsuke’s legs. He pressed his large hand on the small of your back, forcing it to arch. He placed a small kiss at the base of your neck before slowly pushing a finger in next to Shinsuke’s cock.
“Sir,” you moaned, arching your back more as Aran curled his finger against your walls.
“So fuckin’ loose,” Aran sneered. “Surprised Shin doesn’t just slip out of this slutty, little hole.”
“G’head and add another finger,” Shinsuke said.
Aran slipped in another finger with little resistance. You moaned softly as he twisted his fingers. You breathed deeply, relaxing against Shinsuke’s chest.
“More,” you breathed as you wrapped your arms around Shinsuke. “Sir, I want more, please.”
“Already? What a whore, one cock just isn’t enough for this hole,” Aran said, adding a third finger slowly.
“Not a whore,” you mumbled.
Aran laughed. “Oh? Yer beggin’ fer more and Shin’s already balls deep in yer cunt. What are ya then? Daddy’s sweet girl?”
“I am Daddy’s sweet girl,” you insisted.
“But yer my whore,” Aran said, smacking your ass.
“Think she’s ready?” Shinsuke asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Aran said, spreading his fingers out and stretching you even more. You moaned as Aran pulled his fingers out and Shinsuke slowly pulled his cock out.
You opened your mouth to whine when you felt two blunt heads against your stretched hole. You shuttered as they slowly pushed in. Goosebumps spread along your arms and your mouth fell open with a moan.
“Such a sweet sound,” Shinsuke cooed. You moaned again as his rough hands caressed your sides. “Takin’ us so well, sweet girl.”
“Yer slutty hole is practically suckin’ us in,” Aran said.
“Daddy, Sir, I feel so full,” you said. Your head fell against Shinsuke’s shoulder.
“Aw, baby, we’re not even halfway in,” Shinsuke said. You whimpered as they pushed in a few inches deeper.
“Can’t,” you whined. “Can’t take anymore.”
“I thought ya wanted to take us both,” Aran said, tangling his fingers in your hair. He pulled your head back. “Yer my lil whore, ya can take it.”
“Hurts,” you said, pouting.
“No pouting,” Shinsuke said. Aran slapped your ass and they slipped deeper in you.
“Daddy!” You exclaimed as they bottomed out.
“Fuck, yer so tight,” Shinsuke groaned, leaning his head back on the headboard.
“Fuckin’ chokin’ my cock,” Aran said with a grunt.
“Don’t-Don’t move,” you breathed. “Please.”
Shinsuke pulled you into a sloppy kiss, his tongue sliding against your own and a mix of both of your spit running down your chins.
“Come here,” Aran said, pulling you away from Shinsuke.
You whined until Aran tilted your head and kissed you roughly, biting your bottom lip and tongue fighting for dominance against yours.
“I gotta move,” Shinsuke said, groaning as he wiggled his hips.
“No, Daddy, no,” you whined. “Not yet.”
“‘m sorry, sweet girl,” Shinsuke said, grabbing your hips. He slowly dragged his cock against your fluttering walls.
“Oh!” You moaned. Your head fell back against Aran’s shoulder. “More, more!”
Once Shinsuke was once again deep inside you, Aran pulled out.
“Her fuckin’ cunt almost won’t let me pull out,” Aran groaned. His eyes rolled back as he and Shinsuke rutted into you at the same time. “Shin, fuck, I can’t take it.”
“Let’s just set a pace,” Shinsuke said, breathing heavily as he dug his calloused fingers into your skin. Soon, the boys fell into a steady if not a little fast, pace. Aran moved a beat or two behind Shinsuke, meaning Shinsuke’s head hit against your cervix and a second later Aran’s head was pressing against it. You never had a second of emptiness as the boys barely pulled out before thrusting back into your wet heat.
“So fuckin’ addictin’,” Shinsuke said, burying his cock in you to the hilt. “This pussy is what I imagine cocaine feels like.”
“Nah, this pussy is heaven,” Aran said, bullying his cock against your cervix.
You couldn’t speak as they abused your cunt. All you could think about was the delicious stretch and the fucking addicting way their cocks dragged against your walls.
“What’s the matter, baby? Can’t speak?” Shinsuke asked, grabbing your chin as drool spilled over your bottom lip.
“Look at her, not a thought in her empty head,” Aran said, rapping his knuckle against your skull. You moaned.
“We fucked her stupid,” Shinsuke said, smiling at you. “Our dumb, lil baby.”
“Da—“ your word trailed off into a moan as Aran reached around and pressed two fingers against your neglected clit. Shinsuke laughed at your dazed face and hazy eyes.
“Dumb lil slut,” Aran grunted, forcing his cock deeper.
“She’s our lil dummy,” Shinsuke said. He lightly slapped your cheek. “Come on, baby, wake up.”
“Harder,” you mumbled, only slightly coming to.
“Ya heard her,” Aran said. He thrusted faster, drilling his hips against your ass. Shinsuke wasted no time, holding your hips tightly as he matched Aran’s pace. They moved oppositely, one pulling out as the other pushed in. You lost track of who was who as you collapsed against Shinsuke, moaning and whimpering as their cock heads pounded against your cervix, threatening to break into your womb. While you and Aran had tried wombfucking a handful of times, you’d never experienced it when it was all three of you.
“Gonna break,” you moaned weakly. Aran bit his bottom lip, thrusting harder and deeper.
“Gonna fuck past yer cervix,” he grunted. “Yeah? Ya want me t’ break ya?”
“Please, Sir, please, please, please,” you begged, struggling to stay upright. You pushed your hands against Shinsuke’s chest, digging your perfectly painted fingernails into his tanned skin.
“Oh, fuck,” Shinsuke groaned as your nails dragged down his pecs. A drop or two of blood beaded up from the scratches. “Fuck, yer such a good girl.”
“Daddy, break me,” you moaned. “Want you to break me.”
“What does she mean?” Shinsuke asked.
“She wants you to fuck through her cervix,” Aran said. He grunted as his cock finally broke through.
“Aran!” You screamed. Your eyes rolled back and your vision went black as you creamed around their cocks.
“Oh, fuck,” Shinsuke swore. “That’s my girl, milk our cocks. Fuck, my sweet girl.”
“Hah, haa,” you moaned, still cumming. Your arms and legs shook as Aran pulled out and Shinsuke forced his way past your cervix. “Daddy, fuck, you’re so deep!”
“In yer womb, isn’t that right, sweet girl?” Shinsuke asked, pushing down on where his cock forced your stomach to bulge out.
Aran still thrusted in and out of you as Shinsuke stayed buried in your womb.
“Your cock feels so good against mine,” Shinsuke moaned. Aran nodded and thrusted faster.
“Fuck, wanna cum,” Aran said, moving his fingers on your clit faster. “Wanna cum deep inside ya, knock ya up with our babies.”
“Please, Sir,” you begged. Shinsuke finally moved, just in time for Aran to bury himself balls deep in you, head of his cock past your cervix as he filled your womb with his hot cum.
Shinsuke groaned as he felt Aran’s cock pumping cum out against his own cock. You moaned high pitched as Aran’s cock spurted more and more cum in you.
“Gonna cum,” Shinsuke said, thrusting shallowly. Aran finished with a gasp and slowly pulled out, allowing Shinsuke to force himself deeper.
“Fill me up, Daddy,” you breathed. “Wanna be swollen with your cum.”
“Sweet girl, I’m gonna give it to ya,” Shinsuke said. You whimpered as he forced the fat head of his cock past your cervix before the first rope of cum spurted out, joining Aran’s cum.
“Oh, oh,” you moaned, letting your forehead head fall against Shinsuke’s. He was looking down at where his skin melded with yours, hands still pushing against where your stomach was distended from his fat cock.
“Gonna look pregnant when I’m finished,” Shinsuke muttered, cum still pouring from his cock, filling your womb up. “Fuck.” His cock twitched weakly, forcing one last rope of cum out.
He wrapped his arms around you, holding you on his cock as it softened inside your walls.
“Gotta keep it in ya, make sure it’ll take,” Shinsuke whispered as he gazed into your eyes.
You whimpered as he finally pulled you off of his soft cock, laying you in between him and Aran. Aran shoved a pillow under your hips, angling them upwards to stop their cum from leaking out.
“‘m so full,” you said, rubbing your lower stomach. The cum inside you made you look and feel bloated.
“It’s like a lil sneak peak of how ya’ll look when yer carryin’ our babies,” Aran said. Shinsuke stayed silent, but stared at your swollen stomach with wide, glassy eyes.
The three of you laid silently for a while before Shinsuke finally rolled out of bed and walked into the attached bathroom.
“Let me clean ya up,” Shinsuke said, coming back with a warm, wet cloth. He spread your legs, crawling between them. He removed the pillow and pressed down on your lower stomach, forcing all of their cum out of you.
You sighed as you felt their cum pour out of your cunt.
“Fuck, what a sight,” Shinsuke said, watching as their cum dropped out of your abused hole and down your slit. Aran silently handed him the phone and Shinsuke started filming as he carefully scooped the cum up with his fingers and forced it back inside you. You moaned.
“So fuckin’ full of us,” Shinsuke said, scissoring his fingers in and out of you. “No way yer not pregnant after that.”
Aran crawled down the bed, watching Shinsuke repeatedly force their cum out only to push it back in.
“Ya need to clean her up,” Aran said. You whimpered and nodded.
“Show me how,” Shinsuke said, moving to the side and letting Aran in his previous spot.
“A good way to start is like this,” Aran said. He spread your legs wider and leaned down, licking deep in your hole.
“Aran!” You exclaimed, hands shooting down to push his head away. Aran ignored you as Shinsuke grabbed your hands, forcing them away.
“Let Aran clean ya up, baby,” Shinsuke said. You cried out as Aran’s scruff rubbed against your inner thighs and his tongue scooped out the cum inside of you. He made loud, lewd slurping noises as he swallowed the mix of his and Shinsuke’s cum. His nose nudged your clit and your legs were already shaking.
“Want a taste, pretty baby?” Aran asked, looking up at you. You nodded. Aran leaned back down, pressing on your lower stomach, forcing cum into his mouth. He leaned over you, grabbing your cheeks and forcing your mouth open before letting the silvery white cum drip out of his mouth and into yours.
You moaned at the taste of both of them. Swallowing the cum down, you whined.
“More, I want more,” you said. Aran crawled back down, taking more cum in his mouth. As he leaned up, Shinsuke grabbed his chin and pulled him into a messy kiss. Shinsuke groaned into the kiss, and you could see his tongue as he scooped the cum from Aran’s mouth into his own.
“I think it’s nice to share,” Shinsuke said, breathlessly as he pulled away.
Your pupils were blown from watching your boys. Each of them had a mix of cum and spit covering their lips and chin. You leaned up, first pulling Shinsuke into a messy kiss, licking the cum from his lips and sucking on his tongue before pulling Aran into an equally messy kiss.
“We better clean ya up for real before we end up makin’ a bigger mess,” Aran said, leaning his forehead against yours. He pecked your lips before taking the now cold washcloth from Shinsuke and wiping your cunt and thighs down.
Aran got up, going into the bathroom before returning with a clean washcloth and wiping his and Shinsuke’s faces clean.
“Come here,” Aran said, holding his arms open as he laid back on the bed. You and Shinsuke both cuddled up to him on either side, resting your hands on Aran’s chest.
“I love you two,” you said, burying your head in Aran’s neck. You pressed a small kiss to his skin.
“I love ya both” Aran said, kissing your forehead. He turned to his other side, pressing a kiss to Shinsuke’s forehead.
“I love ya two,” Shinsuke said, pressing a kiss on the other side of Aran’s neck.
“Three soon,” you said. Shinsuke and Aran both smiled widely.
“Three soon,” Shinsuke echoed, reaching over and rubbing your stomach.
“Maybe more,” Aran said, eyeing your stomach. You smiled.
“That’s alright with me,” you said.
“More hands to work the farm,” Shinsuke said.
“I think ya mean more members for our family volleyball team,” Aran said.
“No reason they can’t do both,” you said. “The Ojiro Farmers sounds like a Division 1 V league team to me.”
“Just gotta make y’all Ojiros first,” Aran said, hugging you two closer to him.
“Aran Ojiro, Shinsuke Ojiro, and Y/n Ojiro. The Ojiros,” Shinsuke said. “Sounds good to me.”
#aran thoughts#shinsuke thoughts#aran ojiro smut#kita shinsuke smut#haikyuu smut#aran ojiro x reader#aran ojiro x reader smut#kita shinsuke x reader#kita shinsuke x reader smut#aran ojiro x reader x kita shinsuke#aran ojiro x kita shinsuke#cai writes#tw:daddy kink#tw:degradation#tw:breeding#tw:housewife#tw:sir kink#tw:blood#tw:cum eating#tw:cum inflation#tw:creampie
675 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kinktober 02: Brat Taming
notes: first kinktober prompt! tony thought he’d already given peter enough lessons about how he was supposed to behave. what’s a man to do when his perfect boy disobeys and gets an attitude about it? also nobody is proofing these ( including me ) so sorry if things don’t make sense or there are typos. peter might not be bratty enough but it’s fine i did my best.
warning(s): daddy kink, spanking
AO3 Link
______________________________________________________________
Somewhere near his feet, his boy was whimpering. Staring up at him with wide, imploring eyes. Peter had such beautiful eyes. A deep brown that reminded him of a nice, dark oak, which so happened to be what his dining room table was made out of.
Unfortunately, the boy’s behavior today earned him a seat beneath the table instead of at it. Peter typically perched himself in the seat next to Tony and ate with dainty bites and a raised chin. He’d settled into his newfound life of lavish riches well, thanks to the older man. He’d found the boy on the streets, dirty with less than a dollar to his name. He’d clung to Tony’s jacket asking after food, and the man had smirked at him.
“I think I’ve got something better I could give you.”
He made Peter blow him in the backseat of his Rolls Royce. The partition was up, as it often was when these things occurred, but Tony was certain that Happy could still hear the loud suckling sounds the boy had made. He was like an overeager dog that first time, slobbering everywhere, not quite sure what to do without Tony’s hand to guide him.
Peter had gotten better, naturally. Tony had taught him. He’d introduced the boy to a plethora of new toys: gags and whips, swings and dildos the likes of which he’d never seen. Peter’s favorite toy had been a pink plug with a diamond stud on the end of it for quite some time. He’d cried when he grew out of it and no longer found the girth comfortable inside of him. Most of the time, he spent his days yearning after the older man’s cock, as he’d been trained to.
Perhaps trained wasn’t the correct term for it, Tony mused to himself. He took a swig of his scotch, already on his second pour though he’d yet to finish so much as a third of his roast duck. He heard Peter whimpering from where he sat, and felt the telltale rut of the boy’s hips against his leg.
Tony scowled. “No.” He hissed the word like he was talking to a disobedient dog.
But tonight, that was what Peter was. He had deliberately disobeyed Tony when he’d told him that he’d be home late, and under no circumstances was he allowed to touch himself. Peter had done it anyway, thinking he could cum beneath the pillowcase and hide it, or have the maids clean it before Tony got home. The boy had yet to realize that Tony had a nanny cam on him at all times, and that he could see when Peter was up to no good.
He played nice when he walked in the door, petting Peter’s hair and cooing at him, telling him he needed to shower before dinner. There were specks of blood on the sleeves of his shirt, and he wasn’t the sort of man to go to dinner soiled. But then, as Peter chirped at him so sweetly and said he’d wait for him to finish, Tony had yanked the boy by his hair and shoved his nose into the pillow that he’d humped to climax, snarling at him for doing so, asking him if he thought he could get away with it.
Instead of remorse, which was what he expected from his boy by now (Peter knew better, Tony had taught him better), Peter had huffed, “You made me wait all day, Daddy! It’s been hours.”
The whiney tone hadn’t earned him any favors with the older man. Tony had slapped his ass for it and promptly put that little cock of his in a cute cage. This, like his favorite plug had been, was baby pink and accentuated with a little, condescending bow at the front. It saved him from the unsightly image of Peter’s cock leaking all down his thighs. To double the punishment, he’d forced the boy to stay naked through the duration of dinner.
Naturally, rutting wasn’t allowed. He didn’t want precum smeared on his slacks.
“Daddy,” Peter said, whining as he settled his chin atop Tony’s leg. He felt the boy shuffling against him, his hips pressing tentatively into the expensive fabric of Tony’s slacks. Again. The older man’s scowl deepened. “You’ve barely had any food,” Peter said, his lips curving into a pout. “You’re not even hungry. You’re being mean!”
“And you’ve lost sight of your manners tonight.”
Peter looked startled when Tony pushed back from his seat to give himself more room. He grabbed the boy by his curls, which the older man so often cherished, and hauled him up so he was bent over the table, his hips pressing right into the edge of it. One of the maids, who had been bringing in another scotch for Tony, froze at the sight and then averted her eyes as she backed out of the room.
They knew better than to interrupt when he had a lesson to teach his boy.
“I’m sorry!” Peter was quick to say, realizing that his Daddy wasn’t in a generous mood tonight. It should’ve dawned on him hours ago, but the truth was that Tony spoiled him rotten (the man knew it, too) and he hadn’t had a punishment in weeks.
Not since the incident where Tony had caught him fucking himself out by the pool, where anyone could’ve seen. Oh, he’d been furious about that.
“I don’t think you are sorry,” Tony growled. “I think you’re getting a little too comfortable. All these fancy things that you have now, I could take them away in a heartbeat. I could send you right back out on the streets where I found you.”
“Y-yes,” Peter said.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, sir!” His voice hitched higher, into a faint squeak. Peter felt a hand, big and calloused, caressing his ass.
Oh, no.
“I’ll be good, Daddy. I just wanted to cum,” he said quickly, hoping to stave off a worse punishment before it could start. “Just so horny for you, Daddy. Wanted to — wanted to ride you tonight real good. Yeah. Give you a blowjob, too.”
Tony chuckled, squeezing the meat of Peter’s ass, watching the skin redden with the imprint of his fingers. “That right?” he asked, playing into the boy’s desperate little game.
“Yes, sir! Wanted to let you cum on my face like you like. Remember? Or on my — my tits.”
Tony didn’t have to look at Peter to know he was blushing. He’d never been comfortable calling them that, and he’d always whine and turn away whenever Tony did it. The man smirked. His little brat was being so obvious. “You know what I think?”
“What do you think, Daddy?” Peter whispered.
“I think that you’re a conniving little shit who needs to be taught a lesson.”
Peter let out a squeal when that rough hand came down across his ass. The slap was so hard that it left him reeling, his poor, caged cock dribbling out precum all between his thighs.
“Count.”
He wet his lips, “O-one, Daddy.”
#starker#sfkinktober20#starker fic#ironspider#tony stark x peter parker#tony x peter#tony stark#peter parker#fic#my fic#nff#tw:spanking#tw:daddy kink#starktober fest 2020
90 notes
·
View notes
Text
character: ryomen sukuna
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, rough sex, daddy kink, true form sukuna, size kink/size difference, oral fixation, lil bit of mindbreak, implied fem!reader, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, blood
words: 1.2k
Sometimes, when Sukuna fucks you real good, past the point of coherency, when your words have turned to liquid, all garbled with drool as they ooze from the corners of your mouth to stain his sheets, and your bones have melted and your muscles gone to mush, body perfectly pliant (just the way he likes it), and the only concept your fucked-stupid brain can comprehend is his name and his title, he’ll give your empty, slack little mouth one of his wrists to gnaw on.
The grabby hands are cute, and they let him know that your cognition has been eroded by immense pleasure, intense pain, and that you need something to ground you.
It’s pathetically precious, honestly, how unbelievably needy you become when he fucks you past the point of lucid thought and intelligible speech, desperate for something to occupy that pretty little mouth of yours, to serve as a point of reference, a heavy and sure weight that keeps you tethered to this world.
“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,”
Oh, he knows, baby, he knows.
You prefer his wrist to his hand, claiming it rests better between your teeth, but he doesn’t mind either way—it’s easy to shove one of his free forearms in your gaping mouth, obedient and open, wide and waiting. His flesh muffles those pretty little huffs of cracked breath and the mosaic of whines and whimpers and mewls he’s continuously fucking from your chest, smothering them to little more than damp exhales slicking his skin.
It’s barely a hitch in his movements at all, to wedge one of his large wrists between your eager teeth, two hands curled tightly around your hips as they hold you in place, pinning you to the mattress, another hand splayed wide next to your head, supporting most of his weight.
You alternate between sucking and biting, wholly dependent on how hard his hips are snapping, and he loves to feel those little stuttered sobs flutter against his flesh, exhaled in juddered hiccups.
And, God, it’s so fucking pretty—he isn’t sure he’s seen a prettier sight in his millennium of years, he wasn’t sure something could even be this goddamn pretty—glittering streams of salt streaking your cheeks, their flow steady and constant as warm tears pool around the seal of your lips, soaking into his skin; your mouth stretched wide around his arm, teeth grinding over that prominent bone in his wrist, scraping over the bump in rhythmic motions, back and forth with each strong piston of his hips; saliva trickling from your bottom lip in heavy, viscous cords to smear across your chin in a thick coat and drip off your jaw, stringy and sticky, substance already gone cold by the time it drizzles over your collarbone.
That thick black band encircling his wrist looks so gorgeous lacquered with your spit, gleaming in the dim light as he pounds into you.
He’ll rotate it in your mouth a little, so you drench his entire wrist, coating him in one of your many essences. he loves the smell of you on him, his favourite scent to wear, makes his cock twitch with each whiff of it as your drool steadily soaks into his wrist, steeping his tissues and saturating his blood, dousing his wrist until his skin has gone puckered from the wetness.
Other times you won’t ask for it, because you physically can’t ask for it, tongue gone sluggish and stupid from intense pain.
During instances such as these, it’s up to him to read you, to decode and decipher the beat of your sobs and the melody of your whines, to care for you properly like all good Daddies do, like all good Daddies are supposed to, eager to nurture his most prized possession, to give her want he knows she needs most.
It’s easy to tell, even when your face is buried in his bed, webby smears of saliva streaking his dark sheets as you sob into the mattress—ugly chest-wracking things that leave your ribs heaving and your entire body quivering, fingers curled so tightly in his silk pillow that they’re frozen stiff, aching joints creaking as he uses one of his four hands to uncurl one, then uncurl the other, fingertips pressing tenderly into your knuckles and massaging the numbness from them, the gentleness a stark contrast to the brutal snapping of his hips.
His remaining two hands stay curled around your hips, keeping them hoisted high and held still as he rams into you. A flash of heat spreads throughout your spine as his body blankets yours, his broad chest pressed flush to your sticky, sweat-glazed back, his lips moving along the shell of your ear.
“Does it hurt, baby?”
“Uh—Uh-huh,” you wail out, head nodding in sloppy motions, turning your head so his lips brush your cheek.
“You need Daddy to pacify you? Huh?”
“Yes, Daddy, please, Daddy, yes, Daddy!” you’re crying, mouth already wide open and waiting, tears leaking past the corners to stain your tongue with salt.
“Oh, my poor little princess,” he’s cooing as he wedges a thick wrist between your parted teeth, your jaw immediately flexing around it. “Needs Daddy to give her something to gnaw on while he fucks her,” he tuts his tongue, as if it’s such a shame, as if he genuinely pities you, but you can hear the notes of sadistic glee infusing his voice. “How utterly pathetic.”
The insult is spit in your ear, fading to a growl at the end, a singular sharp huff of air against the curve of your cheek.
And then his hips are pounding again, fucking into you rough and ruthless, the hands on your hips an anchor keeping you from being jostled up the bed as your front teeth involuntarily dig into his flesh.
“Is that better, sweetheart?”
An affirmative hum vibrates up his arm, your head nodding in quick little motions, glassy eyes desperately trying to glance up at him as weighted lids struggle to stay open.
But that just isn’t good enough.
A large hand tangles in the hair at the back of your skull and yanks, your teeth latching onto his wrist tighter, the sudden motion forcing them to scrape against his flesh, a pleasured hiss slipping through the gaps of his teeth.
“Fucking answer me when I ask you a question.”
Yes! you yelp around the wrist crammed in your mouth, instant and instinctual. Yes, yes, yes!
“Good,” he snarls in your ear before shoving your head back into the mattress, front teeth gouging into his arm in the process.
And it’s real sweet, the way such a simple, primal action—a body part shoved between your lips, little tongue curling around the bones of his wrist, sucking it harder, further, deeper—can provide such an immense amount of comfort; sobs calming to sniffles, limbs gone languid and limp, whole form malleable between his large palms.
But he loves it just as much as you do. Because despite the fact that it muddles your pretty sounds, it also leaves the cutest little bracelet of indents around his thick wrist, something he wishes he could wear forever, something that fades much too quickly for his liking.
There’s nothing better than when you break the skin, little pools of blood filling the notches of your teeth until they overflow, drops of crimson streaming down his forearm and along the lines of his palm, because those ones scab, which means they last a little longer, look a little brighter, leave a lingering reminder.
One day, he hopes you’ll scar him with all your gnawing, carve something permanent into his skin just as he’s done to you countless times before, stamp him with your unique signature and claim him as yours, eternally.
#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna smut#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna headcanons#ryomen sukuna drabble#sukuna drabble#whEW cleaning out my drafts hahahaha#inky.sukuna#tw:daddy kink#sukuna hcs#sukuna headcanons
863 notes
·
View notes
Text
feels like forever, even if forever’s tonight
characters: thoma, kamisato ayato
genre: smut
notes: aaaaah my first (finished) genshin piece!!! i had such a blast writing this hehehe i just love this dynamic so! much! reader is female, and this is mostly written from thoma’s point of view. in my mind, this is absolutely a crime family AU, but you’re welcome to think of it in terms of canon if you’d like! please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title cred: mine by bazzi | this piece was originally posted on my main blog.
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, dubcon, manipulation/coercion, daddy kink, toxic relationships, size kink/size difference, belly bulge, cuckolding kinda (ayato watches thoma fuck his girlfriend), praise, reader is quite flexible, a hint of dumbification/degradation, rough sex, overstimulation + mentioned orgasm denial as punishment, dacryphilia, power play/power dynamics, thoma is a sub-leaning switch in this, interchangeable use of the words my lord/master
words: 5.7k
synopsis:
Everything feels raw, exposed, Thoma’s nails scraping against the thin material of his pants, fingers scrabbling for something to do under such an intense stare. That glitter in Ayato’s eyes seems to shine bright and burning as Thoma squirms beneath it, the ghost of a smirk brushing against his lips.
It’s as though his master’s gaze is stripping him bare—stripping the clothes from his skin and the flesh from his bones, prying open his rib cage and peering into his very soul itself. It’s all so invasive, yet Thoma bares it all to him anyway, almost voluntarily, begging his lord for some instruction, some guidance, some rules to follow and obey and be praised for, eliminating any room for error or overstepping of boundaries, desperate to be told what to do and how to do it so he can satisfy everyone and do it well, do it right, do it the very best.
The walls of the Kamisato Estate are intentionally thick, tasked with concealing centuries of secrets within their wooden embrace. Many important words—deals, negotiations, threats—are spoken throughout these halls, many promises made within these rooms, and such precious, confidential sentiments must be protected at all costs.
So, of course, when Thoma hears the distinct murmuring of that low baritone vibrating through the hardwood floor from below Ayato’s home office, he thinks nothing of it. This isn’t out of the ordinary—Ayato often works late, after all, and it isn’t uncommon for him to be busy sifting through documents and conducting phone calls long after Thoma has turned in for the night.
It’s common courtesy for Thoma to let his superiors know when he’s done for the day, and common respect to bid them a good night before he finally retreats back to his own quarters, the action so ingrained in his daily routine it’s become almost instinctual at this point.
Those dense manilla walls keep Ayato’s words muffled and unintelligible, even as Thoma nears the room they’re being spoken from, and he thinks nothing of sliding that heavy wooden door open just enough for his slim body to slip through the crack, as he’s done a million times before.
But the scene he’s met tonight with is unlike anything he’s ever stumbled upon, tongue gone heavy and sluggish in his mouth, saliva gathering in suffocating pools at the back of his throat, so much so that it gurgles with his sharp gasp of surprise and he chokes, coughing around the stinging breath tangled in threads of spit.
Various documents and expensive paperweights litter the floor, evidently knocked to the ground by your writhing limbs, naked body sprawled across the surface of Ayato’s long, low desk, one hand curled around the sharp edge of the dark mahogany wood, the other fisted in Ayato’s expensive dress shirt.
Kneeling between your spread legs, a fully clothed Ayato leans over your body, murmuring out a condescending croon as one strong hand catches the trembling ankle hitched on his shoulder, mindlessly readjusting it.
“Poor thing,” he sighs out with a touch of indifference embedded in his tone. “You’ve completely lost control of your body, haven’t you?”
You’re babbling out a string of unintelligible words, letters welded together with spit on your tongue, head nodding in slow, sluggish, stupid movements.
“Well, that’s okay,” Ayato coos, voice silk and syrup. “You don’t need to do anything when Daddy’s here do to it for you, do you?”
You aren’t afforded a moment to answer, though, the hand buried between your thighs twisting, pumping, curling, two—or three, Thoma can’t really tell from this angle—fingers deep in your glistening cunt, motions yanking a cracked whine from your throat.
“You don’t need to talk,” he grunts in time with the thrusting of his hand. “You don’t need to move,” another grunt, another thrust. “You don’t even need to think at all, isn’t that right, princess?”
You don’t answer, and Thoma isn’t sure if it’s because you’re not supposed to, or if it’s because you can’t, fragmented mewls being torn to shreds by hitched little gasps.
“Thus,” Ayato continues, calmly, coldly, serenely, as if he is completely unfazed by the current situation. “Next time, when Daddy tells you to not talk to a client and to stay put during his meeting, you will obey, correct?”
A moan vaguely reminiscent of an affirmation falls from your lips, head nodding in quicker motions now, short and sharp.
Thoma should leave. This isn’t right, staying to watch something so intimate, hiding in the shadows like a fucking pervert; this is—this is morally reprehensible, this is disgusting, this is a very private matter he should’ve never been privy to.
Yes, Thoma should most definitely leave. Anyone with common sense, with half a mind, with any sort of respect for their superiors at all, would’ve already left.
And yet, his heavy legs won’t fucking move, feet filled with concrete and weighted to the floor, hard cock throbbing, begging, him to stay just a little longer.
But then your misty eyes, half-lidded and unfocused and lolling around in your head like a pair of loosely secured marbles, graze over Thoma’s shrouded figure, and your gaze snaps to his face, shock and terror eradicating that drowsy, dopey haze in an instant.
“Daddy—”
“Hmm?” Ayato hums, the curling of his fingers turned vicious. “Didn’t Daddy just tell you that you don’t need to speak?”
“No—” you gasp, the word trembling, wide eyes stuck to Thoma’s face.
“No?” he seems surprised, a touch of amusement in his tone, and Thoma can practically hear him raising an eyebrow—a question, a challenge. “You’re telling Daddy no, after all of that punishment you just endured?”
“Wa-Wait, Da—”
“Oh,” he clicks his tongue, as if it’s such a pity, and Thoma doesn’t need to see his expression to know his forehead’s crinkling and mouth’s tugging downward, features saturated with mocking disappointment. “And you were doing so well.”
“I just—”
“I was going to allow you to cum, too,” he continues in that solemn tone, mourning your lost orgasm that Thoma’s sure you worked so hard to achieve. “Shame.”
“Daddy!” you squeal, the honorific practically fucked out of you by Ayato’s fingers, face contorting as you force the second name from your mouth. “Thoma!”
And, for a moment, everything stops, your whines gone silent, Ayato’s voracious fingers halting their ministrations. Thoma’s blood turns to sharp ice in his veins, his heart freezing in his chest, his breath gone frigid in his lungs.
“Oh,” Ayato says after a moment of realization, following your watery gaze over his shoulder and staring up at his subordinate. “Thoma, hello.”
Shuffling a little on his knees, Ayato turns to face Thoma fully, a pleasant little smile plastered across his face.
“I—I—” Thoma begins, head shaking in jerky, rigid movements, body thawing enough for him to start backing up, spine whacking painfully against the corner of the wall. “I shouldn’t have—I’m so sorry, my lord—This was—I really just—” his lungs shrivel in his chest as he runs out of air, inhaling harshly to revive them only to choke on his own breath as his eyes involuntarily scan his master’s body, focusing on the shimmering patch of slick staining his trousers, massive cock outlined by the wet fabric clinging to it as it strains against the material.
You’ve soaked him all the way through.
The whimper that sounds at the back of Thoma’s throat as he arrives at such a realization is downright mortifying—automatic, animalistic, pathetic—and he presses his lips together firmly in a futile attempt to silence it.
“Please, relax,” Ayato instructs, calm voice drawing Thoma’s attention back to his face. “You are not in trouble, Thoma,”
And although his voice is ridden with concern, Thoma can see it, that special little twinkle glittering in those periwinkle eyes, the one Thoma’s witnessed a million times before during deals and threats and negotiations, the one Ayato gets just before he strikes.
“I’m so sorry,” Thoma says again, the apology nothing more than a rush of breath from his mouth, elbows bumping against the wall as he raises his hands in surrender. “I was only—”
“Would you like to stay a while?”
Thoma stops.
Stay?
His cock twitches eagerly in his trousers at the prospect, his throat going dry, gummy walls sticking together as he attempts to swallow.
“Uh—Wh-What?”
“You’re welcome to continue watching, if you’d like to,” Ayato continues without a hitch, pleasant and cordial.
“I—” Yes. Yes, he would very much like to. “No, I really should be going. I’m sorry, my lord, I really shouldn’t have stayed—that was so gross of me—please forgive me for such disrespect, I’ll take my leave now—”
“Nonsense,” Ayato dismisses, eyes traveling down Thoma’s quivering body, halting their trajectory at his erection and pausing for a moment before trailing back up. “You are more than welcome to stay if you’d like to. And,” violet eyes flick down to his crotch again, a smug smirk molding to Ayato’s lips. “It seems like you’d like to.”
Of course he’d like to, Thoma’s features crinkle a little in self-deprecating confusion. Who wouldn’t like to?
From behind Ayato’s broad shoulder, you peak out, arms wrapped loosely around your torso, shoulders curved inward in a poor imitation of a shield. You look unsure—unsettled, almost—and Thoma feels that thick, tarry guilt unfurl in the pit of his stomach, spreading to engulf his surrounding organs in its sticky, suffocating embrace, snuffing out his spark of hope in an instant.
What a fucking sicko he is for even considering it, for even deriving the smallest amount of perverse pleasure from such voyeuristic endeavours, for memorizing your expressions and sounds, burning them into the tissues of his brain for later use.
He should’ve never invaded on something so personal, so precious, in the first place.
“I’m not sure she’d like me to.”
He doesn’t mean for it to come out as utterly disappointed as it does, whole face crumpling with bitter embarrassment. Eyes scrunched shut tightly, he attempts to clarify himself.
“I just mean—I don’t want to upset—offend—her any further,”
“There are no such worries to be had,” Ayato reassures lightly as he turns back to look at you, a hand reaching out to cup your jaw, long fingers tracing the curve of your cheek, the bow of your lips. “Right, sweetheart? You don’t mind if Thoma stays to watch, do you? Wouldn’t you like to show him how pretty you look when you cum on Daddy’s cock?”
Another one of those sinful whimpers claws at the back of Thoma’s tongue, but your eyes have gone glassy, glittery, glazed over with sheer want, lips parting a little as you nod.
“See?” Ayato says, but his eyes do not stray from yours, his head quirking slightly, voice gone soft. “She doesn’t mind one bit.”
Microscopic shards of ice prick through his skin, and Thoma shivers.
“Are you sure?” he whispers, wincing with the words.
“Absolutely positive,” Ayato responds with an amicable smile, finally moving to face him again. “But the choice is yours, Thoma.”
Swallowing thickly, Thoma’s eyes shift from Ayato’s face to yours, and then back again, tongue running along this top teeth and sucking as he contemplates. He wants to, of course he wants to, god does he ever want to, but—
“Stay,” you offer quietly, chin tucked cutely to your chest, gazing at him through your lashes. “Please, stay.”
And so, he does.
There’s something so taboo about it all, something so wrong, so bad about watching his boss fuck his most precious treasure, cinders of desire flickering in Thoma’s tummy as he settles down on the floor only a few feet away from your tangled bodies, legs tucked beneath him.
The hunger in Ayato’s eyes is fierce enough to swallow you whole, pupils blown and insatiable as they glide over your body, soaking up every expression, sucking down every sound, his face a heady blend of admiration and ardor.
But Thoma can’t blame him; you look breathtakingly beautiful. Skin sweat-drenched and sparkling, lips bitten raw and puffy, tiny crystal teardrops still clinging stubbornly to your clumped lashes, the devotion in your stare so strong it’s nearly crushing. Paired with the symphony of your soft mewls and sweet whimpers, you’re a living, breathing masterpiece all on your own.
He isn’t sure what, exactly, he was expecting Ayato’s style of fucking to consist of, but the healthy mix of slow, hard, sensual thrusts—filled with murmured out teases and lots of biting, licking, kissing—followed by bouts of fast, rough pistons of his hips—filled with sharp, mocking sentiments and cruel little laughs, all still managing to sound elegant in Ayato’s dignified lilt despite their callous nature—is really fucking hot.
Blunt nails carve crescents into his flesh as his fists clench tighter, thin skin stretched taut over his knuckles.
His cock is aching, but he’s unsure if he’s allowed to touch it. Would rubbing the heal of his palm against it be considered rude, or would Ayato see it as silly constraint? What if he took it out? Does he even want to take it out? Is it weird if he does? Is it weird if he doesn’t?
“Thoma,” his lord calls out in a singsong scold, stilling his hips and snapping Thoma from his thread of thoughts. “I can hear you thinking.”
“Sorry, my lord,” he responds immediately, hands uncurling and palms laid flat against his tensed thighs. “I just, uh, I...I don’t really know what to do.”
Heat scalds his cheeks at the mumbled confession, and he resists the urge to shut his eyes against the mirth his humiliation has painted across his boss’s face.
“You can do whatever you’d like,” Ayato responds, as if it’s that easy, that obvious. Amethyst eyes seach his face, and Thoma forces his spine to straighten, avoiding the temptation to hunch in on himself in a futile attempt to protect himself from his lord’s vying, prying gaze.
Everything feels raw, exposed, Thoma’s nails scraping against the thin material of his pants, fingers scrabbling for something to do under such an intense stare. That glitter in Ayato’s eyes seems to shine bright and burning as Thoma squirms beneath it, the ghost of a smirk brushing against his lips.
It’s as though his master’s gaze is stripping him bare—stripping the clothes from his skin and the flesh from his bones, prying open his rib cage and peering into his very soul itself. It’s all so invasive, yet Thoma bares it all to him anyway, almost voluntarily, begging his lord for some instruction, some guidance, some rules to follow and obey and be praised for, eliminating any room for error or overstepping of boundaries, desperate to be told what to do and how to do it so he can satisfy everyone and do it well, do it right, do it the very best.
“My,” Ayato finally says. “I’ve hardly begun, yet you’re so hard you’re leaking through your pants. It’s...incredible.”
Thoma’s eyebrows knit in confusion, head shaking a little to indicate that he doesn’t understand. Incredible? It’s ignominious, is what it is.
But Ayato’s still observing him with that inquisitive gaze, eyes darting to your heaving body for a moment, still impaled by his cock and trying your best to keep from wiggling impatiently, before returning to Thoma’s face.
“Thoma,” he begins conversationally, and Thoma’s heart begins to pound, ribs rattling with the force. “Would you like a turn? I think it’s awfully selfish of me to keep her all to myself tonight, wouldn’t you agree?”
“I’m sorry?” Thoma sputters as the question tangles on his tongue, eyes blinking rapidly with incredulity, head nudged forward as if he’s sure he’s just misheard his lord.
“I’m asking if you’d like to fuck her,” Ayato chuckles—a patronizing little sound that plays at the back of his throat, as if Thoma’s uncertainty is so cute—and Thoma flinches. It’s always so jarring to hear such a vile curse fall from the lips of such an elegant man.
“I—No, no, my lord, I could never, she—she’s yours, and—”
“You are, by all accounts, our guest this evening. I have invited you to stay, and I think it’d be rude of me not to offer you a turn,” he explains. “You don’t have to if you aren’t comfortable with it,” Ayato adds at Thoma’s hesitance. “I am merely extending the invitation, should you wish to take it. But if you are content with just watching, that is perfectly fine, too.”
“I...Want to,” he slowly exhales the confession from his mouth after a stretch of ringing silence, eyes finding yours. “But...I—Is it alright?”
Mutely, you look towards your Daddy, something akin to distress saturating your features. Ayato frowns, shaking his head a little, and your lips mimic his own, eyebrows raising with incentive.
“Show her your cock,” Ayato demands after a moment of unspoken conversation.
The order startles Thoma, and he coughs around his response. “I, um—”
“Go on,” Ayato urges gently, violet eyes kind and trusting, disarming, that terrifying twinkle Ayato had never dared to turn on Thoma before tonight now replaced with that comforting familiarity his direct commands bring. “Show her your cock, and I promise you, she’ll say yes.”
It’s an odd request, and Thoma doesn’t fully understand it’s implications, but he obeys anyway.
Nodding to himself, Thoma shuffles closer to you, trembling hands fumbling with the waistband of his pants, gracelessly shoving at it until it yields, allowing his cock to spring free.
It glistens in the dim glow of the lamplight, head smeared with precum and steadily drooling out pearlets, shaft pretty and pink and oh-so-perfect. You murmur something, soft and awe-stricken, and Thoma’s gaze snaps to your face.
“Hmm?”
“I said it’s really pretty,” you repeat, seemingly captivated, fingers flexing, as if you wish to touch. “It’s almost as pretty as Daddy’s.”
“Oh! Uh,” heat crawls up the back of his neck and he resists the urge to scratch at it, forcing his eyes to stay trained on your profile. “Thanks,”
“You like it, baby?” Ayato coos, brushing back a few strands of sweat-soaked hair from your temple. “You want it?”
“Yes,” you breathe, gazing up at Ayato before shifting your stare to Thoma, head nodding in dreamy little movements. “Yes, please.”
“Are you sure?” Thoma asks for what seems like the umpteenth time tonight, powerless to keep the question from leaving his mouth, urgently requiring that explicit confirmation that this is real, that this is happening.
“Yeah,” you stare up at him with shimmering eyes, tongue sucking your bottom lip between your teeth and speaking around it. “Please, can I have it?”
Thoma’s body is moving the moment the bashful request tumbles from your lips, body gracefully replacing Ayato’s—who resigns himself to sitting near your head—and hips finding a snug place between your spread thighs, his cock bobbing with enthusiasm.
“So polite, my darling,” Ayato murmurs, and while the timbre in his voice is mocking, his eyes are soft, the pads of his fingertips trailing along your jaw, down the curve of your neck.
A quiet noise of contentment vibrates at the back of your throat, and you lean into your Daddy’s touch, gaze filled to the brim with adoration, begging for more of his sugary approval.
The moment feels too intimate, and Thoma averts his eyes. The head of his cock bumps against your cute little hole a second later, selfishly drawing your attention back to him, and you whine a little, hips twitching downward in desperation.
“She hasn’t been allowed to cum on a cock in a while,” Ayato explains, still gazing at you with melted affection in his eyes, palm stroking your damp forehead. “I’m quite sure she’s exceptionally excited to have you inside her,”
For a moment, such a thought instils in Thoma a bold confidence, sparks of it zipping up his spine, straightening each vertebra as they pass.
But they fizzle just as fast as they ignited, leaving behind a special type of terror, an icy dread that seeps into his bones and submerges his brain.
What if he isn’t good enough?
While his cock is considerably thick—possibly slightly thicker than what you’re used to—he definitely isn’t as big as Ayato. Will he even be able to satisfy you at all, or will he only leave you with the sourness of disappointment and regret? Is he merely here to make an utter fool of himself by cumming so hard, so fast it’s piteous? It’s been an embarrassingly long time since the last time he’s had sex, what if—
“Thoma? What are you waiting for?”
Ayato’s voice yanks him from the snare of his own thoughts once again, his eyes flashing to his superior, worry written into the creases of his forehead. Frowning, Ayato blinks twice, imploring him to speak what’s currently infecting his mind.
“What’s wrong?”
And, oh, it’s so fucking embarrassing to have to say it aloud, to admit to all of his timorous thoughts of being wholly inadequate, eyes downcast as he mumbles out his concerns.
Unsurprisingly, Ayato laughs—something that isn’t quite nice, but isn’t quite mean, either, like candied condescension—and leans forward to clap a reassuring hand on Thoma’s shoulder.
“That is entirely okay,” he says, and Thoma’s brow furrows. “She doesn’t have to cum. You can just use her, if you’d like; she’d be happy with that, too,” he pauses, violet eyes flitting to your own and eliciting an obedient nod, as if to prove his point. “And then I’ll take care of the rest. Just enjoy yourself, Thoma.”
”But...But I—” Thoma’s nose wrinkles in distaste, and Ayato’s frown deepens. Reaching out, he takes the younger man’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it up to face him and holding it firmly in place.
Outwardly, Ayato appears as calm as the smooth, cool surface of an ice-glazed lake, but Thoma knows better. Thoma can see the impatience, the irritation, beginning to simmer just beneath that layer of polished frost; the blazing periwinkle that demands Thoma spit it out already, the infinitesimal flexing of his jaw, methodically pulsing in time with his even breaths; one, two, three, tense, hold, relax, one, two, three.
Clearing his throat, Thoma continues, ignoring the slight tremor sewn into his voice. “But I want to satisfy her, my lord.”
It’s hard not to grimace as the confession hangs thickly in the air between them, Ayato’s eyes clouding over with something undecipherable, something Thoma’s never experienced before. The look makes his skin crawl, little spikes of sweat erupting from his pores as he’s forced to hold his superior’s scalding gaze.
“Alright,” Ayato says after a moment of consideration, finally releasing Thoma’s chin. “I’ll show you how, briefly, and then we can get on with this. Sound reasonable?”
Thoma’s head is nodding, but Ayato doesn’t wait for an answer, moving towards the slighter man and taking Thoma’s hand between his large one, palm molding to the back as he pushes two of Thoma’s fingers down.
“It doesn’t take much,” Ayato’s saying, voice turned professional as he wraps his own fingers over Thoma’s folded ones, bringing their mess of hands to your fluttering cunt and beginning to insert them.
“Daddy!” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut as your delicate flesh yields to the four fingers.
Ignoring you, Ayato continues in the same matter-of-fact lilt. “Her favourite spot is right here,” he curls his fingers, forcing Thoma’s to curl in conjunction, pressing their knuckles into a rough, swollen patch of tissue.
A loud, sharp cry rips itself from your chest, eyes springing open only to fall shut again as Ayato massages the spot, your hips instinctually grinding downward, desperate for more.
“If you can, try to rub your cock against it, like this,” Ayato folds their fingers halfway, forcing them to dig into your silky walls and move in long, slow strokes, each pass over that spot sending a borderline violent shudder rippling through your body.
“It’s very sensitive.” Ayato nudges the spot once more—a demonstration of sorts—before gently removing their fingers. “I trust that now that you know it’s location, you’ll have no trouble angling your hips to ensure your cockhead hits it, yes?”
If he doesn’t cum in the first ten seconds, maybe.
He has several additional questions—what type of thrusts do you enjoy most? Is there a particular pace you like the best?—but Ayato is done teaching.
You seem to be getting restless, too, Thoma’s name falling from your lips in the sweetest little whimpers. “Thoma, Thoma, please, give me your cock, please,”
You sound so fucking needy, almost bordering on bratty as you reach for him, hips wiggling, thighs straining as they spread wider. Cavernous pupils shine in the low light, eyes glazed over with sugared desire and half-lidded with lust.
And finally, finally, Thoma snaps.
His body’s moving before he’s even made the conscious decision to, primal instinct surging through his blood, overwhelming his body and overriding his mind, and he growls, using his sharp hips to keep your thighs spread wide.
It’s all automatic impulse now, rational thought drowned by animalistic urges and sheer desire, that burning need he had been so desperately attempting to suppress, to control, finally erupting, flames of it burning through his veins, incinerating all previous trepidation.
And then he’s shoving his cock into you, moaning at the way your flesh yields to him, submits to him, opens up for him, stretching and splitting to accommodate his girth.
Just one swift, sharp thrust is all it takes to have him buried to the hilt, cockhead pressed snugly against your sensitive cervix. His hips shove forward further, knocking a gasp from your throat, cockhead grinding in slow, hard circles against the mound of tissue.
“Th-Thoma!” you nearly wheeze, little fingers tangling in the cotton of his t-shirt, nails piercing through the thin material and leaving fine, ragged lines of red in the muscles of his back. “Hurts!”
“Oh, you can take it,” Ayato chastises lightly, speaking over the deep growl rumbling in Thoma’s chest. It’s incredible, how calm his lord sounds, how entirely unaffected he seems to be, tone kept conversational, as if none of this matters in the slightest.
But Thoma’s barely listening; Thoma barely cares at this point, ears buzzing and vision blurred by pure lust, this insatiable craving he had tried so hard to deny, to erase, to restrain, so fierce it has dulled all of his senses to anything other than you.
Leaning back slightly, he hooks a hand under each of your knees and pushes up, up, up until your knees nudge your shoulders, legs folded up on either side of your body.
“Be a—Be a good girl and hold yourself open for me, yeah?”
It’s supposed to be an instruction, a demand, but it comes out whiny and full of yearning, voice already wrecked and mangled in his throat. If he were in his right mind, he’d be horrified by how eager, how utterly desperate he sounds. Yet he doesn’t pay it any mind at all, the breathy plead that practically dribbled from his lips like dollops of thick honey, too focused on fucking you for it to be of any importance.
With a singular, shaky exhale, his hips draw back, slow and steady, the smooth sculpted muscles in his arms flexing with the strain as he hovers above you, stilling for just a moment before he’s fucking back into you, his thrust harsh enough to send your entire body skidding against the wood beneath you, setting a ruthless pace from the start.
Each pound of his hips is more brutal than the last, each ramming fractured sobs and pitched mewls of his name from your chest, each forceful enough to shove Ayato’s heavy desk a few inches forward with every plunge into you, mahogany wood scraping against the floorboards.
It must be hurtful for you, each slam of his cockhead against your cervix, each drag of his shaft against that spot, your features twisted in the perfect mix of pain and pleasure; eyebrows scrunched and eyes squeezed shut, mouth lolling open and tongue flopping about, lips slicked sheen with spit, drool oozing from the corners of your mouth to drip in viscous beads along your jaw.
It’s fucking beautiful, the most immaculate piece of art Thoma has ever witnessed, experienced, had a hand in creating.
“You like that, huh?” he’s nearly spitting at you, words sandwiched between ragged pants. “It’s good?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re chanting, head nodding in quick little motions as your eyes drift back, eyelashes fluttering prettily.
“Tell me,” he keens, voice shattered by his razored breaths. “Tell me how much you like my cock,”
And although his tone borders on begging, his eyes are sharp and blazing with ardor, his chest heaving with exertion, strands of golden hair saturated in sweat and clinging to his forehead, his temples, his neck.
“Your cock is so good, Thoma,” you nearly wail. “I love it—I-I love it s’much!”
A groan vibrates in his chest, his eyes shutting tightly before springing open again, shuddering out a breathy little, “Yeah?” in time with the next drive forward of his hips.
“Uh—Uh-huh, so big, fills me up so good, can feel you in my tummy, Thoma,”
The resulting whine that catches in his throat, pitched high and desperate, is absolutely pathetic—though you don’t seem to think so, cute little cunt pulsing around his cock in response.
“Lemme feel, baby—ah, fuck—lemme feel,”
A large hand splays itself on your gut, his hips never once faltering as he presses down, a loud cry falling from his lips as the tip of his cock nudges his palm through your flesh.
“God,” he breathes. “That’s so fucking hot.”
Your dainty hand lays itself atop of his, soft palm pressing down harder, forcing him to feel the bulge of his cock buried inside of you again, a choked moan strangling itself in his throat as the arm supporting his weight begins to quiver.
He can tell that you’re getting close now, whole body beginning to tremble beneath his own, little fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you force yourself open wider for him.
Ayato can tell, too.
“Are you going to cum, sweetheart?” he asks, the pet name drenched in saccharine condescension. “Are you going to show Thoma how very pretty you look, creaming all over his cock?”
You can barely speak, too fucked out to manage anything other than the stammered stream of Yes, Daddy’s and Can I, please Daddy?’s flowing steadily from your mouth.
Ayato gives you his murmured permission—a gentle Go ahead, princess—and then you’re complying, convulsing cunt gushing all over Thoma’s cock, a tangle of his name and your Daddy’s jumbled on your tongue, a mess of letters so intertwined that they’ve become one unintelligible word.
“Good girl,” Ayato breathes, and that’s the first time Thoma has heard him sound affected by anything all night.
Thoma’s thrusts are getting sloppy now, devolved into frantic and uneven jackhammering that gains more speed with each snap forward, the aftershocks of your orgasm still coursing through your veins, vibrations spiking with each pump of his hips.
He can feel his own orgasm simmering in the pit of his stomach, rising higher and higher with every weak throb of your over-sensitive cunt, growing hotter and hotter with every noise he manages to fuck out of you until it’s finally boiling over, up his throat and out his mouth and—
“Oh, oh god, oh, Aya—my lord, I—I’m gonna—Can I—Can I—” And, truthfully, Thoma isn’t sure whether he’s asking if he can cum, or if he can cum inside his master’s favourite plaything.
But he doesn’t have to decide; Ayato does that for him.
Humming in contemplation, amethyst eyes shift from Thoma to you, Ayato’s head tilting slightly. “Would you like his cum, princess?”
Your response is immediate, bleary eyes snapping to Ayato’s face, head nodding enthusiastically. “Oh gosh, Daddy, yes, yes, I want his cum, yes!”
“F-Fuck,” Thoma whimpers, hips stuttering with the shudder of his breath.
“You can cum inside, Thoma,” Ayato grants him permission, voice soft as a silk blanket that envelopes him, caressing his cheek as it drapes itself across his shoulders—a warm, familiar embrace of encouragement, of praise, of approval.
“Th-Thank you, my lord,”
“I want it, Thoma,” you’re whimpering beneath him, blinking up at him with filmy eyes, words drowning in muddled pools of spit collecting in the dips and crevices of your mouth. “I want it, I-I want it, give it to me,”
“Greedy girl,” Ayato scolds with a disapproving click of his tongue, demeanour changed in an instant. “Ask nicely,”
Turning your glassy gaze back on Thoma, you stare up at him like he’s some sort of fucking god, eyes glistening with potent want, an indescribable craving that manifests as pleads spilling from your mouth.
“Thoma, Thoma, please give me your cum, please, fill me up with it, stuff me full of it, I want it so bad, Thoma, pretty please!” you practically cough out, the sentiment fractured by hiccups and gurgled together at the back of your throat, words flowing in one continuous sob.
It’s so fucking hot, so fucking wrong, so fucking delicious, and the whine that claws it’s way past his lips and rips through his gasping breaths is nothing short of gorgeous, pitched high and cracked with pleasure, with desire.
“Give my princess what she wants, Thoma,” Ayato says, and although it’s phrased as a statement, it’s clearly an order, and Thoma’s good at following those.
Three more pistons of his hips and he’s obeying his master. It’s vicious, the shudder that tears through Thoma’s body as his cock throbs, filling you to the brim with scalding, thick cum, so much so that it’s begun to leak out of your cunt, smeared all over Thoma’s cock and your inner thighs, pearly glops of it drooling down your ass to collect in a puddle on Ayato’s desk.
Black darkens the edges of his vision, a pair of strong hands catching him just before he collapses on top of you, Ayato leaning Thoma against his chest, his cheek snug against the crook of his lord’s neck, exhaling uneven little pants of breath against his skin.
Everything feels hazy, like time has slowed, seconds dripping by as if they were hours, the gentle, repetitive rhythm of Ayato’s fingers through Thoma’s hair keeping him grounded in this reality.
“Come here, baby,” Ayato murmurs, holding his free arm out towards you and inviting you to crawl sluggishly towards him. You allow yourself to be wrapped up in your Daddy’s embrace, head finding purchase on Thoma’s damp chest, clinging to the both of them.
“You did so well,” Ayato whispers, punctuating his praise with chaste kisses to the crown of your head. “You both did so well, I’m so proud of you. You were both so good for me.”
And, well, all either of you ever want to be is good for him.
#thoma x reader#kamisato ayato x reader#ayato x reader#thoma smut#kamisato ayato smut#ayato smut#eeeeee i hope this works!!#i figured it would be good to have it here as well#tw:daddy kink#tw:dubcon#tw:toxic relationship#tw:size kink#tw:degradation
457 notes
·
View notes
Text
When Supersoldiers Return
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
Prompt: “Maybe, I need you.”
Rating: Smutttyyyyy (daddy kink, spanking, a bit of school girl kink, sex, p in v, fingering)
You check to see if the hall is clear before you sneak across the hall and steal your favorite sweater of Steve’s for the your devious evening plans. Steve had been away on a mission for almost month and you missed him terribly, so you’d designed a plan to spoil him. It started with his favorite mug of tea, then drawing him a bath and when he was done, he got his surprise.
You’d laid out his sweater with your lingerie and stockings before doing your hair in the certain style that drove Steve wild and then spritzed on his favorite perfume before going to meet him in the hanger. The door of the quinjet was just opening as you arrived. Steve was the first one off the jet and you broke into a smile at the sight of him before breaking into run and flinging yourself into his arms.
“I’ve missed you so much,” you mumble, your face buried into his neck.
He chuckles and rubs your back, “I missed you too, but baby, I smell.”
“Don’t care,” you murmur again, pulling away and kissing his lips.
He smiles against your lips. “I love you,” he says when he pulls away.
“I love you too. Now come on, I’ve got plans for you.”
He smirks, “I like the sound of that.”
You roll your eyes at him and tug him towards his room. “You go in and get ready for a bath while I make you a cup of tea.”
He nods, “yes ma’am.” He sets his shield on it’s hook by the door and heads into the bathroom. You boil the tea water and pull his favorite mug from the cabinet, the pop in the bag. You go in and start his bath and add some scented oil.
“your bath is running, baby,” you say kissing his bare shoulders as he works on taking off suit. The kettle is just whistling as you return so you take it off the burner and pour it into his mug. After it steeps, you bring it into him as he relaxes in the tub. “Your favorite tea, handsome,” you say sitting on the edge of the massive tub and hand it to him.
He smiles up at you and takes it from you. He hums as he sips it, “Thank you for spoiling me.”
You lean down and kiss him. “Anything for my superhero, now enjoy your bath because the real surprise comes later,” you say, kissing him again.
He raises his eyebrows, “Well, then I can’t wait.”
You giggle and stand up, gasping when he smacks your ass. “Steve,” you say, looking over your shoulder at him.
He laughs and goes back to his tea.
You huff and head into the bedroom to put on your new lingerie, stockings and Steve’s sweater. You lay yourself on the bed, doing your best to showcase your legs and wait.
You hear Steve drain the tug and then step out, before he pads into the bedroom in his towel.
“Hi, daddy,” you murmur, as his gaze lands on you.
“Wow, princess, is this all for me?”
You nod and run your hand up your thigh.
“What did I do to deserve this?”
“Maybe,” you pause to wet your lips, “maybe, I need you. Don’t you know I’ve been so lonely without you? We haven’t been able to do all of our favorite fall things and the bed has been so, so, so cold without you.”
He stands there, mouth gaped open and chest glistening.
“Daddy, are you going to just stand there or come unwrap your surprise?”
That snaps him out of it and he drops his towel before he stalks over to the bed. “Babygirl, you’re really spoiling me aren’t you?”
You nod and push yourself up the bed a bit as he climb on it and tsks.
“Did you steal my sweater?”
You nod again.
“That was naughty. I think that you need to be punished.”
You pout, “But daddy, I did it too surprise you.”
He nods, “But you didn’t have permission, so I’m going to give you five spankings, which is less than normal due to the circumstances. Does that sound fair?”
“Yes, daddy, that seems fair,” you reply batting your eyelashes.
“Good girl, now come over here and lay on daddy’s lap.” He says, spreading his legs. His cock hanging half hard and huge between his legs.
You can’t help but lick your lips, “Yes Daddy.” You crawl into his lap and he runs his hands up your legs and hums.
“Such a pretty little girl for me, aren’t you?” he murmurs and you nod, as he flips your skirt and traces the lace trim of your panties. “Are these new?” he asks, pressing his fingers against your folds through your panties.
“Yes, daddy,” you reply resting your chin on your folded hands.
“They are very pretty, does the bra match darling?”
You nod and gasp as he delivers the first smack to your right ass cheek.
“I can’t wait to see it then,” he says, smacking your left.
You gasp again, adjusting slightly as you feel Steve’s cock poking into your belly.
“How many are we at, baby?”
“Two, daddy,” you whimper as he smacks you again. “Three.”
He delivers the last two spankings and then unclips your stockings, before sliding your panties down your legs.
“Such a pretty pussy,” he murmurs, rubbing two fingers up your folds. “will you let me taste this pretty pussy, darling girl?”
“Yes, daddy!” you squeal as he manhandles you on your back on the bed and slides between your legs.
“I can smell you from here. You really missed me didn’t you?”
You look down the bed at him and nod.
He kisses your thighs. “Take daddy’s sweater off and let me see those pretty titties.”
You grab the hem of the sweater and pull it off.
He sucks in a deep breath, “Such a pretty set, baby girl, I’m such a lucky guy.”
You belly heaves as your breathing picks up in anticipation.
He leans in and starts to suckle at your clit as he pushes two fingers into your pussy.
You arch off the bed, slightly with a gasp.
He curls his finger into your sweet spot and you cry out. “Are you gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”
“Yes!” you gasp, arching as he sucks hard on your clit and adds another finger. All of sudden, you cum gushing over his fingers and soaking him to the wrist.
He curses, “Fuck, baby girl, did you just squirt for me? That was so fucking hot.”
You pant as he licks his fingers clean. “Daddy, please, need you inside me, I’ve missed your cock so much.”
He stands with a groan and fists his cock a few times, before sliding it into you.
You moan and arch into Steve’s chest as he cages you against the mattress.
“So fucking good for me, aren’t you? Spoiling me with new lingerie and my favorite tea,” he mutters as he grunts, his sack slapping against your ass as he fucks you with abandon. He pulls the cups of your bra down and ducks his head to suck at your nipples. You thread your fingers into his hair and tug as he nips at your breasts.
“Daddy, I missed you so much,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist as he pushes you up the bed with the force of his thrusts.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, wanna fill you up? Can I baby girl? Can daddy fill you up?” he grunts, before moving his lips to your neck to suck a hickey there.
“Yes, yes, yes, please fill me up, daddy,” you pant as you cling to him.
He grunts once, twice more before cumming with a roar and filling you with warm ropes of his cum. His thigh tremble and he slips his fingers down to play with your clit. You gasp and screw your eyes shut, you body going taught with pleasure as your cum hard again screaming into Steve’s neck.
After few moments and you both come down from your highs, Steve kisses your temple and then tenderly cups your face. “I love you, (y/n). Thank you for my surprise,” he says, softly.
You smile at him and peck his lips. “You’re welcome, I really did miss you,” you murmur, nuzzling his cheek.
“I missed you too, I don’t wanna be away from you that long again.”
“I don’t want you to be alone from me that long either, but I share you with the world. It is the burden I must bear,” you tease, pushing his hear back from his forehead.
He chuckles and shakes his head, “You’re so dramatic.”
You giggle and kiss him again.
“What would you say if I asked tony for some time off?”
“You can do that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I can. I think it’s good time, Bucky is doing well with the team. Sam is really coming into his own as leader and the group C of the new recruits are just about ready to go into the field, so yeah, I think I can ask.”
“Then I think it’s a good idea,”
“We can book a room at a little bed and breakfast, go away for a week and catch up on all those fall activities that I’ve been neglecting to do with you.”
You smile brightly at him, “That would be amazing.”
“Yeah?” he asks, returning your bright smile.
You nod. “It sounds perfect, Stevie,” you say, stroking his cheek.
“Then it’s settled, I’ll set it up tomorrow,” he murmurs, kissing you softly.
You wrap your arms around his neck and nip at his lip. “You spoil me.”
“Give and take, baby, give and take. Now, rest and I’ll take care of everything in the morning. I just want to sleep with you in my arms tonight.”
“I’d like that, can we clean up first though? I’m sticky.”
He nods, “of course.” Steve extracts himself from you before he pads off to get a washcloth and you take advantage of the moment to rid yourself of your bra and stockings. You pull Steve’s sweater over your head again and wait for Steve to return. You close your eyes and exhaustion seeps into your limbs. Steve gently cleans you up and then curls his massive frame around you.
“Night, baby girl,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.
“Night Daddy,” you reply, sleepily before letting yourself slip into sleep, cradled in your wonderful boyfriends arms for the first time in almost a month.
Tagging: @angryschnauzer @persephone-is-here-omg @soldatsaleannan @salimahbicharara-comun
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
a minute alone. | e.kirishima. ʚ !! ɞ
❧ ; SYNOPSIS. your birthday has rolled around again and despite the party he’s thrown in your honour, your pro hero boyfriend, eijirou kirishima, has plans to celebrate in other ways.
❧ ; cpu characters. eijirou kirishima x afab!reader.
❧ ; word count. 1.9K
❧ ; genre + rating. pro hero!au, fluff, smut, 18+, minors do not interact !!
❧ ; game warnings. - proceed with caution !! characters are in their twenties, pure filth, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, blowjobs, daddy!kink, praise!kink, soft dom!kirishima, sex in a closet.
❧ ; streamer commentary. happy saturday my loves !! i hope you’ve been taking care of yourselves! thank you so much to my baby @drakendme for commissioning me this kirishima piece !! and to @katsu-s for beta reading !! enjoy <3 m.list. + tip jar.
“where’ve you been baby? fuck, i missed you,”
frazzled from being whisked away from a party hosted in your name, your eyes shoot upwards to meet frantic garnet ones— lined with the familiar spark of lust that you know oh so well, sending a strike of warmth down your spine. “feel like i haven’t seen you all night,” kirishima groans, hands flying from your wrist which he’d pulled you into the closet by to the soft flesh of your waist, mapping out your curves with desire-filled familiarity. “fuck, were you always this soft?”
“eijirou,” you sigh, the feel of his hands pulling apart your clothes just to smooth against your bare body, just to love up on you, making you tingle— his desperation for you hot along your front as your boyfriend pins you against the door. “w-we should get back out there...i-it’s my party, i should be— be mingling...a-and the cake! they’ll be doing it soon…” you can’t seem to gain control of your words, the stuttered syllables becoming twisted with saliva as more of it pools on your tongue with your increasing need, kirishima’s lips falling to your neck, his rough palms making it past the barrier of your shorts and somehow discarded shirt to play with you in every which way you like.
“fuck the cake, fuck the party. i want you baby, wanna make you feel good so fucking badly…”
it doesn’t matter what you say anyways, for your mumbled phrases akin to moans fall on the redhead’s deaf ears, he’s too frazzled, far too hungry to focus on the thump of the music outside and the guests that could be wondering where you are— not when he’s craving something only you can give him. kirishima’s eyes had been set on you since before the night had evenbegun, and fuck, he wished he’d never chosen to throw you a fucking birthday party— so he didn’t have to watch you get ready, slip into that outfit you know he loves, watch you flitter through friends at the event like a social butterfly and chatter away with your pretty lips and dazzling smile.
but now he has you, alone and trapped against the closet door melting like putty between his expert fingers as they dance up your bare stomach to tweak your bare nipples until they pebble under his touch before they slip down into your underwear— getting a taste for how much you need him too. “baby, baby...fuck you look so fuckin’ good t’night, couldn’t wait to get my pretty angel alone,” eijirou coos, still ignorant of your halfhearted complaints— pressing his forehead against your own, star crossed lover’s slips inches apart, seconds away from meeting in a searing kiss. “y’gotta let me have you, yeah? you gonna let me baby?”
shaking your head, you try to deny him— what with a celebration held in your honour raging on outside. “y-you’re the one who wanted...t’host this party, e-eji—!” you all but whine. “didn’t even want one!”
there’s only so long that you can hold against eijirou kirishima’s soft smiles stretched over his hungry lips while he snaps the band of your underwear against your hips. “c’mon angel, don’t be ungrateful now. did all this for you. daddy did all this for you…” your boyfriend’s voice trails off huskily, but his hand trails lower, finally slipping past the seams of your undies, gliding over the sudden and heavily apparent stickiness of your slit. “don’t i deserve to make my baby feel good? after all i did for them… and it is their birthday after all.” his calloused fingertips experimentally prod at your clit, blood rushing to the untouched pleasure button, making you gasp out for more even as he pulls away. “god you’re so wet, you sure you don’ wan’ it baby?
you can tell he’s in a mood, feeling it crackle in the air between you as eijirou slots a thigh between your legs at the same time as his lips mold against yours, perfectly moulding together in a searing kiss— your boyfriend licks feverishly into your mouth, spit slicked tongue gliding against your own in smooth sensual movements as your breathing becomes ragged, chests heaving, both of you disregarding the need for oxygen while your need for one another builds higher and higher, reaching for the skies.
“wan’ it, please. wan’ you,” you don’t even know what you’re begging for, what you want from him lost in the veil of lust that shrouds your brain in bright and burning shades of red— the party outside is long forgotten, the bass of the music hidden by your gentle mewls and the wet slap of your lips moving along with kirishima’s, following his lead and tumbling after him into the depths of neediness. caught up in the clash of teeth and tongue, you barely notice your boyfriend grinding his denim clad and strong thigh against your drooling cunt, pulling muffled whimpers from your spit-slicked and cherry-bitten lips.
your back arches from the door, hips moving with a mind of their own back and forth, back and forth against the flexed meat of kirishima’s thigh— your glassy eyes darting up to his amused and handsome face which is barely visible in the dark, “that so angel? y’want your birthday gift from daddy that bad, huh?” kirishima slurs, salivating just from watching you ride him, the sight of your bare cunt grinding against his rough jeans, puffy folds with his thigh trapped between them enough to drive the man completely insane— his large palms grab at your hips to lift you up and down, switching up the stimulation on your sex and giving him the perfect view of the strings of your slick clinging onto him— clear and thick like globs of honey, adding a glisten to your mound.
the new feeling has your brain fizzing, your mouth falling open in small broken whimpers that increase in octave as his thumb reaches down to flick rapid circles into your clit, streams of your sweet nectar seeping through the fabric of his pants and staining his golden skin— only serving as motivation for kirishima to give you more, more, more. to make you fall apart at the flimsy stitches of sanity holding you together on your birthday and take you to high heavens.
“‘hmygod! d-daddy! please,” you cry, your own quivering thighs squeezing around kirishima’s to lock him against your fluttering, slicked up pussy. “g-gonna cum, please lemme cum! e-eiji!”
“so soon baby?” chuckling, airy, light and breathy against your kiss swollen lips, the redhead nods— speeding up the pace of his thumb against your swollen nub, grinding his knee against your puffy folds as your toes curl from the orgasm sneaking up on you, brewing in your lower tummy. “go ahead sweet one, it is your birthday after all, let daddy make y’cum as your birthday present,”
kirishima fucking groans, mocking your squealed moans, the sound reverbrating in his chest when you fall apart on his thigh— cute little cunt twitching and gushing while you sob and ruin yourself all for him, honey glazed slit still going, still cumming all for him like the perfect little gift you are. “eijirou...ei please,” you cry broke my when there’s cheering outside, calls of name as your birthday celebration hits its peak. your boyfriend pulls away only just, but you can feel the lack of his warmth even through your post orgasmic haze. “d-daddy, daddy no—“
you just about catch the clink of his belt before he’s back on you, kirishima’s breath tingling against your lips while a hand smooths over your ass and thighs the other tapping his cockhead against your oozing cunt. “just a minute baby, daddy’s here, daddy’s right fuckin’ here,” the redhead slurs over the saliva pooling on his strawberry tongue, slipping his cock past your tight little entrance, his sheer size causing him to jam up against your gummy, spasaming walls. “you’re so tight, oh you’re so good, gonna use your pretty pussy t’cum yeah? use my pretty baby t-to cum—oh shit!”
hot lips against the shell of your ear, eijirou tells you to jump— using his brute strength to keep you up against the wall, drawing his hips back and pull his cock from your heat as it costs him in your juices, white and stringy as it slides between your ass cheeks and over his balls.
“f-fuck, daddy,” you whinge, tears brewing in your eyes just as kirishima sets a pace to his thrusts, sending your back thumping up against the closet door just from their power. just like before, he lifts you up and down, forcing you to take him deep inside, veins on his dick catching against the ridges of your drooling pussy just like they did many times before— kirishima carving his name against your guts and when he hits that spot, your thighs quiver around his slender waist and your nails dig deep into his broad shoulders. “‘m gonna, gonna—“
shaking his head, a mop of sweaty red locks dropping to your neck, eijirou smirks against your salt licked skin. “already pretty baby? fuck, you’ve barely taken my cock and i can already feel you gettin’ close again,” he teases so sweet and condescendingly, acting as if he doesn’t hold power over your body, as if he can’t make you see stars with just the twitch of his length inside of you. “oh i’ll make you cum again baby, as many times as you want, as many times as my angel needs,”
he tells you with ragged breathing, marking his praises and love into your skin in the shape of love bites and bruises with his teeth. his tip oozes fat beads of precum against your squishy walls that lock him in selfishly the closer you both get, the both of you losing yourselves in one another, fucking like long lost lovers in the closet— hiding away from your birthday party. “c’mon baby,” kirishima grunts, moving you up and down on his cock the way you both like, pelvis grinding into your clit. “give it t’daddy, cum for daddy just like he knows you can.”
“eiji!” you squeal while he chants praises like a mantra along with words like ‘you’re so good,’ ‘that’s my fuckin’ baby,’ working you towards your high until you can’t hold back anymore, convulsing in sun kissed arms as the grip your little hole has around his cock tightens, squeezing the life out of him while you gush, frothing around his base with a shout of his name.
the force of your orgasm has eijirou pulling out, pushing you to your knees as the overstimulation becomes too much for him to bare— and through your post orgasm haze your mouth manages to find his cock, frothed up with a mix of your cum and his pre while he sits on the edge of euphoria. “o-oh, oh angel, that’s it, you take cock so good baby,” he fucking whines, shaking above you— hand on the door while your hot mouth sucks him down. “p-please let me cum down your throat? please baby, shit, i’ll do anythin’, anything!”
eijirou begs like a man pleading for his life, tears clumped in his lashes from holding back for you— to make you feel good on your birthday. so swallowing around him once more, you hum in approval before his cum pours down your throat in thick hot waves, making you choke and splutter in a way that your boyfriend absolutely adores.
pulling out and leaning down to kiss you, kirishima grins as you speak sweet words into his mouth— letting him taste himself on you. “guess we both got gifts tonight, huh?”
“mhm,” he only smirks in response, lips meeting yours again. “happy fuckin’ birthday baby,”
#tteokdoroki#kirishima x reader#kirishima x you#kirishima smut#bnha x reader#bnha smut#kirishima fanfic#kirishima fic#kirishima imagine#mha smut#mha x reader#mha x you#bnha x you#kirishima drabble#eijirou kirishima smut#eijirou kirishima x reader#kirishima eijiro smut#kirishima eijirou x reader#eijirou kirishima x you#tw:daddy kink
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Yes but the bedroom is not the only place where Grantaire is Enjolras'daddy. He's the one to make sure Enjolras is eating and not fucking up his sleep schedule. He gives Enjolras his jacket everytime they're out, because he likes the claiming feeling. He gives a subtle warning glance when Enjolras is stepping over the line when talking to people; he hugs him from behind and drops a kiss to the top of the blonde's head, whispers sweet nothings, warnings and filthy teasing. Enjolras needs it.
I'm so glad you sent this again, thank you ❤️❤️
First of all, I would like to say that what follows is my point of view, only mine and I don't want to impose it on you or anyone else. This is pretty important for me, because I think all takes are valid and personal ❤️
That said, I really can't see this evolving with "controlling" outside the bedroom, because I don't think that's something neither Enjolras nor Grantaire would be comfortable with, and this all comes from my headcanon of Enjolras being anxious (I know everyone must be fed up with me because I always say it) and I see this as some sort of balancing, when Enjolras's comfortable enough to let walls down and let himself be taken care of (but again, please don't take this as me trying to make you change your/ anyone's else's mind, it's just my personal headcanon, and I hope I didn't upset you in any way, and if I did I'm really sorry)
But for the cuddling and the teasing, that's something I completely agree with!!
Enjolras always, always forgets his jacket, or at least he says he does but it's just a trick to steal Grantaire's one, "you could just ask to borrow, you know, before going out, so I won't freeze." "But I want it to smell like you" "You're so maddening cute"
#Lovely anon#Please tell me if upset you I want to apologize#I really didn't mean to#Enjoltaire#Enjolras#Grantaire#Tw:daddy kink
14 notes
·
View notes
Note
u alr know ….
zeke + daddy (ﾉ>ω<)ﾉ♡
👀 syd…..
there’s something dizzying in the sight of you on your knees before zeke, your soft hands smoothing up his thighs as you make yourself comfortable. your lips and tongue are stained a bright blue, the culprit still hanging out of the corner of your mouth. zeke has never wanted to be a piece of candy more in his life than now, you knew what you were doing, making a show of rolling your tongue all over the lollipop until he couldn’t take it any longer.
“you’re evil,” he groans, biting on the end of his glasses, “i’m gonna go insane ‘cause of you angel.”
you smile up at him, faux innocence written all over your face, “i don’t know what you mean, daddy.”
15 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
doobidie
doobidie
sublimeobservationarcade
Hands of Time
is-ve-kariyer-dunyasi-haberleri
Eğitim Kariyer ve İş Dünyası Güncel Haberler
josmairyarmylove-blog
armylove
annasa8-blog
SA Life