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want a guy to cum in my panties and make me walk around with them on

soft domination >>>

territorial hand holding. follow me into the dressing room. order for me at restaurants. send me silent orders with your eyes. your hand on my thigh while you drive. laying out an outfit for me while i’m in the shower.

control the little things too🩷

I think I’d actually lose my mind if they made me sit in their lap with their cock inside me while they left pretty marks all over my neck and chest, fuck I wish I was in their lap

send me a rape threat in my asks pls? 🥺

my dream man is an older guy who’s my secret boyfriend: always checking up on me, telling me how pretty and little i am, uses proper grammar, and let’s me call him daddy every other sentence ʚ♡⃛ɞ

need.

Kissing you all day and cumming inside all night

I want someone utterly obsessed with me. I want their cock raising at my scent. I want it to hurt him so fucking bad when we're apart that he cant help but fuck my pretty brains out all over the house the moment we finally see each other again. I want him so addicted to me that every moment he's not inside of me, its torture. I want his urges for me to get so bad he pulls me into the nearest bathroom or dark corner and lose all recollection of what he's doing and how public of an area we're in. I want his cock buried deep in my pussy 24/7, pushing his cum inside of me and breeding me at every waking moment. Is it too much to ask for?

Terubossu

I know you’re tight baby.

That’s why I’m going to turn you into a dripping mess with my tongue before you get to even feel how thick I am.

the feeling of getting bred is so addictive. a possessive dom grabbing my hips like handlebars so he can hit that spot that makes me cry into the pillows. our juices mixing as i feel more and more burning hot cum being dumped against my cervix. the feeling of a cock stretching me out while it fucks more and more cum into me. i want to be bred till my brain goes fuzzy

being sleepy but horny is such an odd mix of emotions bc like yes i’m about to knock out rn but also i would not complain at all if you pushed up my nightgown and started eating me out and then fingerfucked me while i’m tiredly whimpering.

Wild Thing | Timothee Chalamet

M A S T E R L I S T

300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION. 

smut | dom!Timmy au requests info wanna be on a Timmy taglist? click here

the rest will be released once I’ve hit 300 followers. thank you all for your support and kind words. you all mean the world to me, thank you for believing my writing is worth reading. xx

oh btw: the second part is the super filthy part. this part is mild at best. ;)

Czytaj dalej

explicit sexual content; major age gap (r is 18+); MDNI

it's wrong on a multitude of levels.

you're disrespecting your parents by letting this happen. you're probably direspecting yourself by letting this happen. but pleasure has a funny way of making any other concerns nearly insignificant.

but it's almost easy for you to forget about possible repercussions whenever you're being fucked within an inch of your life by ares.

legs spread, held open forcibly by two big hands that have caused more damage than you can even begin to fathom. he's splitting you open, a cock too big for you having been forced within your walls as he believed you were made to take him. that’s entirely untrue.

there was never any concern about fitting, or about how harsh he would be. because as far as he was concerned, you were a demigod, you were made to take a brutal fucking from a god like him. you could handle it.

the same way he believed you could handle his endless teasing. words meant to scare you doing just that when combined with a hand sprawled across the base of your throat, threatening to choke you if it's what he desired.

"don't you feel disgusting letting me do this to you? you know you're too young for me, little girl. far too young." he continues to slam into you, his balls slapping against your spread ass cheeks with each thrust.

he throws your legs over his shoulders, bends you in half, and gets in your face.

"you think your mother would be disappointed? because i know she would." he laughs in your face, big and boisterous as if you should be joining in too. instead, you're making pornographic sounds, little pathetic shaky groans.

completely undeterred, ares continues. "her pretty, perfect daughter, having her pussy split in half by me. she might actually be the first god to die if she found out. she might even disown you."

you try to turn your head away, hide the tears sliding down your face. but ares wraps his hand around your jaw and forces you to look at him.

"what about your little friends? hm? how'd you think they'd react?"

as if punctuating his statement, he turns to look at the cabin door, where just outside of the stone are your closest friends, your family, going about their day completely oblivious to what's happening in your cabin.

expecting you to answer, ares prompts you. "huh? you have anything to say?"

his fingers dig into your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout as you shake your head.

"no?" you shake your head again.

ares grins, big and powerful. "that's okay. you just lay there and take it like the good little girl that you are."

i'll pretend you'll stay forever ; kento nanami.

pairing kento nanami x f!reader  word count 2.4k  synopsis no one knows that the bodyguard for the prime minister's daughter fucks her on a daily basis. content contains bodyguard!nanami x prime minister's daughter!reader, big, beefy, strong nanami hehe, creampie, slight brat taming, pet names (baby, good girl, bad girl), cockwarming, dom!nanami, hair pulling, car sex, nanami makes you call him sir author's notes s2 was animated for the nanami girlies

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

Granted, he’s been practically bred for the position. Born and raised by a mother and father who also dealt in espionage, sent to boarding schools that would feed him directly to The Academy, constantly being reminded of his purpose. Agent Nanami serves as one of the Prime Minister’s most trusted secret operatives. A select few who are given the most sensitive assignments. 

“K-Kento — too much,” your shaky whines sound even louder than they actually are, emphasized by the silence in his car. 

Sensitive — yes, that’s what you are. 

“You can take it.” He tells you, gently stroking your cheek. His calloused thumb wipes away a stray tear, and he takes you in. You’re still tearing up, your lashes slick, and you’re pouting at him. You’re always pouting, probably because growing up, you’ve never been told no. It’s not required according to his assignment file (most of what Nanami has been doing with you has decidedly been not required), but Nanami’s been trying hard to give you lessons that will have you behaving politely and like a good girl rather than the spoiled brat you actually are.

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

When he’s told that he is to be the primary bodyguard for the Prime Minister’s daughter, he accepts it without hesitation. Everyone else has had no luck with you, and you certainly don’t seem to be bothered by that fact. You’re in college now, and you want nothing more than to skip lectures and go to parties, both of which is rather difficult when you have a bodyguard watching your every move and reporting directly to your father.

Nanami goes about his assignment in a different way. There’s another bodyguard, one who is also watching you, but young Itadori cannot possibly go about protecting the Prime Minister’s most beloved daughter safe all by himself. He’s barely graduated from the Academy.

Besides, you automatically dislike any of the guards assigned to you. Itadori is a nice, young man, and in different circumstances, everyone is certain that you would have enjoyed his company. The fact that his job is to protect you seems to be his only fatal flaw in your eyes.

Nanami is no stranger to undercover work, and so posing as a final year doctoral candidate at the university you’re attending is an easy cover. Setting up the perfect chain of events that leads to you specifically choosing him to be your economics tutor was also an easy enough task. 

And somewhere along the lines, you got this idea inside of your pretty, little head that you’re just the smartest, sneakiest girl around. You think you’re evading Itadori’s watchful eyes, taking advantage of his rookie status even though he’s always aware you’re “sneaking off” to meet with Nanami. You think you’re finally rebelling against your father’s strict instructions to stay out of trouble. 

And while Nanami does ensure that you keep out of trouble, he’s not sure if your father will approve with how he’s keeping you so obedient.

Kento Nanami is good at his job.

You’re not the first brat that he’s had to train, but you’re proving to be quite the star student. You hold back any more whining complaints, and instead, you’re straddling his lap like the good girl he knows you can be, his thick cock fitting snugly inside your pussy.

Both of your hands are clutching onto his broad shoulders, your pretty, manicured nails digging into the stiff cotton of his blue button-up. His mind doesn’t register the sting of your nails practically sinking into his skin. All he can focus on is what a pretty, dazed little mess you are. 

“See?” He coos, sounding not the least bit condescending. The warmth of his baritone, the reassuring strokes on your cheek — Nanami is a gentleman. You practically beam with pride as he tells you, “I told you you could take it. Such a good girl.”

You still haven’t moved yet, and Nanami whispers more words of praise for you. It only took two weeks of training to get you to understand that you can beg for his touch, his attention, his cock, all you want, but he gives it all to you under his terms and conditions. He knows you want some friction, knows that you need it so badly because why else are your walls clenching down so heavily on his length? You’re being so patient with him that he feels himself getting impossibly harder at the thought of your perfect behavior. 

“You want to ride me, baby?” The question comes out as a throaty whisper, the clear desire he has for you evident in his rough tone. 

You nod eagerly, damn near salivating at the thought of finally being able to take what you want. 

“Use your words.” He demands, moving his hand to caress your face once more before letting his thumb toy with your bottom lip. 

“Yes,” you whimper out, trying your hardest to resist the temptation to start moving, to have the feeling of his cock brushing against your walls, in and out, in and out.

His eyes narrow, and his cold demeanor is enough to keep you frozen in place. Oh, you’ve upset him. 

“You were being such a good girl, too.” He shakes his head in disappointment. “When you answer me, what are you supposed to say?”

“Y-yes, sir.” 

“And if you knew this, why didn’t you say it the first time?” The way he snaps at you shouldn’t give your tummy butterflies, but it does. Nanami is far kinder and gentler than he lets on, and it’s why you enjoy it when he takes on such a demanding role when it’s just the two of you. No one can handle your attitude as well as Nanami, and that’s precisely why you’re warming his cock right now, walls tightening around him with every stern scolding that leaves his mouth. 

“You can’t answer me?” The sharpness of his tone turns you demure, making you turn your head down and away from him, refusing to answer or look at him, and he frowns at that. You feel him wrapping your hair around his hand, and the movements are soft, slow, gentle at first—

—and with speed and dexterity that shouldn’t belong to a mere student, he’s yanking you by your hair, forcing you to snap your head up and look him in his cold eyes. 

“You were behaving so well earlier.” He feigns disappointment, but the hungry glint in his eyes tells you that he’s been looking forward to whatever punishment he has in store for you. “What a shame. I was going to let you have me however you wanted, let you take control for once.” He leans down, whispering in your ear. “Instead, it looks like I get to fuck you like the bad girl you really are, hm?” 

Before you can protest, apologize, beg for mercy, he takes his free hand to grip your waist, strong enough to lift you slightly off of him, only to slam you back down on his dick. 

You let out a strangled cry at the sudden intrusion. It’s one thing to have him sink into you inch by inch; it’s another thing entirely to have him practically impale you with his dick.

His thrusts are rough, hard, unforgiving. Never sloppy, though — Nanami’s much too meticulous to reduce himself to a wild animal, even though he’s fucking you so hard, you can’t tell if he hates your guts or just wants to rearrange them. 

His hand is still tangled in your hair, and he pulls some more, forces your neck to arch up. He leans in, licking at the soft skin of your neck before nipping at the skin, hard enough to leave a mark you’ll need to cover up with a turtleneck because no amount of concealer can save you now.

You mewl in pain at the sensation, but it’s obvious you love it. You’re dripping all over his dick, forcing wet, squelching sounds to fill the car every time he moves inside of you. You should be ashamed — would be ashamed — if only the overwhelming pleasure didn’t leave your mind shrouded in a hazy mist of lust and rapture. The pinpricks of pain from how he’s pulling your hair and from the fresh lovebites marking your flesh should hurt more, but you’re too lost in the way his cock is filling you up. 

“Look at that.” Nanami growls, untangling his hand from your hair in favor of putting his fingers to better use: stroking your clit. “You’re fucking soaked.” You look down as he commands, and your eyes widen in surprise, even though it shouldn’t come as such a shock to you. The front of his trousers is absolutely drenched with your juices, and your clit practically glistens in the faint moonlight that sneaks past the tint of his car. “Is this why you like to be a bad girl? Because you like getting fucked like a fleshlight, is that it?”

You want to shake your head no. You want to tell him that you are good, that you’re not a bad girl. But the stimulation on your clit, his harsh words, the way his cock is repeatedly hitting that special spot of yours — it’s all too much for you to handle.

“I want to treat you so well, baby. I want to spoil you, give you everything, but you make it so — fucking — difficult.” He speaks through clenched teeth, the warmth and ecstasy of being buried in your sweet pussy slowly chipping away at his resolve. The last three words of his sentence have all been punctuated by a particularly brutal thrust, and you’re certain that by the end of this, your cunt will keep the shape of his cock forever.

“I’m sorry!” You scream out, tears flowing freely down your cheeks now. The pleasure is mind-numbing, earth-shattering, reality-altering. Neither of you know what you’re apologizing for. Is it for being a bad girl when all Nanami wants is for you to behave so he can bring you the world at your feet? Is it for the wet mess you’re making all over his nice clothes and cock? Or is it for the fact that you’re breaking a cardinal rule, one that he will be most displeased by?

Maybe it’s all of the above, but if you had to pick, the apology would be for the fact that you’re cumming without permission. Your conscious mind is aware that Nanami is not going to be very happy with you, but this climax has you seeing stars. You can’t find it in yourself to worry about future consequences when you’re losing yourself in the throes of passion and pleasure. You’re drenching his cock in your cum, seeing stars, and reduced to feeling like a boneless mess. You slump against his strong chest, eyes struggling to remain open as you rest your head on one of his big, broad shoulders.

The punishment doesn’t come immediately — it rarely ever does. Nanami bides his time and doles out his punishments when you least expect it. He does it to keep you on edge, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t excite you. 

Instead, he lets you rest against him, reduced to nothing more than a little, fucked-out mess. You feel a rumble from his chest, a series of grunts and curses leaving his mouth as the bucking of his hips is done so harshly, you’re certain that you’re going to be bruised everywhere, from the soft flesh of your thighs to your poor cervix. A few more thrusts and Nanami is certain that he is planted as deep as he could go, the tip of his cock hitting you at your most sensitive spot. 

You feel him bury his face into your hair, taking in the scent of your shampoo and the lingering aroma of sex and sweat. His cock throbs in sporadic bursts, and you hear him grunt out your name like a broken prayer.

He cums, unloading a hot, heavy load directly inside of you, flooding you. You think you forget how to breathe, and all you can do is just take it, take all of him.

The warm sensation has you moaning softly; the feeling of him completely dominating your senses, your body, you, has you wanting him to never let you go, to never leave. You tighten your core, trying to squeeze more of his cum into you as he lets out little groans of pleasure from above you. You love reducing him to a moaning mess, reducing him to this sex-dazed state whenever he lets go because of you.

You don’t think you’re capable of speech, throat raw from your previous screams of pleasure, but you find that you don’t have to speak to let Nanami know what you want. As you lift your head from his shoulder, relishing in the sight of Nanami with his head leaned back, cheeks flushed from the exertion of giving you the best dick of your life, he opens his eyes to meet yours. Leaning down, he captures your lips and gives you a messy, sloppy kiss that is so unbecoming and out of character for him. 

The makeout session lasts until your eyes feel droopy and you’re not responding anymore. Nanami just looks down at you with a fondness that he hasn’t felt for anyone else in a while. You’re all tuckered out, and you’re breathing softly and slowly, lost to the world of dreaming. He’s a bit exhausted, too. He should pull you off his cock and buckle you back safely in the passenger seat, but he sees a small trail of his cum dribbling out of your overstuffed pussy and he figures it’s less of a mess if he just keeps you nice and plugged up for the time being.

Before he can close his eyes and join you, the crackle of his telecom planted in his watch comes to life. The static doesn’t do much to alter Itadori’s voice.

“Y1 to K1, this is Y1 requesting status of the Princess. Over.”

The “Princess” is currently dozing peacefully with his cum settling in her cunt. Nanami thinks that’s too crude to relay over the comms, though.

“K1 to Y1, Princess is secured. Over.”

I just wanted to be kidnapped by a person who is obsessively in love with me.

PROM NIGHT

uh.... bestie oikawa imagine ig. pls send me asks guys, i'm actually hyper-fixated on writing rn for some reason.

CW: implied non con, date rape, *ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+*

You and childhood best friend Oikawa promise at the beginning of high school that if neither one of you have a date for your senior prom you’ll take each other.

You didn’t think he was being serious. He was constantly being swarmed by girls, there was no way he wouldn’t be asked by someone. And yet, May of your senior year rolls around and miraculously Oikawa hasn’t received a single invite. You haven’t either, but you’d expected that. For some reason, guys never stayed interested in you for very long. Oikawa said it's because guys don't like girls with hotter guy best friends.

You loved Tooru like a brother, but man was he annoying sometimes.

You didn’t even remember making the promise to him, so when Iwaizumi brought you into the gym and you were greeted by the volleyball team holding painted volleyballs spelling out the word “PROM?” - Tooru standing in the middle holding a big bouquet of your favorite flowers and smiling like a dope - suffice to say, you were confused.

Of course you said yes. You didn’t want to humiliate him in front of his teammates, that would be cruel, so you swallowed your discomfort and put on a grin - accepting the flowers and Toorus hug as his team cheered.

He drove you home after practice that night, explaining his reasoning behind asking you. Something still felt weird about it, though. There was no way nobody had asked him yet. He was the school's star athlete, he had a fan club of women who would give their right kidney to be his date - you’ve heard girls gossiping about who he might be going with or how they would go about asking him. Why wasn’t he taking one of them? Why you?

You don’t want to seem ungrateful. The gesture had been sweet, and he might have just felt bad for you and decided to do you a solid. You decide to write it off as good intentions but make it very clear that the two of you are going as friends.

Tooru smiled, assuring you that he understood.

Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right about this.

He’s extra clingy the next few weeks. You rarely get a minute to yourself, wherever you are he somehow manages to show up - wrapping his arm around you like you’re his property. He also won’t shut up about how the two of you are going to prom together. It only took about a day for everybody to start stopping you in the hallway, asking you all sorts of questions. How did he ask you? What dress are you wearing? Are you and him dating?

You have to admit, it’s getting on your nerves - but Tooru loves the attention. He’s more than happy to tell everybody all about the little agreement you made freshman year and how you’d been so surprised when he asked you. You tried to just grit your teeth and bear it but it was getting hard, especially since you were now the subject of his jealous fan clubs gossip.

Weeks passed quickly and the big day finally came. Your mother fussed over you, lacing up the gorgeous blue evening dress that you’d picked out (with Oikawas help of course). She was finishing up curling your hair when the doorbell rang. You know you should be excited to see him - to spend the night you’d been waiting years for with your best friend - but a pit of dread sits in your stomach. It follows you down the stairs when you greet Oikawa and his mother.

His mother gushes over you in the way that older women do. Remarking that she could remember making cookies for you and Tooru on your first day of kindergarten and that you two grew up too fast. Tooru just stares at you while his mom prattles on - his jaw dropped at the sight of you. It might have made you blush if it weren't for the look in his eyes - hungry like you were something he wanted to devour. He takes your hand to help you down the last few steps - pushing a few loose hairs behind your ear and leaving a kiss on your cheek, leaning toward your ear to tell you that you look beautiful.

It doesn't feel very platonic but you aren't given enough time to harp on it as your mothers usher you outside to take pictures. The pictures were very uncomfortable. Oikawa kept putting his hands far too low on your back for your liking. You smiled through it though, telling yourself that you were just being silly. This was Tooru - your best friend since you were in diapers. He'd never do something that would make you uncomfortable on purpose, right?

Soon enough, it's time to go. The two of you say your goodbyes and hop into Oikawa's car to go to the venue. The drive there is normal enough. You take turns blasting your favorite music, roasting each other's taste in songs, and placing bets on who in your grade would arrive at the dance the most drunk. For a moment, things feel normal. Just you and Oikawa hanging out...

But then you get to the venue.

Almost immediately his demeanor shifts. He's all over you - slinging his arm around your waist possessively, guiding you around the building as if you'll get lost without him at your hip - When you stand up to get something to drink, he goes with you. When he walks over to talk to the rest of the volleyball seniors he insists you come with him. He's always within arms reach on the dance floor, keeping an eye out for any other men who might try to steal you away from him. You can't even speak to your female friends without him hovering over you. It's suffocating, but whats even worse is the touching.

He gets more and more handsy as the night goes on. An innocent arm around your waist turns into a hand groping your ass, during dinner, his hand rests on your thigh for the entirety of the meal, and you don't miss how close he gets to you while you dance - finding every excuse to roll his hips against your ass or nuzzle into the crook of your neck.

By the end of the night, you're exhausted, uncomfortable, and want nothing more than to go home, lie down, and sleep for at least twelve hours. You find out that Oikawa has other plans, however, when he passes the turn back to your house.

Apparently, he heard from Iwaizumi that Fukurodani High School's prom was the same night as yours and that Bokuto Koutaro was throwing a massive after-party. You try to convince him to turn around and take you home, tell him that you're tired and won't be any fun at the party anyway but he won't hear it - he tells you that once you have a couple drinks in you you'll change your mind.

The party is loud, hot, and incredibly overstimulating. The smell of beer assaults your nose the minute you walk in the door, EDM blares from speakers making your ears ring and there is physically not enough space for you to get away from Oikawa. You feel incredibly claustrophobic as Oikawa pulls you through the crowd, wiggling past grinding couples and people taking shots to eventually make your way over to a guy with spiky white-grey hair. He absolutely reeked of weed. He greeted Oikawa like an old friend and Tooru introduced him to you as Bokuto. The stoned man smirked at you, commenting that you must feel pretty lucky to have snagged a pretty boy like Oikawa, cautioning you to keep him away from the other girls.

Oikawa rolls his eyes but doesn't make any effort to correct him.

Bokuto hands Oikawa two beers, mumbling something to him that you can't quite make out through the loud music. You manage to pick up something about a guest bedroom upstairs and to be out by five am.

It doesn't sit well in your stomach.

Bokuto tells you to enjoy the rest of the party with a wink. You don't have time to reply before Oikawa drags you back into the crowd.

He cracks open your beer and holds it out to you, prompting you to take a sip as he drinks from his own. You try to protest but he's insistent, promising that it'll help you loosen up.

So despite your better judgment, you take a big gulp.

Oikawa takes you out to the dance floor, dancing against you to some Kanye West song that you all of the sudden... cant really... remember the name of...

The room starts spinning and you feel yourself fall into Oikawas arms. After that things are a blur. You think that he carries you up a flight of stairs, and you think you end up on a bed because you can feel the sheets against your skin. The bed might have dipped underneath Oikawas weight as he crawled on top of you and he probably touched you in ways you'd rather not think about.

The last thing you truly remember from your Prom night - the night you'd dreamt of since you were a little girl, the night that was supposed to be spent celebrating with your friends, the last big party before you had to start being an adult - is what he growled in your ear as his hand snaked down between your thighs.

"I've been waiting for this for four fucking years baby."

Bathtub sex with your husband because he was suddenly all petty and jealous with your servants helping you bathe.

CW: NSFW, slight yandere, GN Reader

Your husband had always been an understanding man, he thought with a cool head and logic all the time. He would never get jealous of his love rivals, reasoning he was way better of an option than they would ever be.

Yes, he was not arrogant but he knew his own self-worth. He knew he had always been the best for you.

So why did he suddenly insisted on helping you bathe?

“Dear, did you mean bathing with me or did I hear you wrong?” You stood next to him as he prepared the water for you. The scent he chose had always been floral, something that smelled innocent in a sense.

Your husband shook his face as he felt the temperature of the water. It welcomed him warmly, assuring him that it was the perfect temperature for you to relax already. Yulian beckoned you to enter the bathtub and so you did.

He pushed a cart of bathroom amenities, the aromatherapy candles all lit to light the room enough for as he switched the lights off.

You sighed at the sensation, slowly melting into one with the water. Yulian sat by the tub, his hands slowly massaging your tense shoulders as he hummed a lullaby for you.

“How lucky are the servants who help you bathe to see you like this every day.” He whispered into your ears as you giggled.

“Are you envious of them?”

Yulian stayed silent for a moment as he poured water over your head, “Recently,” he spoke as he poured the ointment into his hands, “I’ve been seeing lots of divorce trials.”

You hummed at his reply, leaning into his hands massaging your scalp, “And?”

“Most of them come from… affairs.”

You raised one of your eyebrows at the mention of affair, “Are you saying I might be cheating with one of my servants dear?”

“Not really,” Yulian now focused back on massaging your shoulders again, “but I can't help but be bothered by the fact that one of your servants might be admiring you, enchanted by you.”

His face inched closer to yours now, “And while they are at it, they can freely see and feel your body…” his hands slowly felt your arms up and down, “and be around you every day, helping you dress, attending all your needs while I'm away.”

You've never seen your husband act like this before. This was the first time he had shown his jealousy blatantly.

Yulian started pressing chaste kisses on the back of your neck, his grips remained on your arms. You squirmed as his hands snaked further into your nipples.

“It's so unfair, I'm your husband and yet they get to see you so vulnerable more often than I would ever be.”

What was once a chaste kiss soon turned into hickeys, purple decorating you from the back of your neck to your collarbone. You recognized this gesture as his way of showing his pettiness.

“So today,” his fingers tweaked your nipples as he kissed your earlobe, “can I show you just how much I love and adore every bits of you?”

—

The two of you were connected in the bathtub, his cock throbbed as its snug inside of you. How many times had he cum so early yet still had the strength to continue? You knew your husband couldn't last long but that didn't mean his stamina was to be doubted.

His precision in hitting your sweet spot had always been pitch-perfect. It never failed to make you squeal and tighten around him, pushing him closer to yet another orgasm.

Yulian hid his face in the crook of your neck, trying his best to not bite into your flesh, and opted to bite his lip until he tasted steel instead.

You moaned out his name as you felt like you were about to reach yet another orgasm as well. Your hand intertwined with his, you turned back to kiss him, tasting his blood while at it.

“So close… together?”

Yulian’s cock throbbed at the mention of it before he nodded along, “I-I’ll try.”

Yulian lifted you from his lap and positioned you to lean onto the wall before he continued ramming into you like a starving man. Nonetheless, he still made sure to prioritize your pleasure as well instead of being selfish and chasing his own release.

Your knees wobbled and you felt really weak yet his strong grip wouldn't let you slide down, at least not until you two were done.

Ragged breath and breathy groans, the bathroom smelled like sex instead of florals. The whole candles flickered with each thrust he made and the water rippled with every shake your legs made.

It didn't take so long for you two to come in unison. The bath water that was once pristine and clean was soon mixed with both of your bodily fluids. Your insides felt warm the moment he came inside you again.

Your knees slowly gave up as the two of you slowly collected your composure. Yulian’s hands never let you go as he slowly lowered you into his embrace again.

He started peppering your face with kisses again, his fingers ran over all the hickeys he had left all over you, some were in a very visible place.

“How am I supposed to cover all of these dear?” you pouted at him as you pushed his face away from you playfully.

Yulian raised his eyebrows before answering you, “You don't cover them dear.”

More Ideas for KNY (demon slayer) different characters ♡ (SOME NSFW CONTENT FOR SANEMI AND MUZAN AND MENTIONS OF GORE IN SANEMI AND LIGHT NSFW IN GYOMEI)

<- Part 1

Imagine being dangerously in love.

Imagine being a demon, obsessed with the brash, and blood thirst Wind Hashira. the first time ever being in battle with him is what leads you down a path of want and lust for the cruel hashira.

Imagine going out of your way to always be where he is, always catching his attention and being attacked by him. He believes you're mocking him, following him just to show off that he hasn't been able to kill you. But that isn't true at all. When you fight, you never actively try and gut him, only blocking your neck and leaving the rest of your limbs exposed to be lashed in this masochism tango.

Imagine struggling to hide your enjoyment and ecstacy each time his sword ripped, teard, and scar your body. He had to have known how me made you feel. He must. The darkness of your cheeks must've been a giveaway. Right? His eyes bewitching you in how intense he glares into your soul. It sets a fire under your cold skin, a burning desire.

Imagine one time when you and Sanemi are fighting. Other slayers show up. But they don't instantly jump into the fight. 1. from looking at the fight, you hadn't landed a single strike and seemed to be a greater deal slower than the hashira, and 2. Tanjiro made an odd comment. "Huh, it's like she's avoiding striking him on purpose."

Imagine how Shinobu decided the fight was long enough and tried to sneak in and end the fight. Only for a switch to set off and catch her off guard and spin at the speed of light, leaving a large gash across her body from her left founder to her hip. And Sanemi instantly tried to help her. Only to be stopped by your own weapon pressed so close to his neck that even swallowing made his Adamsapple scrape against a sharp blade. "Don't you dare. Your attention is meant for me. Are you seriously letting her attempt to get between us work?" And that made Sanemi pause... "us? Wha-" -- "don't play dumb darling. We're soulmates, Sanemi~" you whisper to him. "What the fuck."

Imagine how now you make him feel so conflicted, how he hates you for what you are but loves you for how you make him feel... in his home in his spare time as the sun rises, his windows covered and locked tight as he has you on your knees, leaning forward and his chest pressed to your back. Your head locked between his bicep as his other hand held his sword under you. It nicks you each time he thrusts. If he pushed you forward anymore, his blade would surely cut your chest and stomach open. "I HATE YOU, YOU FILTHY DEMON. I DONT WANT YOU. CURSE YOU FOR DEMONIC TEMPTATION." You softy cry at the harsh words from your love, "I don't care if you don't want me... I'm yours right now..."

Sanemi Shinazugawa × Demon reader Trope: Yandere Lovesick/I hate you so much I love you.

Imagine being with Muzan his entire life... your family were servants to his family. And from a young age, you were assigned to be Muzans personal maid or companion as you were too young to really do any work than cleaning up his room. But since you can remember, you've always been with Muzan.

Imagine being the one he confides with most. His fears, his wishes, and despite his coldness. His shouldering eyes seemed to be less scorching when it came to you. His one and only friend. Even if you didn't have much of a choice in the companionship. It was you who sat in on his doctor's visits about his deteriorating health. When he got the news of how it would be a miracle for him to even make it to his mid 20s...

Imagine how one night after a particularly scary coughing fit, he simply places his head to your mid section as you blush his hair and pull it back into a braid. He softy thanks you as he tilts his head to look up at you, "Of course, I'm always happy to take care of you." But that isn't want he wants. He wanted to take care of you. Not you to him. And without thinking, he pulls you down to him.

Imagine His heat is pounding in his chest. You lay across him as his long and slim fingers tease you between your legs. You try and stay quiet, your face twisted with pleasure and guilt. You felt like you were taking advantage of the sick man who would never find love or feel the love of another in such a romantic and intimate way. You thought maybe that this was him just grasping for a moment where he didn't feel so useless being bedridden. But it was so much more. If this was the last thing he did, pleasing the only one who he cared for most. The one he wished he could've married... he would be happy to die. This surely isn't good for his heart, but he couldn't care less. You hovering yourself above him. As he tried weakly to pull you in to rest your whole weight. This was how he wanted to spend his last days, weeks, and months. However long he had left. He wanted it to be with you.

Imagine as days go by, and he feels more and more guilty. He starts to feel as though you let him do these things because you feel obligated as his personal maid to do so. Nights in the dark ask he fingers you, giving and receiving oral pleasure. But you still won't give him everything. You refuse to fully lay with him. Sometimes, he feels like it's because you don't really love him. Not like he does you. Or maybe you find him... pathetic... he can't actually make love to you. You'd be doing all the work. He doesn't want that, and it seems you don't either... eventually, his thoughts become too much, and he decides to let you go...

Imagine you were relieved of all your maid duties, not just to Muzan but to the family as a whole. You were heartbroken. And the heartbreak only worsened at the news of Muzan and his families and your families deaths. You'd cried more times than you'd ever had before in your life. And you were so very confused when you'd found a Man who looked exactly like Muzan sitting in your bed a few nights later. "Hello dear. I'm home." He invented to truly give you what you wanted, and he was eager to give it too you.

Muzan Kibutsuji × reader Trope: Unrequited/reunited love/soulmates

Imagine being Master Kagaya's faithful slayer, you'd always admired him. You and your Master had created a strong bond. Stronger than others. Moments like this reminded you that you were special. You sat on your knees as you just like you had the first time. Your head pressed to his chest and he dragged his fingers over your head.

Imagine trying not to tear up as you remember the first time you'd kneeled for him. You'd been reckless and impatient leading to a fellow slayer getting extremely hurt. You kneeled before him as you sat in the room alone waiting for him to speak. Doing your best to not make any noise as you silently cry. You'd failed him. Your beloved Master. But he didn't yell. He didn't make you feel like you were a problem. He merely hummed before knealing with you, one hand on atop your head and the other cupping your cheek feeling the wet stream of tears and wiped it away. "It's alright. You didn't mean for this to happen. I know you didn't. I know you're a good girl." And your breath hitched. He noticed. And from then on he gave you positive affrimations which encouraged you to do better. For him.

Imagine how as you sat there listening to his words letting yourself flow away and melt into your master. He thought it was innocent. He was simply your master helping you, if it wasn't him maybe you'd find these soft words from Gyomei or maybe even Kyojuro... but he was wrong. So wrong. It was him. Only him. You'd put yourself on the line so much more than you should've. All to hear those soft praises. His wife must not like you... you do take up more and more of his time as days go on...

Imagine how he softly calls to you. Late that night, he'd heard your footsteps. He sat with you talking. About anything that day. Soft and short conversations. Quiet but not uncomfortable. "You're my favorite you know." He sighed, before he let out a small chuckle "don't tell the others." You know he was teasing. But your heart told you other wise.

Imagine being hurt. In battle you were hurt. But even in your pain you still made your way to your master... your beautiful Kagaya... the married man, the family man, that you had fallen in love with. "My dear, you still come and see me while you're in such pain?" He seemed shocked. But you aren't sure why, you'd walk on hot coles and crawled on your hands and belly to kneel for him. You'd do anything for your master. And you could only hope as his favorite... you wouldn't let him down. Finally you lifted your head from his chest, pulling his hands from your hands, leaving a kiss to his knuckles. One day. One day you'll have him.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki × Slayer reader Trope: unrequited love/lovesick/slow burn

Special Part two of Forbidden love with Gyomei × demon

Imagine how the rest of the slayers flock around Gyomei, asking him so many questions. And he couldn't even answer them all. Too consumed by his disbelief that the person he'd fallen in love with so deeply, had turned out to be a demon.

Imagine how he layed in bed lonely and... missing you. He began to long of your cold touch, your voice, your laugh that was so contagious to him. He missed you. He'd fallen for you. Demon or not. He laid in his bed trying and failing to get even a wink of sleep. But just as he had almost fallen asleep he was awoken by a sound. 'Tap tap' was the sound, 'tap tap' on his window. "Gyomei... my love..."

Imagine how he practically leaped from his bed. Demon or not you had carved yourself a spot in his heart. Slamming open the window and pulling you inside, his hands instantly feeling over your cheeks, your nose, your neck. Kissing the knuckles of your cold hands.

Imagine being the one that made Gyomei for a moment stay from his faiths. Gyomei devoted his life to his beliefs, that includes waiting. Waited all his life for the one. Saving himself and waiting. But you both were in a unique circumstances... so from that point on Gyomei promised himself to you. You would stay with him in his home and he would always come back to you. That night he would kiss you, love you, lay you under him while he whispered for you to be his.

—a holy knight, defiled

note: idk, was in a dragon mood sooo…some quick notes. keep in mind that I am trying my best to be very vague on the reader’s body type because 1, i love you all and i think all of you are very cute no matter your appearances, and 2, muscles comes in all forms and can be hidden behind fats. anyway, i’m sorry this is late, short and hellva rushed, def v far from being my best work. heck, i kinda hate this one but yall had been waiting for legit months so i couldn’t just scrap it. writing isn’t very easy thing for me to do these days…sighs. still, hope yall liked it some?

→summary: you, a valiant knight, lied beneath your greatest foe yet and the grinning serpent was pleased with its prize. →rating: explicitly noncon →pairing: dragon / older?afab!reader  →warnings: noncon, (minor) injuries →kinks / tags: tongue job / oral, size difference, virginity, big dick / monster dick, two dicks, anal, stomach deformation, knotting, piv, mindbreak, teratophilia, exophilia →word count: 2.7k, unedited minors dni.

image source | adal.fyre

—all rights reserved to @monstrouslyobsessed​

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✤ FOREIGN AFFAIRS ✤

AN: So this is a fic that literally nobody asked for but I've had it in my drafts forever and I thought it would be a shame to waste the idea. Whoops. Enjoy. CW: Non-Con, Cunnilingus, Brief mentions of spitting in mouth and spanking, Threat of pregnancy, Sort of implied American reader but you could read it as any english speaking country, though there is a dig in there that is pretty much aimed at Americans,

It’s hard being a foreigner in a country where you can’t speak a word of the language, harder than you’d expected when your job asked you to move halfway across the world.

Getting around is tough and it’s hard to remember all of the customs and formalities, but the worst part about living so far from home is how lonely it is.

At the beginning, you spent most nights curled up in your tiny apartment, crying and checking the time difference between where you are and home to see if it would be ok to call your parents. Things haven’t changed much since then. You know a little more of the language but you still haven't made any friends.

Well, except for your hot landlord who lives next door. 

He doesn’t speak a lick of english, but you don’t need to speak the same language to fuck.

You aren’t quite sure how your arrangement came to be. One minute you were handing him rent money and the next he was lapping at your cunt like a starved man. It doesn’t matter. You're content knowing that if he’s waiting on the staircase when you get home from work, it’s going to be a good night.

He’ll pull you down the hall, hands tangling in your hair and lips crashing against yours, fumbling clumsily with his keys to unlock the door to his apartment, all but kicking the door open and carrying you inside.

His kisses are hungry, greedy. Filled with a passion that you’ve never felt with boys back home. Maybe it’s just the fantasy-fulfillment aspect of having a hot foreign lover, but if he’s anything to go by, the rumors of men overseas being better at sex are definitely true.

Before you can even make it into the bedroom, your clothes are peeled off and shed on his kitchen floor. He's all over you the minute you’re naked, grabbing and touching you like he wants to commit the feeling to memory, worshiping every nook and cranny like he may never feel you again. 

You and him will somehow stumble into his bed in between hot kisses. Sometimes he’ll chase you playfully, sometimes he’ll lead you by the hand, sometimes he’ll scoop you up and throw you onto the mattress; mumbling something in his language that you don’t understand but sounds pretty hot regardless. 

Then he’ll climb on top of you and take you apart piece by piece. Suckling gently on your nipples while his fingers work your clit, nibbling little love bites on your thighs before lifting your hips so he can bury his face in your cunt, pressing teasing kisses down your body, mumbling what you assume to be praise of your figure in between each one. 

He just understands your body. He's attentive, a quick learner. It only took about a week of sleeping together for him to know exactly how to unravel you. He’s a generous lover. You’ve never slept with him without orgasming at least once. You’ve never had to fake an orgasm either, which is a massive improvement from the past men you’ve been with. 

It's not lost on you that the way he treats you is kind of strange for a fuck-buddy...

...But damn if it isn’t hot when he gets down on his knees and mumbles a prayer of adoration into your stomach.

Once it’s his turn to receive it can go one of two ways:

He’ll either be gentle, caressing you like fine china as he rolls his hips into yours, making love to you slowly, reverently, using your moans as a guide on how to touch you. He’ll cum with you, holding your hand as you both tumble over the edge, then pull you into his chest as the two of you come down and prepare for round two, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

Or he’ll be rough and relentless. Pounding into you unforgivingly, tossing you into whatever position he pleases before fucking you hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. He’s quite kinky, you’ve learned. When he’s in these moods he likes spitting in your mouth and pulling your hair, calling you filthy names as you cum for the third time.

You’ve learned a few new words in his language since you met him: faster, slower, slut, fuck, and I’m going to cum.

Not very practical for day to day use but still nice to know.

Once the two of you are spent, you’ll shower and he’ll pour you a glass of wine, then you'll sit on his small balcony in silence, looking out at the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. 

It’s…nice. Peaceful. It’s strange that you feel so intimate with him when the only real conversation you’ve ever had was a google translated text message about rent. 

But just like any good drama with a foreign fling, it can't last forever. 

As great as he is in bed, this country isn’t your home. You miss your family and friends and being able to ask for directions without feeling like an idiot. You’ll miss him—no doubt lie in bed sometimes and wonder what he’s doing, if he still thinks of you—but it’s better this way. You don’t belong here, you never have.

You’re sitting on his balcony basking in afterglow about three weeks before you’re set to leave when you drop the news. It’s better sooner rather than later, you decide. It’s not like you could irish-goodbye him, he is your landlord.

“Leaving…” his brow knits. He says it like the word tastes sour in his mouth.

“Yeah, in three weeks.” you smile, holding up three fingers for clarification.

He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray, shaking his head and mumbling something that you can’t understand. He looks…distressed. You hadn’t expected him to be thrilled by the news, but he looks like someone just punched him in the gut.

“Are you alri-”

“You aren’t leaving me.” he snaps, grabbing your wrist hard. Possessively, as if he’s nervous you might run away from him.

You're surprised by his hostility, but more so by the response he gave you. It was heavily accented and short, but it was grammatically correct English—something he’d never given any indication of knowing. 

“What are you-” 

You're cut off by a searing hot kiss. Ravenous and passionate, full of teeth and tongue—but not in the way they normally are. This one is… darker, like he’s trying to establish his dominance.

You squirm and try to push him off of you but he won’t let you go, fisting a hand in your hair to hold you in place as his mouth claims yours.

“Did we mean nothing?” he asks, backing you against the wall, pinning your wrists above your head, “We’ve been making love for months and you want to leave?”

“English…” your eyes tear up as he nips at your neck, “I thought you…”

“I’ve known it the whole time,” he lets out a small laugh of amusement. “They teach us English in school. We actually have good education here.” You cry, feeling his hot breath on your skin as he alternates between making out and nibbling at your neck, “I thought you'd think it was romantic, having a foreign lover.”

Each kiss steals your breath, makes you dizzy. He licks his lips, eying you hungrily, “I was going to pretend to learn english for you. I thought it would be a cute story to tell our children…”

Your eyes widen. Children? He wants to have kids-

Your thoughts are interrupted by him rising to his feet, hoisting you up with him and walking you to his bed. He tosses you on the mattress, climbing on top of you, hissing something quietly in his language that you don’t understand as he rocks his hard erection against your thigh.

“You aren’t leaving.” he growls, “I’ll handcuff you to this damn bed if I have to. There is nothing where you came from that you don’t have here”

You writhe as he kisses down your torso, bucking and squirming, trying to push him off of you. He tugs your hips down with a growl, sinking his fingers into the squishy flesh to keep you from moving. 

“P-please…” streams of tears roll down your cheeks as he tugs down your pants, “M-my home… My family.”

“This is your home now,” he growls, holding you down with one hand, fumbling with his pants with the other, taking out his hard penis.

He chuckles to himself in amusement and lines up with your hole, murmuring the next part in against your swollen lips as he pushes himself in.

“And I’m gonna make you a brand new family tonight.”

You once heard that foreign men are better lovers. 

Guess it depends on which one you run into.

suguru geto, satoru gojo, levi ackerman, eren jaeger, bakugo katsuki, keigo takami, shouto todoroki, atsumu miya, osamu miya, tooru oikawa, kuroo tetsuro, kiyomi sakusa, keishin ukai, cameron beck