Good For Him

dryhumping with takuma, i need it my wife

i need it please im begging you

"babe, i can't ruin these pants i just washed them."

takuma keeps whining as if he isn't the one on top of you, rutting against you fully clothed. he's peppering kisses all over your face, moaning against your ear, just to complain some more.

"i have nothing else to change into, can't—god—can't cum like this."

you can feel the hard ridge of his cock pulsing against your heat even through both of your clothes. he's biting down on his lip in this awkward desperation that makes you only want to buck your hips up against his even more than you already are.

"then take them off and fuck me, takuma," you try, but he's shaking his head like he's already weighed the pros and cons of doing so.

"can't stop," he sounds like he's tearing up. "feels too good, can't stop to undress, baby, need you now."

fingers dig into your hips as he pulls you up to press even harder against his constrained cock. he's rutting against you like he's in heat, rolling his hips and hissing our harsh noises of pleasure with each and every single movement.

it's not like you can blame him—you'd probably cry if he stopped now to undress the both of you, even if him finally sinking into you would feel like heaven. the pressure against your clit is ungodly, just a little longer and—

"fuuuck, holy fuck, nevermind im cumming," takuma is screwing his eyes shut and stalling his own mind by pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss that send you over the edge as well. you can feel him tense, his dick throbbing against your clothed core as he spills into his pants in concert with your own orgasm.

"worth it."

it must've been like a punch to the gut when ekko saw powder from this:

to this:

Viktor would 100% love you on top of him, but he would also enjoy rutting into you while you’re on top.

Imagine you both had a long day and needed to let off some steam, so you do your usual routine and you’re on top of him once again. You roll your hips slowly, carefully bouncing up and down on him.

Viktor’s eyes water at the sensation, whimpering at the feeling of you squeezing him. His eyes meet your own and you lean down to kiss him, losing momentum. Suddenly, you feel a thrust come upward from him, causing you to pull away from his lips as it caught you off guard. It felt great, but you worried it world put a strain on him. “Vik’, let me take care of you.”

He shakes his head, “need more..” he pulls you back down to his lips and begins thrusting into you at a quicker, yet deeper pace. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling. Viktor moans into your ear and lays kisses on your lobe, down your neck. You clench around him, signaling you’re close.

Viktor puts his hands on your hips, thrusting deeper than before causing you to moan louder, echoing through the room. “Cumming.. mmf..” Viktor’s grip on your hips slams you down once more, both of you cumming at the same time. You both lay, catching breaths for a moment.

Getting the strength back, you lean up to look at him. “That was different.” You say, chuckling. Viktor’s face flushed as he looked away from you, “s-sorry, I just feel bad making you do the work, you deserve to feel good too.” You roll your eyes and kiss his cheek, “Vik, if you think you don’t make me feel good, you’re crazy. This was nice though.” He nods.

“I’ll make a note to do it again, just for you.”

hi!!!! so i absolutely adore ur writing and was wondering if you could do angst. idk if this is up your alley or anything but if it’s not you don’t have to write it dw abt it!

so basically vox x reader

reader is really sad bc something happened and just isn’t in the mood for vox when he comes home from work. so vox being himself is annoying and instead of reader being mad or even like having a reaction (she’s usually a dom btw) she just like breaks down. ik this is a little random but i think it’s a pretty cute idea. have a nice day/night xxx

a/n — I had a TERRIBLE day so here’s this hurt/comfort fic to cope.

Vox’s shit-eating grin slowly faltered before completing dropping as he took in the situation. He barely even remembered what he’d said but, obviously, you didn’t take it well.

He felt a pang of guilt as he looked at you on the couch, crying into your hands. He knew you were in a bad mood when he got home. Of course, he didn’t know just how bad of a mood.

He saw your irritation right off that bat, he had asked what was wrong and you had brushed him off, snapping at him slightly. 

That’s about when Vox had decided to escalate the situation. Throwing annoying taunts at you, teasing you, begging for you to do something about it.

Of course he wanted a reaction, but more on the lines of you slamming him against a wall and putting him in his place. Under no circumstances did he think you would start crying.

And yet, here you were, crying into your hands on the couch, over some bratty remark Vox had made.

“I— uh, my dear, I didn’t mean anything—“ he tried to clarify, stretching his arm slightly out as if to touch you. He wasn’t sure what to do.

“Shut up, Vox,” you cried, “Don’t you know when to shut up?” Your words weren’t laced with venom or overly angry liked he’d expected. In fact, that would have been better.

In contrast to your usual nature, you just seemed overall sad. More than sad, Vox thought, totally spent. 

It was no secret he was terrible at comforting people, giving people false hope and manipulating them into doing something for him, sure. But this?

Well, convincing someone they feel better and actually making someone feel better were incredibly different. He was totally lost.

Your sobs got louder and more violent as moments passed. And yet, he stood there like an idiot, giving you a blank stare.

As if going through the motions, he recites a list in his mind. What to people usually do to help someone when they’re crying? Maybe, give them a hug?

He sighed and sat down next to you on the couch, cautiously putting his hand your shoulder and rubbing gently. 

Apologize next, Vox’s mental list demanded. 

“Look,” he started, awkwardly fiddling with his collar, “I didn’t mean to bother you by giving you all that shit. I knew you weren’t in the mood I just—“ 

He struggled with the next part, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

The strange thing is, he really really meant it. Usually, an apology for Vox was one step further in getting what he wanted all along. However, this time the fact he made you cry actually erked him like nothing else before.

He apologized solely because he wanted you to feel better.

“I’m just not in the mood for your shit, Vox,” you  answer, choked out and muffled as you wipe the tears from your face. 

“I know. Well, now I do.” He went over his metal list once more, “So what’s got you so out of sorts this evening, my dear?”

“I’ve just—“ you sniff, trying to take in your thoughts, “—I’ve had a long day.”

“I’m all ears,” he answers immediately. If there’s one thing Vox was good at, it was listening.

You rant to him about the mishaps of the day, how fed up you were with so-and-so, how tired you were of life being so hard.

The entire time, Vox listened, plotting the perfect reply out in his mind, and checking off boxes on his list.

“Well, it’s over now, your home. And I won’t be an asshole anymore,” He says, earning a raised eyebrow from you. 

“I’ll try not to be an asshole anymore,” he corrects, provoking a small but noticeable smile out of you. He rewards himself, internally.

Hug them, he told himself. 

He moved closer to you and hesitantly wrapped his arms around your stomach, rubbing your back gently. To his delight, you ease into the hug, arms looping around his neck as you recovered from your breakdown.

“You’re so not getting laid tonight, by the way,” you joke, still in the hug.

“Yes, my dear. Unfortunately, I figured.” he sighed and continued rubbing your back.

“Do you wanna go watch TV upstairs?” you inquire.

“Always,” he grinned.

“Do you wanna keeping hugging while we do that,” you ask, genuinely curious.

His smile softened, “always.”

a/n — and then the next day you railed him into a mattress until he was crying harder than you ever were. The end.

God I love your little extended universe of Vox and the reader it's so damn good-- I have a little folder on my phone with a bunch of your work saved for later. It's like a treat

I do agree that Bad Liar seems to be at a nice enough conclusion BUT I second that anon asking for the "fucking Vox so Val can hear" fic. Petty dom reader with her prize.

-🐭

a/n — Long awaited fic incoming! It’s been like three weeks… jesus.

summary — Reader fucks a very vocal Vox in Val’s porn studio, mainly to be petty because you all can make Vox feel 100x better.

warnings — Smut, pegging, afab reader implied, aka use of a strap on, very self indulgent, small use of ‘mommy’, even smaller use of ‘y/n

Vox was loud, in and out of bed. You knew that all too well. That’s what, in hindsight, made this whole situation a bad idea.

You were in a backroom of Val’s studio. At first the intention was only to visit Vox during work. However, you did have the strap in your bag and he looked so damn good in his suit. 

To sum up, you couldn’t resist. Pulling him off to subsection of the porn studio, not even bothering to close the door all the way, and bending him over a table to fuck him relentlessly. 

At first he argued, telling you he had to get back to work. But it didn’t take much convincing to get him to take a ‘quick’ break. 

His pants were off, leaving his ass and dick fully exposed to you, but aside from his suit jacket and vest, his button up was still on. His tie was undone, however, and his shirt was only hanging on by three buttons.

“Quiet, Vox. What would anyone say if they saw you like this?” You coo down at him, thrusting deeper into his ass.

He whines loudly at your words, completely disregarding the actual order behind them.

“It’s hard to be quiet when yo—ouz—u’re doing that with your hips—szz—“ He tries to remain coherent, but it didn’t take much for your rhythm to affect his system.

You roll your eyes, leaning in closer and covering his mouth with your hand, rolling your hips once more. He whimpers.

“If you don’t start controlling your volume soon, Vox, I’m gonna have to stop. Got that?” You whisper, cruelly.

He whines, quieter this time, and nods his head. “Good boy,” you praise, grasping his hips harder.

That almost got him to break him promise immediately. He whimpered pathetically and arched back further into you.

“Good, baby. Doing so good, taking orders so well,” You breathe, finding a steady pace to fuck him.

Once again, he whines quietly and mutters something under his breath. You didn’t pick up on it, instead catching a glimpse of something by the doorway, moving in the corner of your eye.

You don’t turn your head fully, instead sparing an unintentional looking glance towards the door. Vox hadn’t noticed, too busy focusing on the dick up his ass. 

You noticed though. And god, it took everything in you not to turn over to the figure and flash a proud smile. No, no, you had to go about this right. It had to be slick.

“Vox, sweetheart, I changed my mind. Be as loud as you want,” you say sweetly, picking up the pace and starting to go faster. 

He whines and glitches out a small, “Yes, f—ffc—fuck. Thank you.” 

You can’t tell if the figure is still there, but you feel a presence around you. And it wasn’t exactly out of character for Valentino to lurk. Fucking prick. You’ll show him, though.

Vox claws dig into the table as you rut into him roughly, still keeping a solid rhythm, but making it more aggressive. It’s an art after all, and you’re sure that damn moth knows. 

“Oh god—zzx— fuck, fuck,” Vox whines, clawing at the table desperately, leaving deep marks. 

That’s when you get an idea. All at once, you stop, and pull out.

“Fuck, why the f—ffz—fuck would you stop—“ Vox’s question is cut off when you flip him over quickly, hoist him up by his thighs, and slam him onto the nearest wall. 

You make sure the doorway has a clear shot of the scene. Not so slowly, you push your strap into Vox once more, he hisses and wraps his arms around your neck instinctively.

You thrust into him with force and, for lack of a better word, talented rhythm. Vox cries out, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, threatening to drip down him screen.

“Oh god, y/n—“ he moaned so loudly you were sure that half the studio could have heard, “y/n—zzf— Fuck. Deeper, fuck—“ 

His incoherent babbles only grew stronger as you planted kisses on his neck and bit down roughly. 

“My pretty boy,” You say, all too loudly, “Doing so good for me baby. Taking me so well.” 

At this point, the tears finally got the best of him, starting to dribble down his screen and he whined pathetically. The lights around you flickered, and you smirked to yourself.

A power outage? Aw, and maybe even during a filming session, how sad. Not really, though. Because Vox deserves to be treated like this, always. No exceptions. And you were doing your part to make sure everyone knew that. 

“You look so fucking stunning, sweetheart,” Vox’s claws scrapped up and down your back, leaving deep marks. 

You try not to hiss too loudly, “Aw, baby. Mommy making you feel that good?” 

He moans and lets out a sob as you fuck into him roughly, “Yes—szz— mommy, feels so good. Please ‘m—“

He cuts himself off by buffering in an almost violent sputter, sending a shock of electricity out. It shocks your body and fully cuts the lights off for a long moment. 

“Fuck,” you almost growl, “Your mine, Vox. You’re fucking mine.” 

Your rhythmic pace, if possible, becomes faster, shooting all the way up to his core. He whines at your comment, gripping onto you harder.

“Say it,” you hiss, nails digging into his hips, surely causing a bruise for tomorrow, “Tell everyone here who you belong to.”

You’re lucky he was so fucked out, because never in a million years would he normally admit to anything worded like that.  However, tonight you were doing an excellent job at fucking with his head.

“You, mommy—zzs— ‘m yours. ‘m yours,” he practically sobbed out. 

“Damn right,” you say lowly, finally sparing a glance to the seemingly empty doorway. No matter, you were sure people hallways down could hear these phrases clear as day. 

“Cum anytime you want baby—“ He didn’t hesitate to let go, sputtering out a mix of moans and malfunctions. 

With that, the power flashed one more time, before completely shutting off. Vox clings onto you for a few more moments, before you feel his body loosen. 

Still having a hold on his thighs, you pull out of him and access the damage. Just as you thought; total blue screen.

No matter, you’d clean up just fine. The feeling of self accomplishment totally overpowered the annoying process of getting him to turn back on. 

This feeling only gets better when you heard a foul shriek from down the hall in your direction. Already smiling, you couldn’t help but begin to laugh. 

You’d practically won. The power had gone out, prohibiting that perverted moth from filming anything, and at the same time stopped him from doing anything to distract himself from that loud pleasured noises Vox was making. 

But most of all, you treated Vox like the princess he is and took care of him well. And that, in a sense, was victory on its own. 

a/n — YIPPEE GUYS I FINALLY WROTE IT!!

one of the hottest things a man can do is feel a little guilty

My princess with a disorder🥹

Also heres the full list of maladies by popular request

talking to @minkdelovely about how we all are just so unhinged and I wanted to say that people are always so quick to be rude and jump to negative conclusions and bully people online because of the safety of anonymity

but my interactions with our little horny deer cult and larger tumblr HH community has been the opposite? The most unhinged kindness and praise and lifting up of people???

anyway here’s a thank you while I read your comments but don’t reply yet because I’m trying desperately to get the next part of A Doe in Fall out; I will reply though! 🙏

Untitled Rutting Alastor x fem bunny reader fic preview

warnings; breeding kink, pussy out and about, cum, kinda size kink, almost sorta degradation kink but honestly he’s stating facts

Bodyguard!Nanami Headcanons

Rating: Explicit (18+ only, Minors DNI)

Pairing: Nanami x F!Reader Cw: smut, p in v sex, masturbation, cunnilingus, mutual pining, mentions of violence, jealousy Wc: ~1K A/n: Just some Bodyguard!Nanami brainrot here folks. I'm slowly getting more practice writing for this absolute beast of a man. 💙

Bodyguard!Nanami is a professional that takes all of his contracts seriously. He's the best of the best when it comes to keeping people alive. Enlisted by a mysterious figure with a deep need for secrecy and an even deeper bank account, Nanami is assigned to you. His mission? To protect you using any means necessary.

Bodyguard!Nanami whose relationship with you starts out awkward and rocky. You're not in the market for a babysitter, and you certainly don't need this massive man looming over your shoulder day in and day out. But despite your protests, Nanami quietly does his job without fault, a protective presence that you find yourself getting used to--sometimes even craving.

Bodyguard!Nanami who sparks the curiosity and intrigue of those in your elite social circle. Wherever did you get such a handsome and loyal bulldog? Does he do tricks? Is he as ferocious as he appears? Will he really take a bullet for you? Does he fuck you as rigorously as he protects you?

Bodyguard!Nanami who senses your anger at their hungry stares and mockery of him, and grounds your piquant fury by resting a heavy hand on your shoulder. 'Let it be.'

Bodyguard!Nanami who two months into his contract realizes that he has his work cut out for him protecting you. With your fierce determination, dazzling intellect, and smart mouth there is very little that actually frightens you. And that frightens him.

Bodyguard!Nanami who honors his contract to the letter, putting himself in the line of fire to shield you from whatever threat comes your way. Imagine Nanami's surprise when it's you who ends up pushing him out of harm's way instead.

Bodyguard!Nanami who chastises you the moment he gets you alone for putting yourself at risk for his sake. It doesn't matter that he had a gun pointed to his head, above all else his job is to protect you.

Bodyguard!Nanami who initially, only touches you when necessary--pointedly ignoring the stinging bite of envy along his inner cheek when he sees your suitors' hands indulging in your soft curves so nonchalantly. Their fingers on yours, resting at the small of your back, brushing along your shoulder. It takes every once of restraint Nanami possesses to keep himself from ripping their arms out of their sockets.

Bodyguard!Nanami who takes solace in the fact that even though he's not considered your equal in your social circle, he's the one who knows you from the inside out. He's studied you each and every day, listened to your tipsy murmuring on those long, quiet night drives back home, felt your body melt into his whenever he carried you to your bed. Nanami knows the name of your childhood pet, recognizes the hidden tilt in your voice when you're discouraged, knows that your most favorite thing to do in the world is to try out new recipes with him on rainy Sunday mornings.

Bodyguard!Nanami who groans with pleasured frenzy in the shower as he fists his thick cock to the thought of you. Fantasizing about your body, your eyes, your smell, your taste--arching and coming to the dizzying thought of the sweet sounds you'd make under the rapture of his tongue. But he knows he can't touch you. You're his contract, not his lover.

Bodyguard!Nanami whose desire becomes more difficult to control and near impossible to hide with each passing day. His gaze follows you everywhere you go, drinking in your movement, holding you with his eyes. Nanami desperately wants to kiss you, feel you and fuck you until he can't tell where he ends and you begin. What would his pretty boss sound like coming on his tongue? He wonders.

Bodyguard!Nanami whose self-restraint snaps on that fateful afternoon when you prance out of your bedroom in that beautiful yellow sundress that he's imagined fucking you in countless times. Nanami is on you like a hurricane, pulling up your skirt and nearly tearing off your panties before eating your cunt like a man starved. Frenzied, your bodyguard pins you to the nearest surface and locks your hips in the crux of his strong arms. He delights in your excited moan, growling against your sensitive flesh, sucking and licking your folds and clit until they're twitching and swollen. Nanami won't rest until you're whimpering, trembling, and have drenched him down to his chest with your glistening arousal.

Bodyguard!Nanami who becomes addicted to your flavor, the scent of your sex, and the chorus of your pleasure. He'll eat you out whenever you'll let him but fucking you is a line he won't cross. He'd sever his arm before he'd sully your reputation in the service of his own desire.

Bodyguard!Nanami who never takes days off because a day away from you is nothing short of agony. It is only at your prolonged insistence that he takes some vacation time to go and visit his family out of town for a few days.

Bodyguard!Nanami who stifles his panic when he receives an emergency call on one of his rare days off that you'd been taken for ransom. The words 'she's gone' screeching in his eardrums as Nanami drops everything, immediately ending the call and opening the tracking app on his phone. He traces your last steps in a mad race against time to find you.

Bodyguard!Nanami who tears through an army to get to you, crushing every opponent that stands in his way with no mercy. Whatever their plan, whatever the weapons in their hands, in the end Nanami will always make it to you. Disheveled, panting, purple knuckled, and dripping crimson. The moment Nanami gets his hands on you he frees you from your bonds and holds you close, thanking every god he can think of by name. You're alive. You're alive and safe.

Bodyguard!Nanami who makes love to you that same night he thought he'd lost you forever. He meets you by moonlight, wordless confessions hanging heavy in the cool, blue air before the two of you melt into each another. Nanami strips you naked and worships you with his tongue, loving you tenderly with his lips, gently stretching you open on his girthy cock--wide and trembling and wanting just for him. With teeth on your throat, Nanami groans at the feeling of your sharp nails digging into his back, thrusting deeply into your eager little cunt that squeezes and milks him so affectionately with each surge forward. Swallowing your moans, Nanami paints and restores every line of your form with his reverent hands. All night long, your loyal bodyguard works diligently to put your pieces back together and return you to your rightful place--safe and happy in his arms.

Yeah I’ll drink to that