busty supervisor takes on 8 inch dilf in aisle 5! (ᵕ—ᴗ—)
toji has been working as a warehouse stocker for six months now, and he has no complaints besides you.
everywhere he goes, you follow after him with those beady eyes like a puppy; it irritates him and throws off his routine.
“excuse me, Toji, those go in aisle 3 so it’s easier for group B to get them!”
a smile on your face and a scowl on his as he hauls up the same box he just put down and makes his way to aisle 3, which is on the other side of the warehouse.
as his supervisor, your job is to make sure his job is done correctly and he doesn’t slack off. you’ve only been a supervisor for a year and a young one at that, so no one really takes your authority seriously.
especially men in their late 30s to mid-40s.
you shuffle after them all day with a clipboard in hand, noting things down about them.
especially toji.
he got hired because of his probation officer; this warehouse was the only one accepting felons, so he fit right in.
when he was first brought on, he knew he was going to get away with things, but that went away because you are always on his ass, like white on rice.
“toji not there.”
“that’s aisle 6, toji, not 8.”
“lunch isn’t for another thirty minutes; you can take a quick two-minute break though!”
“toji… toji…toji!”
you say his name so much he’s been having fucking dreams about it.
today is no different.
there’s only a few people working today, and aisle five is marked off for construction.
a box has aisle five on it, and you call for toji to get it and quickly go into aisle five and slip it into a shelf.
the follow after him, they were watching him and writing on your clipboard, beaming up at him.
“good job, toji! you’re such a good worker; your work is admired h—"
your words are cut off when he holds up his hand, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his shirt in the other hand.
“please… shut the fuck up.”
as he’s catching his breath, his eyes slide to your tits, pushing out your shirt. you unbutton the collar because of how hot it is today, not thinking your cleavage would be noticeable.
now that he’s really looking at you, he’s noticing just how attractive you are. that pouty look on your face, your jeans curving out your thighs and ass.
random thoughts and scenes start popping in his head. you on your knees sucking him off while he pushes his hips into you, you bent over holding onto the shelf with shaky hands, him fucking you in the air.
his dick gets harder, and you notice, and that’s when he takes the clipboard out of your hand.
“let’s get this over with; you’ve been eye-fucking me since i got here.”
your mouth opens to object, and he takes the clipboard out of your hand and tosses it down, grabbing the front of your neck and kissing you with an open mouth.
the other hand grabbing your ass.
a gasp leaves your mouth and goes into his, and he turns you over towards the shelf, putting both your hands on the handles.
you “fight” it for a few seconds, whipping yourself back around, your whole body hot with arousal and embarrassment.
“are you out of your fucking mind?! there’s people around!”
pushing him back a little, he catches your hands, turning you back around, kissing behind your ear, then your neck.
his hands sliding to the front of your jeans, unbuttoning them.
“that’s what makes it fun; just try to stay quiet.”
kicking your feet further apart and sliding down your jeans, then your panties.
the air hitting your core, making you freeze.
“oh my god, this is actually happening.”
one his hands immediately goes in between your thighs, running a finger through your wetness, then licking it off and going back, pushing a finger in, making you gasp.
his other hand undoes his jeans and pulls himself out.
toji pulls his finger out of you and puts a hand on the back of your neck to keep you steady and starts sliding his dick in.
a sharp gasp leaves you, and a forklift a few aisles away turns on, covering it up.
he slides in deeper, his hand tightening around your neck.
it doesn’t take long for you to take all of him.
all of eight inches deep inside of you, making your knees weak.
the wet sounds and the way your ass bounces off his hips get masked by the forklift sound, and so do your desperate moans.
“wait, no, it’s too deep.”
squeezing your eyes shut, holding onto the shelf handles, your face burning hot, and your entire lower half feels like jelly.
every time he pushes back, there's a tingly eruption in your stomach, the pit of it sitting low.
toji leans closer, kissing your neck, and pushes deeper until he bottoms out, rolling his hips.
every time he ups the rhythm, your ass gets louder, even over the sounds through the warehouse, and that gets him off even more.
“oh fuck, keep it like that. there you go, yeah, keep squeezing my dick.”
your forehead drops, resting on a shelf, your chest tightening along with everything else.
there’s no time to process anything when the both of you cum; it just happens.
he slowly pulls out, wanting to savor the feeling of you squeezing him in the vice.
when he lets go of your neck, there’s a light mark there, and he softly rubs a finger over it before pulling his boxers and jeans up and then yours patting your ass.
“can you sign me out for lunch? i need a drink.”
and you roll your eyes, your forehead still resting on the shelf.
Hiromi Higuruma just loves fucking his frustrations out on you after a bad day.
With that ass arched, head pressed against the mattress, cunt just quivering and drooling as she takes him as good as she can. He loves pressing your face down and shoving that veiny length in and out of your snug lil' cunt over and over, groaning with every clench of your tacky walls.
You love to make sure he is taken care of before it even gets this far, taking cock down your throat fully, greedy for every stretch of your tight throat. Spit across your lips the moment he walks in, tugging at that tie and sighing, his hands tangled and yanking in your hair with every well practiced suck.
oh, and he loves fucking your pretty face, loves choking you until you cry, as you serve him like the perfect girl you are for him. Secretary by day, all professional, letting him work as you walk by in your pretty business dress, just to immediately obey when you walk into his home.
"On your knees," he'd murmur, brushing your hair back with his tired brown eyes shutting in pleasure.. "That's it, good girl."
You would suck his cum straight from his tip, swallowing him deep, cock spurting and leaking even more. Hiromi had you bent over his bed in moments, spitting right on your hole and watching it drip down, two well-practiced fingers scooping the saliva up, sliding inside.
"That wet from swallowing my cum, hmm? Perfect girl, made to take me."
You were shattering with hardly any play, Hiromi had this cock with the perfect curve that always hit your spot. Over and over nudging it, till you gushed and squirted, and he could feel himself fucking all that frustration out.
It's not like you didn't already suck the soul out of him.
It's not like all day he doesn't want to bend you over his desk and fuck you, having your ass sway back and forth underneath those skirts he'd bought you when you first started in his employment, not like he wasn't throbbing when you'd bend over and pick something up for him.
Oh, he wanted you then, too, but Hiromi was nothing if not devoted to his work. So he saved every smack, every choke, every tug of your hair and reserved it for the moment you arrived at his apartment. He really never wanted you to leave, so he made his best efforts to pump your pretty pussy so full you had trouble walking out.
"Fucking... case it's so..." He's laughing just a bit as you arch your ass more for his mean strokes, he's still half got on his damn suit, he'd been so hasty to fill you. The cool metal of his belt against your ass cheek, biting against that overheated skin, decorated with his handprints. "Unjust, isn't it, baby? Unjust...."
"Y- y-yes," you're stammering as he tugs you up, hiccuping with tears streaming, your body trying its best to take his mean strokes as you feel him pummeling your cervix. "Unjust, Hi-Hiromi..."
"It is, fuck feel you take me," he marvels at it, leaned back to watch the slick mess pour, watch your puffy folds trying their very best to take his thickness. "Wasn't that case - hah, rigged?"
"Was, it was," you'd agree with anything he said really, all day aching for him and having to wipe up you're so wet at work, just to finally get used by him. "No case evidence..."
"There was none, god...
"No... ah! real, tangible... Hiromi nghh!"
"Fuckin' all these frustrations out on your pretty body," he'd flip you over, watching his cock move in and out, moaning as his big nose would nudge against your inner knee, his lips moving. "Made for that, aren't you? To let me use you?"
All you could even manage to do was sniffle and nod, letting him do just that.
The next day it would alwasy be business as usual, cute lil smile on your face as you bring Hiromi his coffee and sit over in your spinning chair.
His gaze would flicker, but the man who fucked his cum back inside you by night was a business man by day, tugging at his tie and clearing his throat, asking you to grab him something.
Really only you knew the freaky little slut Hiromi really was.
basil absolutely loves you, you simply can't escape him ─── and you don't really want to.
he loves showing you off. not because you're a trophy, but because you were the first one who truly captivated him and managed to ruin him for any other woman who laid hands on him before he realized why his little friend didn't want to rise when he most wanted to. god, poor women after you who wanted a taste of that cookie, bas almost felt bad thinking about you while he was fucking them real good...looking on the bright side, at least they had a good fuck.
he loved it when you got a little shy with all the attention you were getting. no matter how hard you tried to hide it, he noticed every detail in your reactions, whether facial or bodily. it is no wonder the man spent so much time staring at you, rupert always jumped at the first opportunity to tease him on public, looking him up and down with that sly and irritating smile.
basil always keeps a hand on the small of your back, anywhere and at any time, as if he needed to feel you. he was quite fond of physical contact, especially with you. his hand would sometimes stray onto the delicious curve of your ass and squeeze it quickly before you went into an important party or any other occasion, always letting a slight chuckle after receiving a light tap on the arm for having done what he had done. he is even worse when something extremely good happens to him after a long day, and all he wants is to feel your skin and hear your voice, and maybe a sweet moan or something like that from you.
he wanted you to be at your best whenever you went out, even if it was just for a walk, even if he was the one who had to leave. he would shower you with compliments until you couldn't take anymore. bas is certainly your biggest fan, and seeing him always made your day better. sex is just an extra, but an extremely necessary extra.
you need anything? bas already took care of that. oh, it's in your room and ready to use, ok? ok. you don't even need to open your mouth, bas is often in your place just as you are in his, he already has a good portion of your necessities and other things in mind.
at parties, he likes to joke around and play pranks whenever he feels like it. you clearly remember when he decided to cause a funny "accident" to a certain rival of his, and ended up with that rival leaving the party feeling completely humiliated without even knowing who had plotted against him, you two had already run to one of the rooms and hidden, leaving behind a few giggles here and there through the corridors. and since you were in the room, it's likely that you two fucked each other's brains from all the making out. such good memories.
throughout his entire life, he thought he would always be stuck in a cycle of sex with multiple women and lots of alcohol. he didn't even believe in actual, proper love, until you came along and turned his world upside down. you were hard to win over, but you were the best thing that ever happened. and now you belonged only to him, until his last breath.
a serious promise is this: if you're with him, you'll never bored. he will always take care of it.
your ex used to say that you were “too loud” during sex… but he says, “the louder, the better!”
feat. xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb x fem!reader (no valko yet ‘cause i don’t wanna mischaracterize, and i’m still holding onto the hope that he WILL be back)
cw: smut; dirty talk; oral sex (fem receiving); fingering (fem receiving); cowgirl; doggy; hair pulling; belly bulge + size kink; missionary; biting; slight masochism (caleb); the “ex” in question is implied but not explicitly mentioned, so this can just be read as someone who is embarrassed to moan in front of their partner teehee
notes: birthed this concept whilst in the shower, actually. signed as someone who has never had a toxic ex but does live in a house with thin walls <3
nsfw content below the cut! minors dni
“mmf…”
the low, needy moan resounds from between your thighs. it sends mind-numbing vibrations up your spine.
xavier almost looks like he’s enjoying this more than you are.
your legs, bent at the knees, are thrown over his shoulders. his hands are at your hips, fingers dug desperately into the softness of your thighs like he needs to anchor himself to reality. to you.
the only sounds filling the room are his hot, heavy breaths and the obscene slurp of his mouth against your pussy. he eats you out like it’s the only thing he was put on this earth to do.
in his mind, that’s a pretty good life purpose to have.
he flattens his tongue against your folds before licking a slow stripe upwards. then, he flicks the tip of it right over your clit.
you throw your head back and gasp. your fingers curl around the sheets.
he seems to perk up at the subtle hitch in your breath. suddenly, he lifts his head away from your wet heat. you swallow back the whine of protest that almost crawls its way up your throat.
the lower half of xavier’s face is shiny with slick. his eyes are hooded, pupils blown so wide that his irises are nothing but slivers of blue. he licks his lips, looking absolutely debauched and just like sin incarnate.
“come on, starlight,” he says, voice hoarse and a little breathless. “i know you can do better than that.”
instantly, you flush.
“xaviii,” you whine. “it’s embarrassing…”
your boyfriend doesn’t respond.
instead, he just dives right back in.
with the way his mouth is moving, it seems as though he’s trying to force every moan out of your throat through your pussy. he shoves his tongue into your entrance and swirls it around inside. his arms lock a little more securely around your thighs.
he’s determined, you’ll give him that.
your mouth falls open, but the only noises spilling from those pretty, perfect lips are your labored breaths. your chest heaves as you struggle to suppress the wave of pleasure that threatens to swallow you whole. all you can do in your attempt to fight it is squeeze your eyes shut.
xavier is having none of that.
the lascivious sound of him making out with your cunt intensifies. it’s like he’s trying to wring out every sound that he can get. he’s relentless in his pursuit. he licks and sucks and groans, eyes rolling back in bliss at the taste of you. his nose bumps against your clit, and you jolt.
“xav… hah, x-xavi…”
“mmh.”
his reply is halfhearted at best. the way he sucks your clit into his mouth is anything but.
“xavier!”
your back arches off the mattress as his teeth graze over the sensitive bud.
the cry of his name has his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. his eyes light up for a moment before darkening with arousal.
he shoots you a grin that is very unbefitting of his sweet, boyish features.
“that’s it, angel. give me more.”
zayne has always been quiet during intimacy. usually, the most you’ll get out of him is a low grunt or groan, a whisper of your name or the occasional expletive muttered under his breath. so it was only natural for you to assume that he would also be turned off by a partner who is vocal in bed.
you couldn’t have been more sorely mistaken.
“darling.” his voice is deceptively calm, even as two of his fingers scissor relentlessly in and out of your dripping hole. “please remove your hand from your mouth.”
you barely hear him through the blood rushing in your ears. and even if you could hear, you doubt you’d be able to comprehend it. your brain already feels like it’s melting into a puddle of mush in your skull. when he crooks his fingers upwards, your whine is muffled against your palm.
zayne clicks his tongue.
“don’t make me repeat myself.”
his words are laced with an icy-cold edge that wasn’t there before. you know that tone. you know it means business, and promises punishment if you don’t behave.
so you swallow your pride and ask.
“… huh?”
well, you try to, at least.
ever-gracious and oh-so-patient, he reiterates his request. this time, you catch it.
slowly — hesitantly — your hand drops down to your side.
he hums. “good girl.”
his fingers continue to pump in and out of your sopping cunt. the wet shlick, shlick, shlick that hits your ears makes you want to close your thighs around his wrist.
“zayne,” you gasp. “pl-please, zaynie, i—”
“shhh…” his hand skims up your side, calloused palm sending shivers up your spine. “relax, my love.”
“b-but… i can’t…” you choke on a sob, squirming uncontrollably beneath his touch. “i can’t help it…!”
“i know, darling,” he says. “go on. let yourself go.”
your cheeks flush. adamantly, you shake your head. when the tips of his fingers graze your g-spot again, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to muffle your whimper.
a quiet sigh escapes from zayne’s lips. it isn’t a sound of anger or frustration or even disappointment. it almost seems pitying, really, when coupled with the sudden softness of his gaze.
the hand that was once a grounding presence at your waist finds a new home at the curve of your jaw. he gently tugs at the corner of your mouth, coaxing you to release your bruised lip from between your teeth. when you finally heed his silent command, he immediately slides his thumb past your parted lips.
“there,” he murmurs, half to himself. “keep it open. just like that.”
your brows furrow in confusion as your sex-addled brain struggles to comprehend why his grip on your jaw has become so firm.
you don’t get the chance to figure it out before he slips another long finger into your fluttering pussy, angling all three upwards until you’re seeing stars.
the moment the heel of his palm grinds down over your clit is the moment that finally breaks you.
“ah!”
the moan you let out is embarrassingly loud, thanks to the way your mouth has been pried open against your will. your entire face feels like it’s been set on fire.
zayne, of course, hardly reacts. only the faintest twitch of his lips and the glint in his eye gives him away. but you can tell he’s pleased, because the next words out of his mouth are gravelly, rough, and a little bit strained.
“good girl.”
for someone who dedicates his life to the pursuit and creation of art, you think that rafayel himself rivals even the most stunning masterpieces currently in existence. especially when he’s sprawled out on the bed beneath you.
a beautiful rosy hue is painted across his cheeks, reaching all the way to the tips of his ears. his eyes are half-lidded and hazy with bliss. his jaw is slack, lips parted around the prettiest moans you’ve ever heard. just the sound of them causes heat to flare up in your gut.
and yet, you still haven’t let out a single pleasured sound of your own. not because he isn’t making you feel good; in fact, quite the opposite is true.
old habits die hard, as the saying goes.
your hips slow to a near-complete stop as you grind yourself languidly against him. you’ve been riding him relentlessly for nearly twenty straight minutes, and your thighs are beginning to ache.
rafayel lets out a whine of protest at the sudden lack of friction.
“cutie,” he whimpers, voice breaking around the syllables. “d-don’t tease. you’re killing me here.”
“i know,” you say. “fuck, ‘m sorry, raf, just— give me a sec…”
his hands tighten around your waist. you can tell his patience is starting to wear thin.
you’re thankful that your hands are already braced on his shoulders for stability. if they weren’t, you would’ve toppled forward the second he started moving.
you hadn’t even noticed the way he planted his feet on the mattress until he begins to jackhammer up into you. he immediately sets a downright brutal pace, hips colliding mercilessly with your own. his fingers dig into the plush of your ass, bouncing you up and down on his cock. he’s not so much guiding you as he is pulling you down — like a siren dragging an unlucky sailor to their demise.
you, of course, are far from unlucky. but you do feel like you’re drowning, with the way he leaves you gasping for air.
“raf— w-wait, slow down…!”
but he can’t. he’s already too far gone, lost in the heat between your legs and the way you clench so perfectly around his length.
his thrusts are sloppy, mindless and desperate. he needs you even more than a fish needs water to breathe. but the fervor with which he ruts up into you is almost punishing, as if he’s trying to say, look at what you’ve done to me. look at how you ruin me.
he’s a wreck. your wreck. and you love it almost as much as he does.
you’re pretty sure you’re going to find bruises in the shape of him tomorrow morning.
“sh-shit, shit, shit,” rafayel warbles, “you’re so beautiful… perfect… gorgeous… my muse…”
each word is punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips. your fingernails dig into his shoulders until red, crescent-shaped indents mar his milky skin.
his moans are unabashed, and oh, so loud. you feel every sound like a vibration in your very soul. you’re lucky he has no neighbors. you still half-expect to receive a noise complaint.
the bedroom is filled with just that — the echoes of his pleasure and the wet slap of skin on skin and your heavy breaths laced with faint whimpers that refuse to fully form.
that is, until he shifts his angle. the swollen head of his cock slams against your spongey front wall, and you shriek.
the sound is so abrupt, so raw, that it feels like it was torn from your chest. mortified, you clamp both hands over your mouth in shock.
rafayel’s pace falters. for a moment, he stills. and for the first time since you took him to the hilt tonight, he’s silent.
the air between you is thick, charged with electricity and something more.
your brain screams at you to do something. apologize, or push yourself off of him, or bury your face in your hands and vow never to look him in the eye again out of sheer embarrassment. anything.
then, he smirks.
he doesn’t even give you a chance to blink before your positions have flipped. the air is knocked out of your lungs as your back hits the mattress, in the exact spot he lay mere moments before. the sheets still carry the warmth of his body. you can’t even fully process the loss of his cock or the emptiness that follows, because in an instant he’s already shoving back into you with a force that makes your back arch and your throat go hoarse with the weight of your scream.
“yes,” he gasps, “that’s exactly what i need. come on, cutie, let me hear how good i make you feel.”
of all the positions sylus has put you in, you think you like this one the best.
not because he reaches the deepest like this, although that certainly is a perk. not because it’s the most comfortable, because if you’re being honest, your knees are starting to hurt.
no, it’s because in this position, you can afford to be as loud as you want.
your hands fist the sheets beside your head as you bury your face a little further into the pillow. the loud moan that rips through you as his hips collide with your ass is completely muffled.
and sure, your drool stains the pillowcase. your teeth catch on tear-stained silk every time the pleasure grows impossible to bear. and yes, you have to admit that it’s getting harder to breathe.
but it feels so good, you forget to care.
“kitten,” sylus groans out from somewhere above you. “if you keep squeezing me like that… this will be over sooner than you think.”
all you can do in response is whine and grind yourself back against him, forcing him deeper until you damn near feel him in your womb.
his grip on your waist tightens, fingers leaving indents in the pliant flesh.
“you’re determined to push every single one of my buttons tonight, aren’t you?” his voice never wavers, though it takes on a new timbre.
your back arches a little deeper. you try to mumble out a response — really, you do — but the only thing you can manage is a choked-out sob into the pillow. the sound vaguely resembles his name.
the obscene squelch of your cunt and the heady smell of sex permeate the air. combined with the considerable lack of oxygen in your lungs, the whole situation is making you feel somewhat dizzy.
another hard thrust drives his tip just below your cervix, and the cry you let out turns your throat raw. you claw desperately at silken sheets, scrabbling for purchase. part of you wishes your nails were raking down sylus’s back instead.
he leans down until you feel the hard planes of his chest against your shoulder blades. his breath is hot as it fans enticingly over the shell of your ear.
“that’s it, sweetie,” he all but growls, “take it. all of it.”
your jaw goes slack as you keen.
before you realize what’s happening, one of his hands is sliding down your body — from your waist to your front, right where your pelvis is canted up at an angle and away from the mattress beneath you. the tips of his fingers trace the curve of your stomach. they linger just below your bellybutton, applying the slightest pressure until—
there.
he feels it. the slight swell that protrudes from your tummy every time he surges forward. his palm flattens over the area. partially for support, keeping you upright, but mostly just to feel the physical evidence of his size and what it does to your body.
a strangled whimper escapes your throat.
you’re getting close. you can feel it. the tightening in your core, the way your pussy squeezes around him like it’s trying to suck him in even deeper.
sylus feels it, too.
you barely have time to process the momentary high before you’re falling over the edge, the pleasure wracking through your body like a tidal wave.
the noise that falls from your lips is strangled and undignified, voice cracking into something unrecognizable as your own.
you don’t register the sudden rush of air that hits your lungs until it’s too late.
the pillow is no longer pressed against your face. silk is no longer clenched between your teeth.
instead, a fistful of your hair is tugging at your scalp, held up by sylus’s hand. the other is still at your stomach, helping to hold you upright.
you can’t see it, but sylus has that signature devilish smirk of his painted across his infuriatingly handsome face.
“there we go. that’s what i wanted to hear,” he says, sounding much too smug for his own good. “now, i want you to do it again.”
sometimes you wonder how your loving boyfriend can be so damn mean.
caleb is unbelievably sweet in all other aspects of your relationship. seriously, he checks every box. he cooks, he cleans, brings home flowers, opens the car door, pays for all your dates, lavishes you with all the love and affection you could ever want or ask for… et cetera, et cetera, so on and so forth. all of it. the works. he’s at your beck and call.
but right now, he’s fucking you like he hates you. he’s got your legs hooked over his hips, knees locked around his waist and ankles crossed at his back. his cock pistons in and out of your dripping hole like he’s trying to drill his way up into your stomach.
not that it’s a bad thing, of course. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it.
but he’s making it really hard to stay quiet.
your teeth sink into his shoulder. it’s the only way you can think to muffle the needy whine that almost falls from your lips.
caleb grunts in pain. or it could have been a low moan of satisfaction. you wouldn’t put it past the masochist in him. and you’d hardly be able to tell the difference, anyway, since it feels like your head is stuffed with cotton.
he slams into you again, and you bite down a little harder. if you were anywhere near coherency, you’d probably be afraid of breaking skin. not that he cares if you do.
his hands are clenched into tight fists, biceps flexing on either side of your head as he digs his nails into his palms. it’s all he can do to ground himself — and to keep from cumming too fast, but that’s a secret that will stay with him.
his chest is flush against yours. he can practically feel every breath you take, the thrumming of your heart against his own… and, of course, the soft curve of your breasts, the tantalizing way they slide and bounce with every move.
admittedly, the latter is taking up a large portion of his attention.
your entire body jolts with every roll of his hips. you’re pretty sure you’re drooling against his shoulder.
it’s not enough for caleb. he's greedy. he wants more.
he wants to see your face. he wants to see your pretty little fucked-out expression, with your eyes rolled back and your tongue lolling out of your slack-jawed mouth. but that would require separation. pulling his sticky, sweat-slicked skin away from yours. drawing back from the heat of your body. and he doesn’t want that. oh, no. that's the last thing he wants.
he supposes that some sacrifices must be made.
so he squeezes his eyes shut, lest he succumb to the temptation. and then, he picks up speed.
the sudden change in pace almost breaks you. the whine catches in your throat.
he notices.
“c’mon, pips…” he’s panting like a dog. “i know you can— fuck— g-give it to me… i want to hear that pretty lil’ voice.”
your nails scratch at his arms, as if in protest of his words. you shake your head weakly. he chuckles, the sound dark and throaty and laced with danger.
“aww, don’t be embarrassed. i— ah, i like it when you get loud.”
caleb knows you like the back of his hand. every thrust is full of intention, the angle of his hips precise. it has sparks exploding across your vision and a moan on the tip of your tongue.
“you’re close, aren’t you? i can feel you clenchin’…”
your pussy lets out a lewd, slick sound in response, answering his question for you.
“that’s right, baby,” he groans. “tell me how much you love my cock.”
you’re pretty sure he isn’t even talking to you anymore.
your head falls away from the junction of his neck, the tip of your nose tracing along his jawline. you inhale deeply, and the scent of his skin fills your lungs.
“caleb,” you slur, lips brushing over the shell of his ear. “please— hck! w-wanna cum…”
you can almost hear the wicked grin in his voice as he responds.
“hmmm… i dunno, pips,” he says, pretending to mull it over. his pelvis grinds over your clit, and you sob.
“maybe if you say it louder, i’ll consider it.”
final remarks: phew, baby's first smut fic posted to the big tumblr dot com. ngl i think i did xavier kinda dirty here, his portion had the shortest wc at 507 :(
werewolf!spouse who has to mount you when he goes into heat. he's so sorry he doesn't want to hurt you or scare you but he's so needy. he just has to fuck your aweet little hole, he can smell you across the house. like your scent, your body is calling to him wirh need. just begging to be used. he'd have to pounce on you as soon as enter the room.
he's pinning you to the closest possible furniture. “i’ll pay for that,” he'd pant, chest heaving with ragged breathes. right before he rips all of your clothes off you, he needs to feel you. needs to see all of you, that belongs to him.
your werewolf!husband is crying out as he fully sheaths himself in your cunt. he's sobbing, apologizing for hurting you, for the lack of prep. usually he was so good at all the little things that come with foreplay. he just can't waste anytime. his claws are digging into the fat of your hips, as he manhandles you like a doll. just a toy to be used for his pleasure.
you can't help the moans falling from your lips as he fucks you dumb. “so good, baby, fuck, your cunt hugs me so good. gonna cum, gonna fill you up, bet you'd love that huh?” he's going insane, just babbling on as he paints your walls with his seed.
he’s groping your ass at the cul-de-sac cookouts. he's burying his nose in your neck because you smell one hundred times better than the food your neighbor keeps forcing onto his plate. he’s hogging the fruit platter you brought for everyone else, feeding you pieces with his hands, then making you lick the juice from his fingers afterward.
you make up for forcing him to spend time with the neighbors he doesn't even like by letting him take you however he pleases.
tonight's choice is against the dresser to the left of the bed you two share.
it bangs against the wall with chunky, noisy thuds, the everyday objects upon it knocking over, off, and rolling onto the floor as he fucks you from behind with a hand pressed at your throat. squeezing only just to keep you staring into the mirror attached to the drawers.
he's hunched over you, panting against your shoulder. animalistic grunts mixing with the loud squelches sounding from where the two of you meet, your pussy stretched and stuffed to the brim with his cock.
sweat drips from the both of you as he pounds out his frustrations over not being able to have any alone time with you for the past three goddamn hours. over having to sit with a stiff cock while your neighbors tug you away from him for stupid reasons. over seeing you prance around in that little skirt you only pull out for the summer months.
licking at your neck and ear, he comes hard with powerful smacks of his hips into your ass. thick cum flowing inside you and leaking out when you can no longer hold it anymore. it grows into an impressive puddle on the floor beneath you as he carries on. steadying the flick of his waist once more and pumping himself until you're gushing with a trembling cry.
he makes sure to wrap you tight to keep fucking you right there, until you're wailing his name loud enough for the neighbors to hear.
maybe that'll finally get them to fuck the hell off...
adult!fire lord zuko x fire lady reader | contains smut | mdni. | wc: 2,9K
summary: in which diplomacy is temporarily interrupted because the Fire Lord and Fire Lady are terrible at pretending they can keep their hands off each other.
content: adult zuko, established relationship, post-canon atla, royal event, fluff, explicit sexual content [kneeling/oral (m/f & f/m), desk sex & couch/divan sex, mutual climax, aftercare], risk of being caught, zuko steams, semi-public, praise, humor, gaang mentions.
note: no proofread!we die like men, and I just really wanted to post it so will take a look at it tomorrow. — title inspired by ‘hold tight’ by sabrina carpenter. fulfilling this request! xx
It took longer for you to undo the ties of your formal court robes than it did for Zuko to pull his cock free from beneath his own.
You stroked him a couple of times, looking up at him from between his thighs taking a second to catch your breath.
“You know, we need a better signal for these types of things,” you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes. “If you keep waiting for me to circle back to you, we’re doomed for the rest of the banqueting season.”
“We already agreed on a signal,” he said, letting out a low moan as you licked him from base to tip. You took the head of his cock into your mouth for a swift second before pulling off with a pop.
“Which was…?” You brought both hands into play, stroking him. You were sure the slick noises were barely audible over the noise of the grand hall outside the doors.
He reached down, tugging the lobe of your ear with hardly any force. “The ear tug.”
“I didn’t see you! We have to think of another one.”
“Yeah... let me think,” he rasped, his hand moving to the nape of your neck to guide you back toward his length.
Under his firm grip, you bobbed your head, supporting his weight with one hand while tasting every inch of him. From this angle, he was breathtaking: his robes were an absolute mess, but the gold shoulder plates of his outer coat made his shoulders look even broader. His eyes flicked down to meet yours, his mouth parted, making no effort to hold back the moans spilling past his lips.
You kept going, gripping him tight and using your hand to complement the thrusts into your mouth, right up until his hand tightened in your hair and pulled your head back.
“Not yet. Get up,” he growled, gesturing toward his large desk.
You obeyed, gathering the slick beaded pre-cum from the corner of your mouth with a tip of your finger. “But we have to be back in—”
“Aang is currently trying to convince the Earth Kingdom delegates not to pull out of the council,” Zuko interjected, his voice thick. “I saw Katara on her way to bail him out. That gives us ten minutes, minimum.”
You licked your finger clean. “I like your math. Plus, Sokka is even chattier than usual after three cups of fermented plum wine… That’s another ten minutes right there. If we hurry, we can—”
Zuko shut you up with a kiss, his hands gripping your hips to lift you onto the edge of the desk. Before you could even catch your breath, he pushed you back until you were lying flat against the cool surface.
His hand cupped the side of your breast through your loosened dress. His lips trailed down the column of your neck, down to your chest, kissing one breast while massaging the other. He lavished his tongue over your hardened nipples like a man starved, alternating between them until you were writhing.
“I love to hear you talk,” he said against your skin, “but I love hearing you moan for me even more.”
He tracked a trail of fiery kisses down your abdomen, hooking his arms under your knees to spread your legs wide until he was kneeling between them. Without wasting another second, he dove straight for your center.
“Agni…” you gasped, your back arching off the hard desk. “Mm, I love—fuck taking a break!”
“Mhm…” he hummed against your heat. The vibration forced your hands to scramble for purchase on the edge of the desk, recklessly scattering parchment and official seals in the process.
Your whimpers only encouraged him. Zuko pinned you steady with a heavy arm across your lower abdomen. His free hand drove two fingers deep inside you, slipping in and out in tandem with the punishing work of his tongue against your clit.
He was rsdiating heat. His breath burned sweet against your skin, his eyes locking with yours through the haze of pleasure, absolutely devoted. You reached down to touch his face, carefully avoiding his hair; the golden Fire Lord crown was still pinned into his formal topknot, holding the half-updo required for the gala you’d just escaped.
Seeing how desperate you were becoming, Zuko suddenly pulled away and straightened up.
“What…?” you pleaded, already missing the heat of him.
“You forget,” he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. “If you want something, all you have to do is ask.”
He reached up, unclasping the Fire Lord crown and pulling the gold pin from his topknot, letting his dark hair fall loose around his shoulders. He shed the heavy red tunic of his state attire, tossing it aside to reveal just his dark under shirt and loose trousers, his cloth belt already untied.
“Wouldn’t want anything getting in the way of the Fire Lady.”
“In that case, lose the shirt already,” you panted, propping yourself up on your forearms. “Oh, maybe that could be the signal. You fixing your collar or undoing a button…”
“I don't think you'd notice that from across a crowded banquet hall,” he teased, unbuttoning his shirt. “Unless you’re always watching me?”
You slid a hand down and circled your own clit a few times under his gaze, making a deep flush creep up his neck to his cheeks.
“I am always watching you, Zu.”
“We wouldn’t even be in this room if it weren’t for my discreet whispers in your ear between greeting dignitaries,” he murmured, leaning down to press a single peck to your clit. “But keep brainstorming…”
He took his shirt off, dropping it somewhere in the study alongside the rest of his discarded attire, and stepped right back into position between your thighs.
The light of the moon, streaming through the grand window behind him, illuminated the flex of his broad, muscular back, highlighting the faint battle scars across his skin as he leaned over you.
His mouth resumed its wicked attack. Without the crown in the way, you finally held Zuko close, burying your fingers deep into his hair.
“Zu—Spirits! Don't stop…”
You pulled his head even closer, rolling your hips into every stroke of his tongue until you were unraveled. The climax hit you hard, shattering your composure as you cried out his name into the empty study.
With a final and lingering kiss to your belly button, Zuko worked his way back up your body, capturing your gasps in a tasting kiss as your high slowly began to settle.
Your hand cupped his cheek, breathless. “I really think now we should—oh!”
Without a word of warning, Zuko scooped you effortlessly off the desk. You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist and hooked your arms over his shoulders, the remnants of your formal dress draping over his forearms.
“Maybe you could just shout,” he suggested, carrying you across the room.
You laughed. “I don’t think screaming your name is very discreet, Fire Lord,” you teased, pushing a stray lock of dark hair from his eye. “It might attract a little attention.”
“Yes, but…” He lowered you onto the plush divan in the corner of his study, his usual spot for informal tea and private council. “…it would be effective. You could just pretend you dropped something.”
You watched him kick his trousers, your eyes tracking the movement of his hands as he stroked his length.
“I drop things all the time. How would you know which stumble is a signal and which is just me being clumsy?”
“Easy,” he said, kneeling on the divan and straddling your thighs. He gave his cock a few pumps that made your mouth water. “If you drop something more than three times in five minutes, it’s definitely a signal.”
You shook your head, a smile breaking through when he leaned down to kiss you, positioning his head at your slick entrance.
“Everyone would make fun of me,” you whispered against his lips, guiding his tip to your center.
“Next thing you know, the High Council will be debating the Fire Lady's tragic lack of coordination.”
He chuckled and pushed inside you in one deep slide.
Both of your moans were muffled together as your lips locked. When he began to move, you could have sworn he was even larger than before. You were so tight around him, wringing sounds from his chest with every heavy thrust.
Zuko leaned his weight onto his hands on either side of your head, his face burying into the crook of your neck as his pace picked up. You closed your eyes, your hands gripping the skin they could find like his back and shoulders, your nails digging in hard enough to leave marks as he drove you wild.
He moved, grabbing both of your legs and hooking them over his shoulders. He thrust once, twice… so hard and so deep that a loud scream escaped your throat before you could stop it.
“Fire Lord?”
Your eyes flew open. You slammed a hand over your mouth. Zuko froze, towering over you.
Normally, if an attendant interrupted, he’d quickly bring you to a hand finish, help you smooth down your clothes, and play the stoic ruler.
Instead, his eyes locked onto yours, and he drove his hips forward in another thrust.
Your eyes squeezed shut, your hand pressing against your lips to muffle the cry that tore from your throat.
“Fire Lord, are you in there?” the attendant called out, knocking.
“Zuko,” you whimpered against your palm, “maybe we should—ah!”
Another deep roll of his hips. You bit down on your hand. Outside, the knocking stopped.
“I’m not stopping,” Zuko stated in a whisper. “Not yet.”
“… Fire Lady?” came another voice from the hallway.
Zuko kept up a merciless pace, giving you just enough time between dragging thrusts to keep from screaming aloud. The only sound in the dimly lit private study was the slap of skin against skin and the heavy sound of his breathing. The fullness of him inside you was overwhelming, to say the least.
“They’re not in there,” the first attendant's voice said.
“They’re probably in the grand kitchen. The Fire Lady mentioned wanting spiced plum cake earlier. Let’s check there..”
The footsteps faded down the corridor. With the threat gone, Zuko lost all restraint. He seized your hips with both hands, pounding into you with force, watching the exact point where his body met yours. You rolled your head back.
When he finally pulled out, he reached down and grabbed your hand, hauling you up into his lap. He caught you in a messy kiss, his hands massaging your hips with a eager heat.
“I could send an attendant to fetch you,” you panted, resting your forehead against his as you sat straddling his lap. “Something official, but not suspicious.”
He stroked your thigh, encouraging you.
You took hold of his cock, guiding him back to your slick entrance, lowering yourself down his length.
“That’s good,” he rasped, his fingers digging into your waist as you took him all the way in. “We could use a code word... Like, ‘The Fire Lord requires a delivery of fire flakes.’”
You stopped mid-motion, looking at him incredulously.
“Are you serious? I’m riding you right now and you’re thinking about snack food?”
Zuko let out a laugh, his hands urging your hips to move. You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips as you began a rolling rhythm on his lap, swallowing his groan with your mouth.
“I can’t think straight when you’re close to me,” he admitted, eyes half closed.
“That’s a bit of a problem considering we’re married,” you teased, setting a rhythm that made his head fall back against the divan. “And I happen to like being close to you. Exhibit A…”
His hands roamed over your bare skin. His heat was rising, radiating from his skin like an oven.
You picked up the pace, riding him harder, feeling the coil in your gut tighten to a snapping point.
Zuko’s hands clamped tight onto your waist, guiding your movements, his hips snapping up to meet yours.
“Spirits… right there!” you gasped, tossing your head back.
He let out a growl against your neck, his thrusts becoming erratic. The friction was electric. You came around him, your internal muscles pulsing tightly against his length, which pushed him over the edge.
With a groan, Zuko poured himself inside you. The sudden release sent a wave of heat rushing through his veins, steam rose off his shoulders and chest in the cool night air of the study.
He held you against his chest, both of your heartbeats hammering together in the quiet room as the steam dissipated, leaving you collapsed against him in blissful exhaustion.
He didn't pull away or rush to sit up. Instead, his fingers trailed lazily up and down the curve of your bare spine, pressing tender kisses to the top of your head, your temple, and finally your lips.
“You okay?” he whispered against your ear.
“More than okay,” you hummed, pressing your face into the still warm crook of his neck. “Though we’re going to be hopelessly late getting back…”
“Let them wait,” Zuko said, his smile pressing into your collarbone. He smoothed back a lock of hair from your forehead, his thumb resting on your cheekbone with an understated tenderness. “I’m in no hurry to go back out there.”
For a few quiet minutes, you stayed wrapped in each other's body. Yours naturally rocked against his in slow pulses, savoring the friction and radiant heat of him inside you, enjoying the rare stillness away from the overwhelming demands of the court.
Zuko sat up, taking your hand to help you gather your discarded robes. There was no desperate scramble at all, he helped you drape the heavy silk back over your shoulders, his fingers taking their time to tie the intricate waist sashes for you. You returned the favor, leaning in to replace the golden flame coronet into his topknot and smoothing down the structured collar of his coat.
As your fingers touched his tunic, you looked up into his eyes and double tapped the flame crest embroidered on his collar.
Zuko raised his eyebrow.
“What’s that?”
“Our signal,” you whispered, smiling with pride. “Next time we're stuck at one of these long banquets, I’ll find a way to walk past you and double tap your crest just like this. It means you have ten minutes to clear your schedule, find a private room, and wait for me.”
Zuko’s lips curved into a smirk, he reached up to cover your hand with his own, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
“Consider your signal officially approved.”
Before you could kiss him again, three loud knocks rattled the doors of the study.
“Hey, guys!” Sokka’s booming voice carried right through the thick wood. “Aang’s speech went great, Katara didn’t have to freeze anyone, and I’ve successfully eaten my weight in Fire Nation food! But the delegates are asking where their hosts ran off to!”
You both looked at the door, then back at each other.
“...Unless you two are doing 'official Fire Nation business' in there? Because if you’re making me stall the Earth Kingdom council by myself, I’m drinking the rest of the good plum wine!”
Zuko closed his eyes and let out a sigh.
“We’ll be right out, Sokka!” you called back, trying to keep a laugh out of your voice.
“Take your time! Just make sure your crown isn’t crooked, Zuko!” Sokka teased, his fading footsteps echoing down the hallway alongside his triumphant laughter.
You giggled. As for Zuko, instead of pulling away, he leaned in closer.
“Ready to face the court?” he asked, his thumb trailing a path over the inside of your wrist.
You turned your head, pressing your lips in a touch right to the sharp angle of his jaw.
“Anything for you, Fire Lord.”
Zuko’s breath hitched. His gaze dropped to your mouth.
“Is it too soon for you to tap my crest?”
note: hii!! sorry for going mia 🫶 i’ve been busy as usual, and on top of that i’ve had a lot of family events lately. i wanted to post this as a little thank you for being so patient while i disappeared.
next up will be the too little too late-inspired one shot, which i’m super excited about!! hope you liked this one! thank you so much for reading and for all your support. xx
🏷️my dear taglist (based off your approval in the last whaletail island series - always open!xx): @highlady0239 @xoxocelestial @eepypupy @maee67 @keropiiko @yeonatingz @magnificentlyrainythunder @solarlovesxyz
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀zuko has his face buried in the sweet delicacy that is your saccharine heated pussy. his hands are holding your thighs apart, his grip strong yet so loving. he is completely drunk on the taste of your syrupy slick, eyes glossed over with nothing but hunger and desire for his wife's sweetness.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"s-so good~" you whimper in that soft pretty tone that has his eyes rolling to the back of his head and for droplets of pre to drip down his reddened tip. his cock twitches when he hears you so shamelessly let those loud and cute whines spill from your lips, unbothered about whether or not anyone could hear you（though they very much could!）
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀you tug on his silky hair when he starts to suckle on your puffy clit, your back arching off the mattress and more of those pretty moans echo through the chambers, only making his dick throb even more and he is practically humping the bed to ease some of the pleasure bubbling up inside of him.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀that pleasure just seems to build and build up inside of him, his balls tightening with each passing second and that familiar feeling coiling inside of him is nearly becoming unbearable. he reckons it's because it has been a while since he has been intimate with you, his noble duties getting in the way of being able to spend time with you. so he isn't entirely surprised but . . to be on the brink of orgasm from giving you head alone? now that is a first.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀and zuko being the man that he is is trying extraordinarily hard not to cream himself so that he'll be able to stuff you with his cock soon enough. but the louder your mewls grow and the more pathetic and dulcet they come out, he knows he will not be able to hold himself back much longer. and that comes true when you whimper so pathetically, "mmphh~ you're so good to me, zuzu."
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀he is groaning into your core, the vibrations of it sending shivers down your body as you clench around his tongue which only makes him croak out the most pathetic whimper you've ever heard. his face is flushed a soft crimson colour and he's still whining into your cunt, his hips jerking up into the sheets.
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀you're a bit confused by his reaction . . he's never been this way before and you're about to question him when he unlatches his lips from your wet folds and he presses his cheeks to your inner thighs, wearing the cutest pout ever. and he confesses before you can even ask, "i'm sorry, my love. i came just now."
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀you try your best not to giggle but it slips out anyway, zuko's face only growing redder. he hides his face into your pussy, giving little pecks to your core like he was apologising for finishing before you could. "may i continue? i cannot leave you dissatisfied." you coo at him sweetly, stroking his hair as he dives back in to savour on your candied slick. his dick begins chubbing up again upon hearing your soft whines, throbbing and aching terribly already . . oh spirits.
ꮼ firelord!zuko is a lovesick man when it comes to you
ᦸ sweetheart boyfriend!zuko is a hardcore yearner ⸝⸝ not proofread.
boyfriend!zuko is a very sympathetic man; he hates to see you in any amount of pain—trying to help any way he can, from making you tea to heating a bag of rice with his flames so he can rub it over your aches in an attempt to soothe.
He'll expertly rub the tense muscles on your back or carefully hold the hot bag over cramps, just happy to make things easier for you.
boyfriend!zuko has a glow whenever he sees you, a softness only you get to know. He's still kind to the others and to his friends and puts on a brave face to the nation—strong & honorable—but you see when he collapses into you after a grueling day.
Vulnerability has never come easy for him, but it's never as hard when it comes to being vulnerable and 'weak' in front of you; it's comforting, actually.
boyfriend!zuko loves when you're cuddled up in bed & lie on top of him, claiming him as your 'special heated blanket.' He finds it oddly endearing when you tug his arms around him and burrow into his skin.
Having you pressed up against him, so content and comfortable, is always so grounding after a hard day.
boyfriend!zuko lets you play with his hair in private, twirling it in your fingertips, scratching his scalp, or just running your fingers through it whenever he's lying on your chest.
Your fingers tangled in the long strands always make it easier to sleep—he's typically out within five minutes flat whenever you start youing with it.
boyfriend!zuko doesn't hide how much he cares for you; he's had countless moments in front of his men where they've caught him holding, kissing, or just touching you for reassurance, & his only reaction is to be annoyed they didn't knock first.
He's not afraid to be honest; he's in love. There's no point in being with someone if you're not in love & not at least sometimes affectionate.
boyfriend!zuko loves whenever you start yapping. He's a rather quiet person, so he adores it whenever you start going on and on about something. It could be the most mundane, uninteresting thing, & as long as you look happy talking to him, he's listening.
It's so sweet to see the way he looks at you once you start your ramblings—the soft spot is very visible with the smile on his lips.
boyfriend!zuko likes to kiss your shoulder a lot. Waking up in a tangled mess of limbs? Expect a kiss on your cheek. Getting ready together in the bathroom? Expect his arms wrapped around you and kisses on your shoulder. A moment alone? You get it. Expect a kiss on the shoulder.
It feels more intimate than a plain kiss on the cheek, and he likes the variety of reasons he can come up with for kissing your shoulder.
boyfriend!zuko is surprisingly gentle; obviously, he'd never be mean to you, but everything between you has this soft, loving undertone.
From the tone of voice he uses, how he speaks to you, & how calm he is around you, everything is serene. He does his best to never be anything like his father. Its so sweet how he treats you.
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