#outercourse

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Help to Sleep

Kakashi Hatake x Reader, SMUT. MDNI 18+ only. Ao3

6.8k words, kind of a shorter one but im trying to be more concise. also this one won the poll but the Higuruma fic and the Jiraiya fic will also be posted soon! thanks to everyone who voted and I hope you enjoy. tags: thigh fucking, biting, a lot of talking about smell, kakashi is tired and desperate and loves you so much.

When you met Kakashi he wasn’t a sound sleeper. He would get up periodically throughout the night and excuse himself from bed to sit in the living room reading or cleaning, trying to lull himself back to sleep through monotony. As years removed him from the prescient danger of working in the anbu and moved him to a technically safer position of teaching, he found himself able to sleep feeling safer, sleeping harder, dreaming more, unafraid of being caught unprepared. He could still rouse himself at the slightest shift or change in your shared home, but these days, you would find him sleeping so peacefully, so still, that you felt compelled to check under his exposed nose to see if he was still breathing. He always was. He would often then be awoken by your approach and take your trembling hand in his and press a soft kiss to the heel of your palm, touched by your concern for him. Sleeping next to him was like sleeping next to a large, warm dog, slobber included. As selfish as it was, sometimes you wished he would keep his mask on during sleep, just to have another barrier between you and his drool. His bare, strapping arms would wrap around your shoulders, holding you tight to his warm, broad chest and not release you until he had woken the next morning, pulling you with him in every readjustment and every toss and turn. You would never admit this to him, but he had recently begun to snore, a soft, rattling breath inhaled and exhaled in little huffs. You knew he would take it as an example of his rigorous assassin’s training slipping away from him as age and direction had led him down another path, so for now it was a secret only for you. And you were honored to know something about him so intimate, so private, something he, himself, didn’t know. 

You had never known bliss like being held in his arms, pressed right up against his naked torso. Kakashi never slept with a shirt on, citing his own body heat became overwhelming for him if he did. Once you two had gotten more comfortable as a couple, sharing beds over and over, he began sleeping with nothing on period, encouraging you to do the same, again blaming his body heat. You were happy to oblige, slipping between the sheets with him completely bare, his hands glued themselves to your soft, exposed skin. They were rough, his gloves did their best to protect the thin skin of his hands from callusing and blistering, but they could only do so much. His long fingers were textured and bubbled in places, the palms themselves bearing small nicked scars from the wayward kunai or shuriken, but they felt like butter on your body, sliding so smoothly down your side, from rib cage to hip. Tonight was one of these nights, where his hands grabbed you freely, squeezing every curve of flesh he could reach, his lips ghosting over the back of your neck. 

“So beautiful…”, he would whisper before sliding his tongue up the outside of your ear. 

By this point you could feel him becoming harder against your ass, you pressed your hips against his, rocking slightly to stimulate his growing erection. Kakashi was a grower, starting contained and unimposing but expanding and lengthening into a wondrous, full staff that never left you unsatisfied. His hands would get hotter, press harder, squeeze tighter, as you pulled this transformation from him, bruising the outer part of your arm, your hip, your breast, wherever he was using for leverage to rut his cock against you. You raised your arm to cup the back of his neck, wanting to have as many points of contact as possible with him. He continued kissing your neck, up to your ear and down to your shoulder. 

You wanted to be concerned about how late it was, he had gotten home only thirty minutes ago, after being away for four days. You knew he must be exhausted, you saw the fresh healing bruises on his arms and torso when he disrobed earlier. You wanted to help him relax however you could, allow him to turn off his busy genius’ brain for a while and just feel good. You lifted your top leg slightly, his now engorged cock slipped against your other thigh, and closed your legs again, encasing him between your legs. Kakashi shuddered a groan out against your neck, burying his head further into the juncture between your throat and shoulder. 

“Thank you.” he mumbled, so grateful to be understood so wordlessly by you. 

He hadn't even had to ask but you had read his mind. He wanted the mindless, thoughtless expressions of intimacy that he had only ever known with you. Acts so primal that they held no space for thought or distraction. It gave him a break from how loud his mind usually was, his hips moved on their own to slide against your dampening pussy. Your slick was coating your outer lips and inner thighs, giving him a perfectly lubricated gap to fuck himself into. You loved him like this, so mindlessly desperate for you. You may be the only person in the world to have ever seen him like this. You blushed at the thought. He whimpered and grunted against you, moving his hips faster between your thighs. You felt every inch of his shaft sliding against your slit, his fingers clenching the flesh of your hip; clean, trimmed fingernails leaving crescent shaped impressions in the skin. 

“Baby please…can I? Please, love?” His voice was husky and rough, his lips dampening the skin of your neck. 

His nose was filled with your smell, your hair was in his face, your legs were so tight and wet around him, he needed to cum so badly. His every thought was about you, how good you were to him. How lucky he was to find someone like you. How much he loved you. He was becoming drunk on the feel of you, the smell of your perfume, your shampoo. He could smell himself on you, his laundry soap, the earthy soap in your shared shower.  Feeling you nod finally, Kakashi bit into your pulse point, his long canine teeth burying themselves into your flesh. You gasped at the sensation, your back arching pressing your ass back to meet his thrusts. His movements were becoming frantic and jerky, his building orgasm turning his brain to mush. The build erupted on itself, his teeth bearing down on your neck even harder, long white ropes of cum spurted from his cock, coating your legs and the sheets in front of you. He had been so pent up, it seemed that he would never stop spilling out. A pool of his cum gathered in front of you, you fought down the sense of jealousy, longing to have his cum buried deep inside of you rather than spilled on top of and beside you. But you’d have your chance soon, he needed this. And you were happy to be what he needed. 

Kakashi stilled his hips, releasing his clamp on your neck and he licked the raw spot, already starting to bruise. He should feel apologetic, but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but pride, the way you panted in his arms, supporting his shivering body. You had been so good for him, so generous with your body, your time, your love. He loved you so much, his heart stirred in his chest as he struggled to catch his breath behind you. 

“I love you.” You sighed, gripping his arms as they wrapped around you, pawing at your breasts.

“I love you, too.” He brings his face around to where you can turn back to reach and kisses you deeply, sliding his tongue against yours, reveling in the feeling of your mouth so hot and wet for him. 

Taking his time to kiss you, relaxing after his efforts, Kakashi finally roused himself to change the bed sheets and you cleaned your legs up in the bathroom. By the time you returned to the bedroom he was covering the bed in the comforter once more, tucking it in the sides and pulling it back so you could get in. He slid in next to you, still naked, the new sheets cool against his flushed skin. You laid on your back, Kakashi opting to lay his head in your chest and wrap his hands around your waist. Every once in a while he would press wet, open mouthed kisses to the outer flesh of your breasts, or the space in between. His mind (and balls) finally empty, he could feel sleep descending quickly as it always did when he was with you. Your hands moving through his silver hair were a tactile lullaby, pulling him deeper and deeper into his dream. You started to nod off above him as well, his heart beat syncing to yours. Tomorrow morning there would be work and reports and lessons and reassignments, but tonight there was just the two of you. 

#kakashi smut #kakshi hatake #kakashi x you #kakashi x reader #naruto fanfiction #naruto smut #kakashi hatake #kakashi sensei #thighs #outercourse #bedroom

[topperscumslut]

Broken (Randy Meeks x Fem!Reader with Vaginismus)

PLEASE READ: Guys I’m super proud to announce I’ve written my first vaginismus friendly smut (with none other than Scream’s Randy Meeks)!!!!! For those of you that don’t know, vaginismus is a disorder where the pelvic floor muscles involuntary contract which makes vaginal (and often anal) penetration painful at best and impossible at worst. This is a condition I’ve struggled with for YEARS and have used reading and writing smut with penetration to cope and live out those fantasies that I can’t have irl (I’ve recently started treatment and am about to start pelvic floor physical therapy so hopefully I can have sex with my long distance gf this summer lol). I wanted to write this for my fellow AFABs with vaginismus (or really anyone who’s interested in reading it and/or learning more) and I just watched the newest Scream movie and have started hyperfixating on the whole franchise again and am FERALLY horny for Randy so um… here this is ig?

Description: Sidney, Billy, Tatum, and Stu are talking about their sex lives which makes Randy and Y/N feel a bit insecure due to being the virgins of the group… though the reason runs a bit deeper for Y/N. (Also the murders don’t happen in this story which means Maureen Prescott is alive and well and since yk cause and effect therefore Sidney doesn’t have issues with intimacy like she does in the film so her and Billy are sexually active so um ya) Randy and reader are clearly in love with each other but everyone can tell but them lol.

Content/warnings: both smut and fluff (kinda hurt/comfort). mentions of penetration but none included. mentions of vaginismus. handjobs and coochie touching (how tf else do i describe it cuz it’s not fingering???). oral (both AFAB and AMAB receiving). innocence kink, hair pulling, slight begging. Randy worshipping your body lmao. not proofread cuz it’s 6am.

Word count: 2k

It was a normal day at Woodsboro High School, just six best friends talking and laughing as per usual; Sidney laying in Billy’s lap, Stu with his arm around Tatum, and you and Randy sitting awkwardly off to the side, both oblivious to the way you’re mutually trying to move oh so subtly closer to each other to the point that Randy’s body is nearly touching yours.

“Hey, Tate,” Sidney speaks up, “where were you guys last night? The four of us went out and tried to reach you two but didn’t get an answer.”

“Stu and I were… busy,” Tatum says with a blush, biting her lip.

“Oh yeah we were!” Stu laughs, pulling Tatum closer and sticking his tongue out teasingly.

“Oh God, gross,” Randy groans, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, it’s no biggie, right Sid?” Billy flinches as Sidney lightly hits his arm at his comment, now blushing herself. “It’s natural, we all do it. It’s not our fault you’re a virgin-”

“C’mon Billy, don’t be a dick,” Tatum sighs, “Randy’s just a little more shy than the rest of us. Nothing wrong with that.”

No one had picked up on the fact that you had been uncomfortably silent this whole conversation. No one but Randy at least.

“I-I should probably get going, you guys,” you mutter, picking up your stuff and turning to walk away, attempting to hold back the tears forming in your eyes. “Don’t wanna be late to class. See you guys later?”

“Yeah, see you later Y/N!” Tatum says with a sweet smile before turning to the others after you’d left. “What the hell was that about?”

Randy was wondering the same thing, which is why he went out of his way to find you after class while the others met up at Tatum’s locker.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!”

“Oh, hey Randy!” you smile at your crush, pleasantly surprised to see him, “what’s up?”

“I, uh, just wanted to check in on you. You seemed a little off today at lunch. You okay?”

“Yeah…” you reply, though your tone of voice betrays you and Randy can see your demeanor become more closed off. “I’m all good.”

“Okay, cool,” Randy says, not quite believing you but also not wanting to pry. “Do you wanna come over to my place for a bit?”

You blush a bit, excited at the fact that Randy wanted to spend more time with you one on one. “Yeah, I’d really love that!”

You sit in silence for a couple minutes in the car. Usually with Randy the silence is more comfortable rather than awkward, but not today, as he could tell that there was something wrong.

“Look, I know it gets a little awkward when they talk about the sex stuff, particularly Stu with how vulgar he gets. Trust me, I get it, especially being the only virgin of the group,” he says with a forced, shameful smile.

“Yeah, about that…” you sigh awkwardly, nervously scratching your neck.

“Wait, what?”

You shake your head. “Nevermind. Forget it.”

“No, tell me Y/N,” Randy replies, sheepishly placing a hand on your knee which activates something inside of you. “What’s up, for real this time?”

“Well…” you trail off, slightly shocked that you’re getting into this with your best friend who happens to double as the boy of your dreams. “I’m a virgin too, you know.”

“Very funny, Y/N,” Randy chuckles, brushing off your comment.

You laugh a bit in response. “What, is that so shocking? You calling me a slut, Meeks?”

“Oh my God, no! I didn’t mean to-” Randy stutters turning beet red, “I mean, fuck… you’re gorgeous. I would’ve never thought… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I was just joking, don’t worry! I didn’t actually think you were saying that,” you giggle. “And seriously, have you ever seen me talk about sex with the rest of them?”

“I guess not, now that you mention it…” Randy shakes his head. “But I guess I just figured that was because unlike the others you aren’t in a relationship. I just never imagined you would- I mean look at me, it’s kind of obvious, but look at you,” Randy can hardly keep his eyes on the road as he turns to admire you, his gaze lingering on your lips. “I mean, surely you’ve had the chance.”

“I mean I have, and it’s not that I haven’t done some things, it’s just…” you shake your head.

“Hey, s’okay,” Randy says, slowly rubbing circles on your knee with his thumb, causing a growing wetness between your legs and butterflies in your stomach, “you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“No, I think I actually do want to. It’s just I have this… condition.” Randy’s eyebrow quirks up in curiosity. “I just, I can’t have sex. Or, well, not sex sex, as society thinks of it. The muscles down there just… tense up. Nothing can go in. So no sex, no fingering, no tampons. It’s fucking miserable.” You laugh uncomfortably, trying to lighten the mood. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m telling my guy best friend about my broken vagina!”

“Hey!” Randy speaks up, “don’t say that. You’re not broken. And any guy who’s bothered by this condition is a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve you.”

“I know, I guess. It’s just hard, when the others talk about their great, perfect sex lives all the time and I just feel like I’m sort of defective. And even you, I mean, sure you haven’t had sex but you’re at least physically capable of it.”

“Yeah, just not socially,” Randy chuckles. “Not one girl wants to have sex with me.”

“Or more, the one that does physically can’t,” you mutter under your breath.

“What was that?” Randy asks, locking eyes with you as he pulls into the driveway.

“N-nothing,” you stutter, taken aback as he leans over and presses his lips to yours.

You’re a bit shocked at first, albeit in a good way, but soon grasp what’s happening and passionately kiss him back, knotting your hands in his hair and lightly pulling which causes him to moan softly in your mouth. He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you.

“I don’t care if I can’t be inside of you. You’re perfect the way you are, and you’re not broken. Fuck anyone who says otherwise. I don’t give a shit what we can or can’t do, I’m going to make you feel so good,” he looks down sheepishly, surprised at his sudden confidence, “with your consent, of course.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Of course I consent, doofus! Have you seriously not noticed me nearly soaking through my panties for you for months now?”

“In that case,” Randy says, giving you another small peck. “You’re mine tonight.”

He leads you into his house where luckily his family is gone, opening the door for you with a “m’lady,” which makes you giggle and blush before taking your hand and leading you up to his bedroom.

“Just tell me if there’s anything you don’t want to do, and stop me if you feel uncomfortable, mkay?” Randy asks, running his hands up and down your body and you nod.

You couldn’t help but find yourself attracted to Randy’s innocence. Sure, you were technically a virgin, but had done other stuff with guys before, most of which who left because you wouldn’t (or more, couldn’t) put out. But Randy on the other hand had never even been touched by a woman before. Something about that was incredibly sexy.

He looks at you for permission to which you nod before he pulls your shirt up over your head, admiring your breasts in your lacy bra. You unhook your bra as Randy talks off his own shirt and takes in the beautiful sight of your bare chest, eyes widening.

“Oh my fucking God…” he whispers, awestruck by your voluptuous breasts, taking them into his hand and lightly pinching your nipples, making you whine in pleasure.

Randy meets your eyes with a newfound confidence you’ve never seen in him before. “You’re so fucking horny for me, aren’t you babygirl?”

You nod sheepishly, blushing. “I need you so badly Randy.”

He takes your left breast into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your nipple which draws a couple lewd moans out of your mouth before switching to the right one. This continues for a couple moments before you pause him.

“Randy, stop,” you say, pulling his mouth away from your tits.

“What’s up?” he asks, saliva hanging from his lips, “did I do something wrong?”

You shake your head. “No. It’s just you deserve to feel good too.”

“O-okay,” he mutters shyly as you start to unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down before removing your own, leaving you both in your underwear.

You start to palm him through his patterned boxers, eliciting soft groans of ecstasy from him.

“That feel good?” you ask.

“Y-yes,” Randy sighs, head falling back in pleasure. You look at him for permission before unleashing his cock from his boxers and slowly massaging the length of it as he bites his lip from the sensation.

“F-fuck, more,” he moans as you speed up.

“If you insist,” you say with a smirk, taking him into your mouth and sucking lightly.

You begin to take him deeper into your throat, generously licking and sucking his shaft as he moans and whimpers with pleasure. He wraps his fingers in your hair, gently tugging which only arouses you more. Due to his inexperience, it isn’t long before he cums down your throat with a loud moan of relief.

“Holy fuck,” Randy pants. “You were amazing at that. Now if you don’t mind, it’s my turn to return the favor,” he says with a cheesy wink.

Randy kisses his way up and down your body before focusing once again on your plentiful chest, licking and sucking your tits which causes you to whimper out his name.

“Randy?” you whine.

“Yes babygirl?”

“My-my pussy needs you.”

“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, “telling me what you want.” He reaches down suddenly, rubbing torturously slow circles into your clit through your panties.

After a couple minutes of you begging, he slowly removes your panties, continuing to massage your clit.

Damn, you think, for having literally no experience, he sure knows his way around a clitoris.

Randy once again looks at you for permission before laying you down on his bed and spreading your legs, eagerly putting his face between them.

“You sure you want this?”

“Yes, fuck, just please Randy!”

Your consent is all he needs before he’s shoving his face in your pussy, licking a stripe up your folds before sucking and licking your throbbing clit.

You can barely stand the pleasure as Randy licks up and down your vulva, sucking harshly on your clit. His mouth is so warm and wet on you, it sends you into waves of ecstasy you’ve never felt before. You feel your orgasm fast approaching as Randy devours your aching clit and throw your head back in pleasure.

“Randy! Fuck, I’m close!”

He barely removes his mouth from you, keeping his tongue on your sensitive nub as he demands “cum for me,” the vibration of his voice on your pussy sending you over the edge.

You cum hard on his tongue, overtaken by the sweet relief. Randy pulls you back up from the bed where you can barely move from how good he made you feel so that you’re both sitting up facing each other, both still naked.

“Did I do okay for my first time?” he asks.

“You did perfect!” you reassure him, kissing him sweetly.

“Hey, we may not have been able to take each other’s virginity yet…” you say, “but how does eventually sound to you?”

His face lights up with joy. “Do you mean-”

“Yeah, Randy. I want you to be my boyfriend. I’ve liked you since I first met you.”

“I’d love that,” he smiles, kissing you again.

The two of you spend the night kissing, cuddling, and watching (and critiquing) horror movies until you fall asleep in Randy’s arms, dreaming of doing it all again the next day.

#scream #randy meeks #scream 1996 #scream franchise #jamie kennedy #randy scream #vaginismus #outercourse

[nasuversekinkmeme]

Summary:

Ever since her creation, the flames follow Jeanne Alter everywhere; the sheer trauma of her experiences evoking pain from even the slightest of touches against her bare skin. Isolating herself from others as a result, her fantasies and manga serve as her main escape. Left frustrated and despondent from an unfortunate turn of events regarding her sparkling, holy alternate self, she seeks her favorite 'contradiction' out for a good old vent- Saber Alter. In which Jeanne Alter is touch starved, yet cannot stand being touched by others- so Saber Alter showcases to her the mighty wonders behind the vibrator!

[original prompt]

#fill #fgo #jalter #salter #smut #femslash #outercourse #toys

[entropicinvert]

i have this vision that won't get out of having just comically intense outercourse through jeans with someone. been working all day in the sun and sweaty and dirty and just humping and rubbing the night away. the clothes stay on, wanting and needing is better than release. grrarrrroowwww

#outercourse #nsft #denial kink #question mark?

[derireo-galge]

Impact Play | 2,1k | yoonmin✍🏼

Yoongi and Jimin de-stress from the pressure of upcoming schedules.

spanking | hyung kink | dom/sub | established relationship

It's been a long day in the studio.

After adding some finishing touches and saving all his current work, Yoongi closed everything and gathered his belongings.

The sun began to set when he exited the company building in the underground parking. He could feel the scent of spring permeating the air even from here.

The aroma of young flowers felt revitalizing after a hard day of fruitful efforts.

He couldn't wait to get home and hop in a contrasting shower and just relax waiting for Jimin.

That he did. He was reading a book, when the door to his bedroom opened and a tired looking younger appeared with his hair still wet from the shower he must have just taken.

- Hi sweetness, - he said approaching his hyung. Bending down to land a soft peck on his cheek he noticed the other started turning pink from the blush.

- Hi love, - he murmured blinking his eyes slowly and smiling back at him, - How was your workout? He patted a spot on the bed next to him and Jimin sat down, hands circling around Yoongi's broad shoulders immediately.

- It was good, - the younger drawled, - a bit exhausting but I feel so much better now, - he casted a sidelong glance at the elder. He looked so domestic, almost drowning in one of his favourite homewear, cast in the soft bedroom lights with his reading glasses perched on his nose.

To be honest, they were giving him those dad/teacher vibes Jimin likes to tease him about. - Have you been stressed lately? - the producer asked, carefully tucking away wet locks of hair from his boyfriend's face with his delicate fingers.

- Mm, - the younger leaned into those touches, - Not greatly...maybe? - now that he thinks about it, maybe the tiredness have been building up for a while.

And even though the stress from the upcoming schedules wasn't as bad as it used to but still. It wasn't a walk in the park.

Seeing the thought process on his lover’s face, the elder put the book away and turned to face him fully. - Want us to de-stress tonight? - he accentuated his question with a kiss and a nuzzle into the younger’s neck, - Forget the pressure for a while?

- Y-yeah, - Jimin felt his throat getting parched and gulped heavily, - Want that. - Yeah? - Yoongi asked expectantly and the younger felt the familiar notes in that question.

- Yes, Hyung, - he answered airily.

- Good, - he put his hand on the back of the slender neck, warm and reassuring, - What's your colour, Minnie? - Green, Hyung, - he said with a small smile.

- Good, kitten, - the switch was smooth but Jim!n still felt the blood rushing to his cheeks and butterflies fluttering in his belly, - Now, why don't you take this robe off and come back to sit on my bed prettily, hm? His boyfriend's cheeks were red and he was smiling wide when he got up to do just as requested.

He went to the bathroom to hang the robe there and check himself in the mirror.

After giving himself a thorough once-over an idea popped in his head. He opened the drawer where he kept his beauty products and some trinkets and fished out a collar he ordered some time ago but never had a chance to try on yet.

It was fairly simple, not too thin, not too wide, perfectly complimenting his neck, made out of soft but sturdy black leather.

It had silver buckle in the front with a custom made tag in a shape of a guitar pick and three letters engraved on the front and other three on the back.

PJM and MYG. He felt the familiar stirring in his lower abdomen just at the thought of wearing something with their names on it.

Jimin put it on, fastening not to tightly but snuggly as he liked it.

He looked at himself once more and was satisfied with the expanse of naked lotioned skin. Yoongi didn't specify to be fully naked, just asked to take off the robe. He thinks his hyung will like this little surprise. When he walked back into the bedroom, his boyfriend was already waiting for him, standing next to the bed, wearing the same black oversized sweatshirt, arms crossed, looking back at him expectantly. His eyes paused on the younger’s neck and that's when they lit up with desire, became sharp and narrowed.

Jimin could see it almost broke his Hyung's composure as he studied it in more details as his lover was approaching him. Jimin kneeled on the bed in front of him with hands placed on his knees.

He straightened his shoulders and neck, showcasing his new accessory, looking up at his Hyung.

- Look at you, sitting so prettily for me, Minnie, - the elder rasped, cupping Jim!ns jaw, - Let me look at you some more. What is this pretty thing? - he touched the collar, gently inserting his pointer finger between the leather band and the soft skin of his lover’s throat, giving it a gentle tug.

- Ah, - the dancer couldn't hold back a quiet surprised moan at this. - It's something I had custom made for me recently. The engravings took a long time because I couldn't choose a perfect font but I managed eventually, - he smiled sweetly. He could see his boyfriend studying both sides of the silver tag, mouth hanging open, one hand still holding onto the collar and another gripping his own forearm, knuckles white.

He almost giggled, his hyung was so easily affected and he felt proud of himself. - It looks gorgeous on you, sweetheart, - Yo0ngi rasped, gaze trailing to the younger’s own eyes, a silent promise burning in them.

Jimin smiled contentedly in return and waited patiently. Yoongi caressed his hair, trailing down to his sharp jawline, tracing the dips in his neck and grazing the collarbones with blunt fingernails.

He heard the younger’s breath hitching and asked softly:

- Now tell me what you'd like, kitten, - he saw Jimin starting to blush again, all the way down his face and neck and starting to fiddle with his cute fingers.

He half regretted not asking to wear a sweater or hoodie of his so he could admire those sweater paws. He thought those paws were one of the most precious things to ever exist.

Just like their owner. Jimin hummed as if thinking when in fact he already decided what he wanted for tonight.

He was a bit nervous and it didn't go unnoticed.

- Yoongi then cupped his face with both hands and hushed him softly:

- Whatever is it you want, Hyung will provide, kitten, don't be shy. Jimin smiled gratefully and stretched his hand to grab onto the belt of the elders jeans.

His lover hummed in understanding.

- Okay, kitten, come here.

He leaned closer and their lips met in a slow passionate kiss. Yoongi glided his palms all the way down to Jimin's hands and guided them to the buckle of his belt.

His lover understood the silent request and began unfastening it.

Still eloped in a wet messy kiss, he pulled it through the loops and offered it to his Hyung. - Good boy, - he said between sucking on the warm plush lips, - Now go on, get ready for me.

Jimin whined and hurriedly placed a pillow under his pelvis before lowering himself across the bed, which pulled a chuckle out of the elder. - My eager Minnie, - he murmured, caressing the supple flesh of his naked buttocks, - Colour?

- It's green, Hyung, - Jimin sighed and coosed his eyes in anticipation.

First he kept feeling the soft touches and then he felt the first lick of the belt on his bare skin. - Ngh, - he choked down the moan. It wasn't very hard, only surprising, even though he craved for it.

Yoongi waited a little and swung his belt again.

It landed on Jimin's assckeeks with a crack and it seemed so loud in otherwise quiet room.

The younger’s breathing quickened. He could hear blood rushing in his ears.

His Hyung's pace was slow, as it usually was in the beginning.

After landing about ten solid swats on his reddening cheeks, Jimin started squirming. His now fully hard cock was trapped between his abdomen and the pillow, he could feel precome already leaking out of it.

He wanted to grind down hard and fast but he knew it will be so much better I the end if he paced it. Yoongi must have noticed the movements because the next moment his deep voice sounded from above:

- You're so sensitive, darling. Aren't you so pretty when you're excited? - He put the belt down and started giving the marked skin featherlight touches. Want me to hold you down, sweetheart? - he placed his palm on Jimin's lower back, applying just the right amount of pressure to steady the younger but not enough to make it hurt.

- Okay? - he asked and saw Jimin quietly nodding. He raised the belt and landed a few more swats in a rapid succession that made his lover release a staccato of loud whines.

He tried moving from side to side to get more of the delicious friction but his Hyung's big hand was holding him down securely. Yoongi breathed in such out steadily and deeply.

His own cock was straining in his jeans and underwear and he craved to stroke it to relieve some pressure, but he could withstand some discomfort for his boyfriend's pleasure.

He knew how much the other needs it, both of them do. - Yellow, - Jimin moaned after another row of spanks.

Yoongi immediately stopped but kept the pressure of his hand.

Jimin felt like he was floating, a fuzzy feeling like his head was full of cotton or like he was in an airplane taking off.

His eyes were teary but he was good. Pleasure and pain were mixing deliciously, making him take big gulps of air.

He felt his Hyung lifting him up in a kneeling position and welcomed the warmth of his firm chest on his back.

He heard the fabric moving and soon he was pressed to it again, a naked one this time. It was even warmer like that, safe.

The strong arms were hugging him tightly, one across the chest and another squeezing his dainty waist, moving up and down in soothing firm motions. - You good darling? Breathe slower - Yoongi whispered directly in his ear, landing small pecks on his sweat covered neck.

- Yeah, - the dancer sighed and giggled airily, - maybe too good for a moment there, - he turned his face to the side, - Kiss? That Yoongi did.

He held his lover carefully and tight, kissing slowly, whispering praises and compliments, making him laugh quietly.

- Better now? - his hands wandered lower to the prominent v-line, - Want me to take care of you? Jimin turned to face his hyung:

- Let's take care of each other, hmm? They laid down on the sheets, facing each other.

Yoongi grabbed a bottle of lube, squirted a generous amount on his hands and warmed it up a little between his fingers.

He took a hold of both their fully hard cocks, spreading it evenly. Jimin sighed in relief after not being touched properly for a while.

His hands glided along the elder's shaft down to cup his balls and fondle them gently.

He lifted his face and saw Yoongi looking at him with twinkling eyes.

- Will you pleasure us darling? - he drawled, putting one hand on the back of Jim!n's neck and getting a hold of the collar.

He placed the other on the younger’s hip to help moving steadily.

- Yes, love, - he said and that's how the other knew the shift happened and they were out of the scene.

Small careful fingers were gripping and squeezing their slathered dicks intermittently while they exchanged lewd kisses and hungrily licked into each other's mouths. When their breathing grew labored and they were nearing their peaks, Yoongi gently pulled on the collar, making it a bit tighter around Jimin's neck.

His boyfriend moaned lowly and increased the pace of his hands gliding up and down, hips rocking in the tight rings of fingers. They came not long one after another moaning and whispering in each other's lips, licking up the words that were falling out almost unconsciously. Jim!n came to his senses tangled in Yoongi's embrace, with the elder's head tucked in his neck, breathing calmed down.

He nosed at the long black strands of hair, relishing in his lover's musky scent. - You're the best, hyung, - he heard Yoongi chuckling at his words.

- As you are, sweetheart, - he answered softly, - Shower?

As they were laid later, tucked away in the fresh sheets, surrounded by the familiar scents, warm and lathered in all kinds of aftercare products, they felt the tension slipping away, leaving peace and content within.

They kept finding home in each other's soft lips and touches again and again until the sleep claimed them.

~end

#ai-ee au #yoonmin #bts au fic #bts fanfction #yoonmin au #switch yoonmin #ai-ee au yoonmin outercourse

[hillsofuhhtennessee]

Man I have been consumed by the thought of a big, soft 90s-era Velvet. Still cruel and erratic but less physically active because they’ve never been 100% since being put back together after the dam fall. Still veeery physically indulgent and even more demanding since they generally need more physical assistance with things.

#I’m gonna write some slow lazy outercourse fic with them #Kind of limited in terms of positioning but can make due with hands and their mouth for a lot of stuff #for plot flexibility reasons I have them like 80% back or so. still mobile and no permanent paralysis but tires easily #can’t lift things with one arm and the other is often sore from overuse compensating #Pretty unrealistic for them to get out with that little permanent damage but i’ve taken bits and pieces from real cases

[brimstone-cowboy]

@evenom you’re so right for this.

#it was deep in those scurvy times outercourse mostly James has got holes in him but they are nonviable at this time

[runa-falls]

something new

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+)

cw: smut, afab!reader, fluff :3, grinding/dry humping, pussy-job, creampie, 'outercourse', soft boyfriend!mig

w/c: ~2k

a/n: rewrite of my old fic bc i need it with miguel. if you read it before ignore it ;^) mig looks like this fanart by @xynnoix

----

You’re lounging on the sofa, legs resting in Miguel's lap and sitting in comfortable silence, when you decide to proposition him.

“I saw this video online and…I wanna try something with you.” He briefly looks up from his spider-pad, attention perked at your soft-spoken voice.

You beam at him from across the couch, an innocent smile slapped on your face as your lashes bat nicely against the tops of your cheeks.

Miguel simply shakes his head dismissively, “Cariño, we’re not doing any more MMA techniques.” He swiftly turns his attention back to his work, pointedly ignoring your childish pout. “You got hurt last time, remember?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, “First, I didn’t even twist my ankle during the match! I literally slipped down the stairs when we left the training area. Secondly, that’s not even what I’m talking about!” 

“Ok, then what is it? WWE moves?” He asks teasingly, eyes still focused on the screen.

“Actually…I wanna try outercourse-- i-is that how you say it?” You talk about it so casually that he doesn't even realize what you’re saying until he plays it back in his head a few times. The finger that was working through several urgent emails slows down as you continue to ramble. 

“...Like pussy-jobs and grinding, I think. I don’t exactly know the technical terms that are involved, but it looked hot–” Your voice tapers off when you realize he’s looking at you.

His darkened gaze concentrates on your thighs that are unintentionally rubbing together as you recall your new interest. 

You know that look. His glaze-over eyes, furrowed brows, and tense body mean one thing: he’s interested too. 

Despite how worked up he is, Miguel manages to gently place his tablet on a side table before slowly wrapping his fingers around your ankles on his lap.

“So you want me to fuck you without actually fucking you?” 

“Y-yes...?”

He hums, turning his whole body to face you.

He fluidly pulls your body down to lay flat on the couch in front of him, barely leaving any room for him to sit. You feel his hand tap the side of your thigh.

“Open up for me, baby.”

Your loose shorts hike up your thighs as you obediently spread your legs for him, kneesbending to make space for him to scoot closer to you. The pale pink fabric displays a dark splotch over your center, evidence of your arousal and lack of underwear underneath. Miguel tauntingly raises an eyebrow when he notices.

“Aw, is your pussy already leaking for me?” Your breath stutters as he lightly glides his finger over your covered cunt.

“J-just a little.” Your thighs threaten to close when you feel him prod shallowly against your entrance. He groans, noticing how his movements encourage your slick to soak through the flimsy fabric of your shorts. 

You whine as you feel him pull away.

“Such a juicy slut for me.” He rasps, pushing himself closer to you so his head hangs over yours. Your head swims when you breathe in his comforting scent, he's so close, but you need him closer. Your body instinctively attempts to press up against him.

“Gimme a kiss, cariño.” 

You immediately obey, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs over his waist, effectively pulling his warmth into your space. He leans in and gently brushes his lips against yours, taking time to breathe you in as your gaze locks with his. 

A breath is caught between you as you gaze into each other’s eyes, drinking each micro-expression on your face. Miguel lets out a soft sigh, "You're gorgeous."

And the intense mood breaks. 

You pull away to lightly giggle into his chest, a soft blush blooming from the edge of your neck to the tops of your cheeks. He matches your smile, watching with amused eyes as you react to his flattery.

Somehow he can still make you feel unbearably giddy despite the months you’ve been dating. 

You look back up with a crooked smile, “You’re pretty too, Spider-Man.” 

Miguel dips his head in and captures your lips in his. He’s gentle at first, slowly savoring your lips with small nips and caresses. He runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of your bottom lip, trailing a line over the sensitive skin, then pushing further against your mouth.

You whine when he licks into your mouth, coaxing your tongue to mingle with him, to taste your mixed flavor of lust.

Your back arches when he presses a finger flush against your throbbing clit. it simultaneously sends warm ecstasy down your legs and up your spine, and you can feel your center pulsing, craving more. 

Miguel leaves your mouth as he moves further up the couch to fit himself between your thighs. His forearms support his weight next to your shoulders as he gently lets his hips rest against yours. You can already feel his stiff cock twitching persistently between your bodies.

“Is this okay?” He asks, voice husky as he considers you under him.

Your eyes blearily blink up at him before you give him a shy nod, already looking thoroughly fucked out with your mussed hair and pink lips. He experimentally pushes down against you and starts to grind himself into your body with controlled strokes. 

The rough texture of his jeans digs deliciously into your softness, barely subdued by the thin fabric of your shorts. Pleasure zips up your spine as he involuntarily ruts against your clit with each shove of his hips. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to smother your cries into his skin.

“This what you wanted?” He growls, body hot and heavy against yours. 

You feel yourself grow infinitely wetter, warmth spreading over your inner thighs. You whine as he twitches against you, your body hypersensitive to everything around you.

“Mm, fuck.” He feels your slick slowly travel through the thickness of his jeans. 

He can barely hear your wrecked voice over the sound of his jeans rubbing over you and the couch rocking against the wooden floors.

“Wait.” 

His hips stutter to a stop, “Wait?” Miguel's eyes look worried as he searches your face, wondering if something went wrong.

“I-I just want more.” You bite your lip nervously as you stare back at him, feeling guilty that you scared him.

The tension in his body slacks quickly, like cool water rushing down his back. “More?”

You nod sheepishly, “Uh-huh.” 

He climbs off of you and kneels on the floor to your side, “Ok, can you show me?” His voice is soft and patient as he speaks to you.

He watches as you shove your hips upwards to tug off your shorts before throwing them to the side. You do the same with your tank top, then settle back into the couch cushions.

Your legs squeeze together as your sensitive nipples tighten when exposed to the cool air. You look over at Miguel who’s admiring your bare body next to you, “You too.” He immediately pulls off his shirt and shoves down his jeans before rejoining you. 

Miguel kneels on the couch and pushes your legs up to reveal your dripping pussy, leaking messily from your rutting session a few minutes ago. He slaps himself over your warmth, spreading your slick over your cunt and watching it drip down to your ass.

“Such a pretty pussy.”

Before you know what’s happening, he positions himself against your entrance and tries to push into your cunt, tip slowly slipping into you with ease. He groans as your cunt instinctively sucks him in, walls fluttering as he begins to stretch you. 

 “No–wait, that’s not what we’re doing!” You simultaneously scoot away and squeeze your legs together once you catch on to what’s happening. 

“What-”

“Outside, Mig, remember? Only outside.” You push up and lean against the couch arm, hair poofed adorably around you. “Here, I’ll show you. Lay down where I was.” You direct, moving off the couch to give him enough room.

“Okay.” He takes your place, cock bobbing with his movements as it stays desperately hard for you. You bite your lip as your eyes trace the happy trail that graces his lower stomach. God, he's delicious.

You straddle yourself over his hips, admiring how delectable he looks below you, hot and ready for you to climb on. He watches you with anticipation as you position yourself his erection that rests against his stomach. 

His breath hitches when you sit your full weight onto him, the pressure makes him throb against the seam of your cunt. You experimentally rub yourself against the silken skin of his cock, barely holding yourself up on your knees to make it easier to move. He groans as you spread your warmth over his cock and the bottom of his muscled torso. 

“So wet for me, baby.” He looks up at you with heavy eyes, his top lip barely covering his protruded fangs. His hand squeezes the top of your thigh when you lock eyes.

A small piece of your hair sways over his forehead with each movement of your hips. As you grind over him, the head of his cock nudges delectably against your clit causing you to clench around nothing every time it hits you.

You pathetically puff out breaths as your stomach tightens in heat, eyes already threatening to roll to the back of your head. Lewd wet sounds lick between your bodies as you fluidly slick yourself against him.

Your thighs shake as you get closer to the edge, hips slowing down as the white-hot pleasure ripples through your body. Miguel licks his lips and takes initiative, canting his hips upwards in sync with yours, slipping himself more firmly against you.

He pulls your arms off of his chest and gathers them behind your back. Your spine arches prettily for him, ass stuck out behind you. In this position, you’re forced to surrender yourself to every push of his hips and slip of his cock.

It’s electrifying. You cry out when your orgasm pulls you under its firey wave. Your thighs clench around his hips as your body trembles above him. The sparks refused to flicker off as Miguel continues to rut against you, body tenses as he meets his end as well.

He thrusts one final glide of his cock through the soaked petals of your cunt before abruptly pushing into you, overwhelming your senses with the painfully exquisite sensation of being stretched all at once.

He growls as your warmth wraps around him, fluttering prettily as he shoves himself deep inside.

He stutters inside of you, pushing himself incredibly deep inside of you as he cums and cums, filling you to the brim. A satisfying warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach as he paints your walls, soothing your weak body as it recovers from your orgasm.

You collapse onto Miguel's body, ignoring how unbearably hot it is as your bodies try to cool down. His heart beats heavily next to yours and everything slows down. He hums under you, gently stroking a hand against your back .

You don’t know how long you lay there, enjoying each other’s company, but you're half awake by the time Miguel gets up, with you, boneless, in his arms. 

“How does a bath sound, mi vida?” You lazily look up at him as he carries you to the bathroom with ease. His voice is still so...sultry.

“Am just I weak or something?” Your voice rasps harshly, “How are you not fighting the urge to pass out right now?”

He nuzzles his face into your body, pecking a kiss against your sweat-stick throat. “I could actually go again if you'd like..."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara

[toxicanonymity]

it's hard (stepdad one shot)

3k words, stepdad!joel x f!reader

“Can I tell ya somethin'?” He whispers. “What?” You ask. He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember. 

SUMMARY: You're at their house xmas wk. WARNINGS: I8+ stepcest, angst, pining, fluff, possessive!joel, sneaking around, outercourse, unsafe p in v, mess of cum. reader can sit on him. Mood board is for mood. A/N: Title is an album by The Who.

It’s Christmas week, only a few days after your first time with Joel, and you’re staying at their house. You show up later than you said you would, and Joel has already asked where you are. The truth is, you're nervous. You’re not sure you want to have sex in their house, and you’re also not sure you can resist.  It’s too mortifying to think about getting caught. There are plenty of other places you can do it–your apartment, a motel, a car. You’re trying to be smart and slow down. 

When you show up, your mom’s car isn’t there. Joel is in the kitchen wearing his standard gray joggers, a tight white tee, and socks with coconuts on them. No shoes. He lights up when you walk in. "Hey," you mutter and he replies in kind as you close the door behind you. You survey the living room where there’s a pillow and blankets on the sofa, and you pity him for a moment.  

“Oh,” he goes over to the christmas tree and plugs in the multicolor lights. “Merry Christmas week.” You stand there with your bags, not really sure what you’re doing, or feeling. He approaches you cautiously. 

You look at each other for a few seconds until you're both comfortable that the other still feels the same way. 

“I'll take those,” Joel finally offers. As he takes the bag off your shoulder, he gives you a peck on the cheek. “Good to see you,” he mumbles. His shirt rides up as he slings the bag over his shoulder and you follow him upstairs. He glances back and teases, “Caught ya lookin’.”

Once you make it to your bedroom you ask, “where's mom?” 

“Grabbin’ dinner. Guess we’ll eat when she's back.”  He puts the bags down on your bed and steps toward you. You don’t step away. He gently pulls you into a hug. You inhale his scent as his arms wrap around you. 

The embrace lingers, and you can't ignore the warmth of his mostly-soft package pressing against you. 

You begin to whisper, “I don't think we should. . .”  trailing off when you realize you're not sure where to draw the line. Every second in his arms, you're less and less sure. 

“Okay,” Joel murmurs. He kisses you on the cheek–slower, more tender than his initial greeting. “Whatever you want,” he adds. He presses his lips into your cheek again, and they linger for a moment before he drags them away. 

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, then pull away, cheeks burning as his arms reluctantly loosen and his hands slide down, skimming your sides as you step back. 

“I'm gonna unpack,” you mutter, glancing at your luggage, cheeks warm. 

“Yeah,” Joel scratches one side of his beard. “Okay.” 

One day at a time. Have some self-control. You pull yourself away. 

He nods, looks down, and turns around to leave. His back is sooo broad.  You want to reach out and run your hand over his muscles, but you know you wouldn't stop there.

You lock the door behind him and hope it isn't too offensive. As soon as he’s out, you exhale. You lay down on your bed.  You open your nightstand drawer and your heart flutters at a box with a bow on it, and your name in his handwriting. Under it, there's a new pack of batteries. 

You wonder if he's about to jerk off, but you don't wait to find out. You close your eyes and imagine him coming back through the door, unable to resist.

—------------- 

Your Mom comes home with Thai food and the three of you sit down to dinner together. Your mom makes small talk while Joel makes a mess of the pad thai trying to serve himself. Noodles are dragging behind, tethering the pile on his plate to the main container.  Your mom bristles at this in her peripheral vision. 

“So,” your Mom puts on her best interested face and asks you,“Swipe right on anyone lately?” 

Joel scoffs silently. 

“Not many,” you answer. Every time she talks to you, your heart races like you’re about to walk into a trap. This is your own doing, and you know it. 

“How many guys are on there, anyway?”

“A lot.” 

“Can I see?”

It doesn’t even occur to you to say no. 

You open tinder and slide your phone over. “Just swipe left.” 

Joel’s chewing slows down as he stares at the dating app open on your phone. Your stomach drops.

You hadn’t used it at all this week. You would’ve deleted it if you thought about it, but you’re so used to ignoring the notifications. You look at Joel apologetically as your Mom keeps swiping left.

Joel’s nostrils flare, and his breaths become faster. He swallows and doesn’t take another bite. He taps his chopsticks on his plate. 

“Oh,” your Mom addresses you. “You know who’s single?” She looks up from your phone. Joel takes a deep breath and looks at her with his brow furrowed. 

“Harold, down the street.”

“What the hell would she want with Harold?” Joel snaps. 

Your mom chuckles. “What’s wrong with Harold?” 

Her phone rings. Joel puts his chopsticks down and clasps his hands behind his chair to stretch his back. As soon as your Mom stands up from the table, he leans forward and takes your phone. 

“What’s this about?” he asks flatly.  It’s still open to tinder. His jaw clenches. He looks into your messages. At least he can see you haven’t sent any. 

“I forgot I even had it,” you explain. 

He goes to the home screen. “Good, you won’t mind.” He holds down the app and presses uninstall.

“What else ya got?” he starts scrolling your apps.

He goes on instagram and opens a picture of you in a mildly low cut dress. He deletes it and opens another picture. His breathing is still agitated. 

“Hey,” you reach for your phone. “What the hell?” You take it from his hand. “Are you gonna act even crazier now?” 

His brow furrows and he stares at the table, then meets your eyes and swallows. “I dunno.” His face softens as he looks at you.

Then he gets pensive and asks, “What do you think of Harold?” 

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think about Harold at all.” You pocket your phone and get up from the table. 

“Wait, where ya goin’?”

“Meeting a friend for coffee.”

He’s rubbing his beard like he’s trying not to say anything, but he blurts out, “What friend?”

“Emma. . . Jesus.” 

On your way out of the neighborhood, you pass Harold’s house. It feels like every time you drive by in the daylight, he's struggling to bring some kind of delivery inside - Amazon boxes, or even donuts and iced coffee. Tonight he's sitting at his kitchen table alone, wrapping a present.

—--

When you’re at the cafe with Emma, Joel texts you, Sorry.

It’s ok, you reply. 

It's a struggle not to tell Emma what's going on, but you don't. You tell her you’re seeing someone but don't want to jinx it by saying too much.

When you get home, he’s in the kitchen casually leaning with his butt and hands against the counter.  “How ‘bout some egg nog?” 

“No thanks,” you tell him, but you linger. 

“We good?” he asks, quieter. You nod as you take off your jacket, then put it in the coat closet. 

When you turn around, he’s right in your space. His eyes are red and his hair is messier than earlier, giving you a rush of desire.

“Sorry,” he repeats and reaches for your head.

You don’t pull away.

He cradles the back of your head as he hugs you loosely. You let your hands lightly skim his hips, then wrap around him. It would be a harmless hug in a different family. Until he pulls his head back, then rubs his nose against yours. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, nostrils filling with his aftershave. Then a toilet flushes in the background, and you break apart. 

“I’m going to read,” you mumble. His fingertips skim your ass as you walk away. 

—------------- 

You’re lying in bed later, still reading, when Joel sends you a snapchat. The notification makes you tingle, but when you open it, it’s not him. It’s the TV downstairs with the title card of Krampus. You get out of bed and pad over to your mom's room. You crack the door open, and she's passed out. 

You go downstairs.

Joel is lying on his side on the sofa. You and he are wearing the same pajamas you got for Christmas last year. The Christmas tree casts the room in a dim, cozy light. 

He welcomes you under his arm. Just a little cuddling, you lie to yourself.

Without much hesitation, you settle in as a small spoon so you're both facing the tv. He runs his hand up and down your side before dangling his arm over your waist.  The bulge in his pants is barely grazing you, until you push your ass back and he inhales sharply, then cups your breast, using his forearm across your torso to bring you closer. His nose nudges your neck and you can feel him inhaling your scent. His warm package nudges your ass. It's the first time you've felt him soft, like really felt him. It's still quite a bulge.

He's not soft for long. Soon he’s lightly grinding against you, hard and getting harder as the movie quietly plays. His hand leaves your breast, skimming down your soft pajama top to its bottom hem. His fingers creep under the shirt and when they hit your bare skin, the shock of arousal has you thinking very stupid thoughts. Like, maybe you should ride him on this couch, come what may. You stop his hand from going any further up your shirt. 

His arm relaxes in defeat. 

You gently take his hand out from under your shirt and bring it near your breast, where it was. Instead, he covers your hand with his and interlaces his fingers. His thumb brushes yours at a slow rhythm, and the butterflies in your chest nearly make you forget what you're trying to resist until his cock twitches against you.

He takes his hand back only for a moment to adjust himself, then his hand returns to yours. His arm wraps tighter over you. Against your back, his chest expands with each breath. The rhythmic stroke of his thumb lulls you half-asleep. 

“Can I tell ya somethin?” He whispers. 

“What?” You ask. 

He takes a deep breath. He scoots back, making room for you to roll onto your back and look up at him. His face is serious. He takes off his glasses and reaches back to put them on the side table. His eyes are always browner than you remember. 

“I wanna do this every night,” he says. 

Your heart flutters. You turn on your side to face him. 

“I mean it,” his eyes are somber. He lays his hand on your side. He takes in a shaky breath. “I'm miserable without you.” 

“I'm right here.” 

He shakes his head. “I need all of you.” 

You look at each other for a few seconds in the light of the Christmas tree. There's not much to say. 

“Me too,” you whisper. His nose twitches and he shakes his head like you don't get it.

“What I’m tryin’ to say is. . .I’d ruin my life for you, if it wouldn't ruin yours, too.”

You read each other's eyes for a long moment.

“What life,” you whisper.

His eyes brighten. “That's how I feel.”  His gaze falls to your lips. “We’ll get a new one.” 

You want to kiss him, but don't want to end up naked. First you warn,  “I don't wanna take off any-”  

He cuts you off with his lips. They’re soft and needy. Then his hand runs down your side, over your ass, and his fingers dig into your flannel-clad thigh. You hike your knee up and wrap your leg around him. The hard shape in his pants presses right against your most sensitive place. “Mm,”  you moan softly into his mouth.

You’re throbbing for him. So turned on. His tongue slides against yours and he feeds on your mouth as he grinds against you. His dick is fat and hard and warm.

As you move against each other, pangs of pleasure dart to your nipples, your ass, your chest. He's so hard. Your body flutters on the edge of bliss but stays there. He grabs the plush of your ass, pulling you harder against him. You break the kiss with a gasp, and he latches onto your neck. 

With a push of his hips, he moans into your neck then whispers, “can't wait to be inside you again.” you throb and gush at the thought. He grinds against you a little harder, needier, but just as slow. “Fuck, you feel good.” He rolls over on his back, bringing you on top of him. Then he sits up and lifts your knees so your legs wrap around him and you hang onto his neck.

“God I wanna fuck you like this,” he whispers, holding you against him. His cock swells harder. You're throbbing madly. You card your fingers into his hair and he groans at your fingertips on his scalp. His strong arm holds you against him with his hips lifting under you. 

“Me too,” you whisper, your legs pulling yourself closer, harder. You groan softly. “Want you inside me—fuck, just like this.”

“Can ya feel it,” he asks, “ohhh–cause I still feel it–god–every time I close my eyes.” He moans as his stiff manhood twitches against you. Your clit pulses and you gasp. He covers your mouth with a kiss as you come. Everything else fades away. His lips break away with a shudder as he explodes against you through the soft flannel, pulsing hard. Your chest flutters at the feeling.

When you're both done, he lets you back onto the sofa, and resumes his position on his side. He pulls you back against him with a sigh. You're pleasantly surprised that you don't feel a bigger mess against your back.

“Shit,” he mutters after a minute.

“What?”

“‘s’not your problem.” 

“Say it.” You roll on your back to look at him.

His cheeks flush. “M’not empty.” 

Your heart skips a beat.

“Not your problem,” he repeats, but you’re already pulling down your waistband. Yeah, it’s. . .not a problem at all.

You turn on your side again, facing the tv. You reach back into his pants, and your breath hitches at the mess of cum enrobing his slowly softening dick.

“Do it,” you whisper, and tilt your hips for him.

He quickly notches his cum smeared dick at your entrance, no longer fully hard, but hard enough. He presses on your mound as he plunges into you, dividing your insides with a sigh. “Fuck,” he breathes. Your chest feels light as your body makes space for him. 

You close your eyes as he further stiffens, growing inside you, pressing against your walls. His hand slides up your top. He gropes your breast as he retreats, then bottoms out again. Within a few strokes, he’s as stiff as ever, and you’re as full as ever. 

He pauses, fully seated inside you, throbbing. He covers you both with a blanket. You're relieved there's another one beneath you. He breathes against your ear as his hand meanders under your top again. “Inside?” 

“Yeah,” You nod.  

“Where it should be,” he pants. He moans as he slowly fucks you.

“Want it all,” you beg, getting closer and closer with the tight drag of him within you.

He adjusts his position, sliding his arm under your neck so he can grope you with both hands, hugging you tight against him.

"'s'all I think about," he whispers. "Ungghhh---when I wake up---ohh--when I go to sleep."

He moans softly and his hands feel you greedily, "whenever you're ready."

“Fuck,” you whisper. He buries himself in you slow and deep. His breath is hot on your neck. You push back on him, swallowing every inch he’ll feed your drooling cunt. He buries his mouth and nose against your head. The Christmas lights are blurry in the corner of your eye.

“Feel so perfect,” he pants. He rubs your clit and you still his hand. He withdraws part way and pauses with his tip nudging just the right spot. He just barely rocks his hips, staying right there, rubbing over it, not letting up.

You gasp and tighten with tension, then sigh as you gush on him.

“Yeah,” he pants, presses your mound for leverage, and bottoms out as you choke his cock.

He sighs and begins to pulse with even more power than you remember. A huge burst of warmth, followed by a smaller twitch, another massive burst, a slow thrust. It keeps coming, and so do you. His breaths are heavy against you, his stomach flexing into your back as he empties his load. You're overflowing with cum. Your climax wanes, and he's still pulsing even once he's dry.

It finally stops, and he rests inside.

-

You catch your breath, and the smell of sex hangs so heavy in the air that dread bubbles in your chest. You pull yourself forward, letting his cock fall out.

“Shit,” you mutter at the mess between your legs. You pull your pants up. He squeezes your hip affectionately as you sit up.

He sits up on his elbow and tucks away his worn out cock. He takes a deep breath and searches your eyes.

You don't know what to say. You reach back to feel the blanket – soaked. “This is. . .we can’t do this again.”

He whispers your name, sits up and rests one hand on your back, one on your thigh. His chest is heaving like he's waking up from a nightmare. “What happened,” he whispers. “Talk to me.”

“Here. We can't do this here.”

He sighs and swallows. “Okay,” he whispers. “Sorry.”

“You know how to use the washer, right?”

“Yeah. I've got it. Of course.”

You take off your pajama bottoms.

“You okay ?” He asks.

You nod. You yearn to lay with him, but you’re also compelled to leave that room.

You read his face and the worry on it makes your heart hurt.

“It's okay,” you whisper, then kiss him good night. It's a long, soft kiss, and he doesn't want to let you go. “It’s okay, I promise,” you assure him.

You creep up the stairs pantsless. The air is cool on the cum between your thighs until more warmth trickles out.

You clean up in your bathroom and hear the washer turn on downstairs. You can't get his pitiful look out of your head. You send him a chat when you get back in bed: Good night ❤️.

Sweet dreams ❤️🤟, he replies.

—---

----

----

Thank you for reading!

PSA - The main story to stepdad is over, and I don't commit to another arc of them, but the AU is still open for one shots, asks, HCs, whatever I get inspired on. Basically I want it to be more casual without expectations.

There will be another post this month, because I already wrote the smut.

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname   @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @rainstorms-library @nervousmumbling

#stepdad!joel #stepdad!joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #toxicanonymity ☠️ #tw stepcest

[comfortless]

Pygmalion!König and Galatea!Reader………. 😖 What do you think?

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. pining, light angst. self harm, implied animal death (not done by König or reader), fluff, König is horrible and by that i mean yes— he fucks the statue, outercourse, unprotected piv, implied mutual loss of virginity.

notes: lovely Salome did something similar to this already! 💖 however. yes. i am thinking about it and well…. take this out of my hands.

König has never had anything that could properly be called his own.

He walks the city entirely alone, no wife at his side to paw at his chest and bless him with adoring glances. His only steadfast companions are the grit slipping into his sandals as he walks, head held high even as the shadow of a boy begging on his knees for any semblance of love eternally tethers itself to him.

A glance lingering too long at the appeal of a soft face, the brush of his calloused fingertips against a pornai’s bare stomach before deciding that no, he didn’t want something so simple.

He merely slips a few apologetic drachma into her waiting palm and sets her free of him.

A warm body would never be enough, it was the heart that he starved for. To bed some poor creature that would never properly love him would be worse than the greatest of tortures in his mind.

It wasn’t a simple affair to find a lady to marry, either. Foreign soldier that he was, he had no right to some politician’s pretty daughter, court her properly and sweep her away to a bed that’s only ever been a harbor for lonely, twisted bitterness and blood.

Most turned away the moment he passed by: frightened glances that rightfully accused him of immense violence, shushed whispers of “barbarian” passed from soft lips before the sand beneath their fretful feet shifted and their shapes had disappeared from view entirely.

The ceaseless loneliness carves a burning ache somewhere within the expanse of his chest, something he knew he would never truly be free of, not until it rotted it’s way out of him in full.

It only seemed to quiet in moments he shed blood for this foreign country; burying his sword in some poor man’s gut was the closest he could get to sheathing a part of himself inside another, to touching a heart, seeing lips part in a gasp as their world becomes entirely consumed by him.

Just as the many days prior to this one, he grips the hilt of his blade, letting the metal dig into his palm, his knuckles bone white, as he makes his way back to the empty shack deemed a home.

Streets quiet and crowds disperse with each of his silent footfalls— not one of these smaller men or fearful women dares to look him in the eye. The only thing that does, the only eyes that ever lock to his, are those peering out from the harbor.

The figurehead guarding her expertly crafted ship has always called to him.

Her beauty was remarkable, from the curl of her hair to the patient look in her eyes. Her hands clasped before her breasts in silent prayer as she looms over the darkened depths of the sea beyond the soil, calling him to board, to venture away from this place that his left him in such an acute state of misery.

He swears he hears it then, a mere whisper on the wind, urging him in featherlight comfort to lie down his sword and take up the chisel and hammer.

It’s only when he pauses to look the gentle face of the figurehead over once more that he finds himself resolute in what he must do.

— — —

When he took to crafting her it was born of this desperation; hazy moonbeams cutting through the shade of his shack for hours before he would reluctantly pull away from a beautifully carved hand or the soft but stiff curve of a neck to retire to the straw-stuffed mattress at the corner of the room.

She was beautiful, a representation of all of the sweet, effeminate softness he would marvel at from afar. The swell of plush breasts, curved hips and silken thighs, eternally parted by her stance, the sweet face that could make any man feel entirely weak…

His hands tremble when they rest upon her form, unsure of just how such splendor could have come from his own coarse palms.

Weeks of scarce sleep only seemed to further his devoted madness. Though the warring dulled the ache and sated his blade, the longing seemed to only grow far more prevalent.

He yearned when they were apart, dreamt of coming home to her less lifeless and only demure smiles and hurried kisses the moment he would return to her. He would always come back.

Upon her completion, he took to courting her proper. Though she could not in any way reciprocate or reject his advances, he believed wholeheartedly that the cushiony love that had blossomed within his aching, neglected heart must be mutual.

Gifts were strewn at her cold feet, some gilded and shimmery, some soft with an abundance of colorful petals: offerings for a silent goddess that kept a part of his soul hidden away deep inside the pristine marble that she was carved from.

When he wraps her neck in a necklace with a sparkling beryl amulet attached, his hand does drift to the swell of her breast beneath the woolen chiton.

It’s hard and cold, but his groping becomes as incessant as the kisses he presses to her jaw, to her cold lips, tongue leaving a warm path down to her neck before he finds himself committed to having her.

He’s careful when he disrobes her, slowly revealing the mounds and curves and softness of her imitation of human flesh.

Dropping to his knees, his tongue laps at the ivory depiction of smooth lower lips, spearing between each silken ridge until he imagines her eyes squeezing shut as she cries out for him, rolling her perfectly sculpted hips to coat his tongue in waves of vulgar honey.

He moans into her cunt, drools and sucks at the mimicry for as long as it takes to find her thighs drenched in his saliva and his cock aching horribly between his thighs.

He rises to slot himself between her legs, pushing forward with a keening whine that dissipates into a relieved gasp. The feel of her pressed against him; the smooth ridges of her makeshift flesh running over his stiff, leaking cock is akin to finding divinity.

His hands rove over her breasts, thumbs pressed against her eternally pebbled nipples as he kisses her, each sloppy and filled with years of need.

It is pure bliss, almost as though he is burying himself to his hilt inside of her pulsing cunt.

He would fuck her better than any man— not a single other could match the strength of his affections nor his hapless willingness to please.

If he could have carved a proper hole between her legs, not a drop of his seed would be wasted on thin sheets or spilled into his palm, she would be filled, womb brimming until some loving god or goddess blessed her with child.

His pace quickens to the point of frantic, feverish hands drifting to her hips as he mouths at her breasts instead, hissing out praises for how good she feels against him, how his heart bleeds to feel her nearer.

There is so much heat between her thighs now he could swear it burns like the cold mist of the Underworld itself; the fuzzy heat pools from his navel and further as his muscles begin to tense and leave his thoughts a haze and his lips parted in a silent, worshipping cry.

It’s only when he envisions her tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, back arching as she drags her nails over his shoulders and whines through her own damnation that his cock throbs in repetition as his eyes roll back. His heavy sack arrives at her mound as his seed spills from him, cascading down to paint the thighs of his silent lover, smeared pearly and glistening over her labia as he rubs his cockhead against her with an agonized groan.

His forehead finds her shoulder, warm breath replacing the coldness of her skin as he wraps his arms around her perpetually beckoning form, lovingly trailing kisses from her clavicle to her ear where he whispers a breathless, “I love you.”

It’s only after he’s finished wiping away the evidence of depravity from her that he feels the first wave of shame, sharp and feathering from his chest that leaves his jaw set and throat tight.

What lowly man envies the warmth others experience with far less gratitude? König has never seen himself as pathetic, no matter how commonly he’s been sent off and kicked like a stray.

She’s the only thing that’s brought him any sort solace in a world that’s left him starved, but also a cruel mirror casting a reflection of his own nature.

Pulling the thin blanket from his mattress, the statue is soon swallowed up in her entirety, all guilt and pity-drawing attestation neatly hidden away behind rippling sable fabric; her form silent and waiting as it would remain eternally.

None of this is enough.

———

König has never found himself fond of prayer, never felt the need to partake in the festivals and ceremonies. His luck in battle was only a mere measure of skill, of a body so brutal and immense that most trembled before him, not born of any benevolent gift. There was no need to kneel, to bestow offerings upon the altars. If the people turned away from him, then surely any god or goddess would be even more inclined to do so.

Only… his mindless wandering has led him here, to Aphrodite’s altar whilst the festival of Aphrodisia plays on everywhere around him. The people invoke and dance, abundant offerings brought forth as the scent of timber burning and bold floral incense floods his senses. Blood and flowers already riddle the stone, a stark vibrancy of color that lures him closer, commands him to kneel.

He doesn’t have a thing to offer to the goddess, not so much as a petal, but if the pull were not just the first signs of a withering mind…

The glimpse of hope he’s offered is not taken for granted.

Thick fingers curl over his sharpened blade, dragging his palm against the steel until it stings almost sweetly. If she could accept the blood of a goat then surely, his could be no more polluted. Beads of crimson revel and dance along his forearm before dropping down onto the stone.

And he does pray.

It is not a vulnerable prayer, one that bares him in full, but only a wish— a longing for warmth, to have her share his breath, to admonish his shame and live free with the one thing that has never given him anything but safe harbor.

He unveils her when he returns, knowing that this is the closest he will ever come to love.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes against her cheek, leaves a kiss there before dragging himself away to disrobe and pull himself back into bed.

When the weariness takes him, his sleep in dreamless and calm. If any blessing were bestowed upon him at all, the surely that would have been more than enough. A night without turning, without visions of a darkened grave devoid of anything to haunt him.

He only begins to stir when the mattress dips at his side, a soft palm pressed to his chest, stroking along the loose curls of auburn there.

“König..,” a voice calls out, more gentle than any he’s ever heard.

He wakes to find her, leaning over him with the sweetest glimmer in her eyes, wide and fascinated. Her touches only trail further up to his face as he tries to silence the rapid beating of his heart, the stinging born of adoration in his own pale blue eyes.

“I missed you,” she whispers, moving to curl at his side, her hands cradling either side of his jaw.

König is utterly stifled and so terribly smitten, the most he can manage is a quiet huff of breath as he rolls onto his side to take this sweet, unreal woman into his arms. Dreaming or waking, it mattered not, if he were given only the night or a lifetime with this beautiful little creature it’s still more than he has ever had.

His head dips to press a chaste kiss to her soft lips, only finding a warmth there that had never been the many times he had kissed her prior. His palm runs along her side, feeling ever perfect dip and curve, all heated and so very alive.

She only falls apart beneath his touch, already quivering and softly gasping even from such a gentle kiss. The thought that this little dove has been longing for him just as much makes his heart bleed. He whispers his apologies against her temple, for his frustrations, for his doubt in their love, for all of the temptations and hatred that plagued his mind before she came to be.

She only answers with eager touches, grasping at him as she murmurs her own perceived shortcomings. If only she knew that she could never do wrong, that she was what’s saved him and that nothing could shatter that.

When her tongue slips past his lips and his breath grows heavy, there’s little else he can concentrate on than the throbbing pillar between his legs, the scent of her around him, under him when he guides her onto her back.

Thanking the goddess could wait, he’s far too focused on the one that’s willingly climbed into his bed.

One hand splays at her side forcing him upright as the other trails over her breasts, a satisfied groan leaves him as he feels her softness, fighting back to urge to squeeze and pinch until she cries in pleasure, howling out like those at the altar he had encountered only earlier.

A nipple is snared between his thumb and index, twisted gently beneath each pad, her back arches…The wetness of the dew slicked flower between her legs brushes against him and he whines like a starved dog finally presented with the aroma of a meal.

His hand falls from her breast to her hip, encouraging her to buck the source of her own need against him— take anything she needed. If she were to pull a blade and carve a hole in his own chest he would only let her, the taste of this heated bliss and the look that she gives him, enchanted and curious, is more than he has ever deserved.

Only does he pause when he parts her thighs, and her stare becomes more curious, searching him for any reason as to why he would even stop.

“We have done this before. Are you afraid now?”

No, he wants to tell her, that before was not the full extent of it. Instead he only laughs, peeling away just enough to fit his head between her legs, mouth only a small measure from her weeping cunt.

“I want to taste you.”

With a whispered plea from her lips, he raises her hips, mouthing and suckling at her until she shivers and sings against the cushions. He groans against her when she does come, her hips stuttering in his grasp as she drives further against him.

He hisses in his mother tongue when he pushes the backs of her thighs up, grinds his leaking tip against her until he swears he really will fall into madness if he doesn’t fuck into her immediately.

The ache in his chest that his been so prevalent for so long is finally smothered out the very moment she tugs him down by his shoulders and pulls him into a frenzied kiss. She encourages him in each lapse, murmurs how long that she’s waited, how starved she’s been for him while hidden away.

He nearly sobs when his tip snags against her entrance, so divinely wet, pulsing and begging just as he is. When he penetrates her, the breath is punched from his lungs, his hands and mouth exploring every inch of her within reach as she wraps around his shaft as though her cunt was made for him.

His little dove only covers him in kisses in turn as he mumbles obscenities into her flesh, revelling in her tightness, in the way her body fits so perfectly against his, mutually carved by the gods to fulfill one another. His professions of love come in abundance as she fits her legs over his narrow hips, crying out from his sudden depth as his cock jumps against a spot that leaves her writhing.

Though it’s almost painful to keep himself restrained, he tries his best not to rut into her like a mindless animal, even when he feels her constrict around him as another orgasm leaves her cunt drooling and pulsing. He doesn’t give her time to recover, however… forced to lie in wait for so long, it’s nearly taken out on her as he spears into her as she moans and babbles her praises against his chest.

He’s lost to the empyrean as his muscles finally pull taut, crying as he buries his head into her shoulder and pumps his come into her, shaking as he wraps her up in his arms and clutches her close as he melts against her.

Spent and sated, König holds her tightly against him as they pant and share sweet words, secrets and giggles from her that make every moment of dolor before this night seem insignificant.

She slots her fingers between his own, compliments his damaged face and the worships his body with brushes of her lips and tongue just as he does her. He does not leave her empty, warms her heart with words he’s kept trapped in his throat for months, guides her gently as she perches over him to descend back onto his cock, his thumb stroking her stomach as he tells her over and again just how much he loves her, compared his feelings to that of Orpheus, how he would suffer anything all for her.

A pleading “Stay” is uttered as she falls limp against him, stroking along her back as they come down for the second time that night.

The last thing that leaves her lips before sleep takes her is the most saccharine she’s said that night, a simple, “I love you.”

It’s the only thing that he’s ever truly longed for.

———

They marry after the voyage back to his homeland, his head clouded during the entire trip of seeing her swell with his child in time, a home built with her in mind for the two of them, of lying flowers at her feet just as he had before.

His blade lies neglected in the little glade they had chosen, taking up only a hammer and his own hands as he works tirelessly to provide for his wife, the dove that looks at him as though he were not a dog but a king.

When their home is built after many weeks of tedious work during day and bedding her beneath the stars each night, König only then thinks to pray his thanks to the foreign goddess who gifted his salvation to him with little more than a scrape from his palm. All the while his true goddess leans over him to tickle his cheek with flowers he had plucked for her only moments prior, covering him in a fragrance so sweet it only seemed befitting of herself.

She giggles and sighs when he pulls her down into the grass to roll over her, blanket her in kisses and gentle bites to her throat.

The beryl amulet around her neck catches the glimmer of the sun above as she sifts her fingers through his hair and tells him that the gods already knew he was grateful, that his worship of her was already telling enough.

#könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig #cod fanfiction

[soap-ify]

older boyfriend soap and his ridiculously big dick... GRR brainrot... 🙏🫣

he never EVER fucks you, instead, he overstimulates you til you're close to passing out, your body sore and weak and melting into the bedsheets as he pins you down, holding your arms behind your back while he rocks and bucks his broad hips into your body, dragging his lengthy dick back 'n forth between your thighs/cunt, leaving you babbling incoherently.

feel free to ignore or delete, no pressure, sweetheart !! 🕊️☀️💐

orla i think i blanked out there for a second THIS IS SO?? you're up to something here!!

cw — age gap, edging, overstimulation, outercourse, degradation.

older boyfriend soap is just so grumpy and snarky all the time due to work stress, and seeing you all needy and happy to see him after every deployment just riles him up even more.

he will make you think that he’s going to finally fuck you whenever he’s got you all cornered on the bed, having toyed with your poor sensitive clit for almost an hour, edging you while all your senses burned, aching for a release, soft sobs leaving your lips.

“p-please, johnny… need to cum so bad.”

“hush, hen. m’gonna make ye feel so good, ah promise.” he’d kiss your cheek, sounding so sickeningly sweet.

and he does fuck you technically, strong burly arms pining you down while his girthy hard cock slid back and forth between your puffy folds, rubbing against your clit that was all overstimulated due to all the orgasms he pulled out of you after edging you for so long :( he’d be so mean about it too, playfully slapping your trembling thighs and cooing mockingly at the tears that ran down your cheeks.

“this is what ye wanted. right, slag?” he’d sneer at you, continuing to grind against your soaking cunt while you desperately whimpered to feel his large cock stretch you out, words coming out as incomprehensible cries and babbles.

“look at ye. cannae even fuckin’ speak. just a dumb wee thing.”

he’d give really nice aftercare tho despite not having stuffed you full of his big cock at all :( maybe some other day he will!

#older boyfriend soap save me... save me older boyfriend soap #i need him so bad mean!soap is just so special #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #cod smut #call of duty #rurufic #ruru mail #tw age gap #tw older boyfriend

[shotmrmiller]

Needs Must III

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

WC: 2.2k

TW: frottage into outercourse, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie. explicit smut.

18+ MDNI

“Hey, John—” and choke back a yelp when you realize that the person standing in front of you isn’t Johnny, but the one man you haven’t seen in months.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Despite your shock, a sound of disgust escapes your lips involuntarily, causing him to chuckle. Ghost walks past you, brushing his bicep with your shoulder, and heads to the living room to take off his leather jacket, placing it on the backrest of your couch— and the gloves follow. You stood behind him, arms crossed, curling your socked toes nervously into the soft fibers of your carpet. 

He leisurely rolls up the silky satin dress shirt sleeves, exposing the intricate tattoos adorning his forearms. Without turning around, he softly says, “C’mere, pet.” His deep baritone voice pulls at your heartstrings because it’s been so long, you missed him more than you’d like to admit. With a deep breath, you attempt to steady your racing heart, your gaze fixed on the ground, and slowly approach him.

“Oh?” and he tips your chin up with his finger, demanding your attention, noticing his amused smile. “Johnny fuck you into submission, er somethin’?” Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you’re unsure if it’s out of embarrassment or anger.

“Don’t look surprised. He’s my best friend.” Spluttering, you heatedly ask, “And what? Y’all just gossip like old hens over ‘work’?” finger quoting the last word. With a cheeky grin, he casually shrugs his shoulders. “Somethin’ like tha’. If you worried, he gave you a glowin’ review,” the grin turns into a slight sneer, “bastard.” 

Ghost gives you a once-over, sweeping his eyes from your feet to your head, and holds your gaze for a second, then murmurs, “Come.” With a gentle yet commanding hold on your wrist, he pulls you towards the bedroom, and you’re reminded of the times he pinned both of your hands onto the bed with his large one— sending a very familiar ache between your legs. He sits you on the edge of the bed, toes his shoes off, and starts to undo the buttons on his shirt, exposing the strong muscles of his chest and his soft, slightly round stomach. He doesn’t even bother removing it fully, instead, he reaches for the waistband of your shorts. You extend your leg out, firmly pressing your dainty foot on his sternum, keeping him in place.

He stills, and you speak before he gets a chance to. “What’re you doing here, Ghost?” His heavy, dark gaze is unwavering, entrancing. “‘M here f’you. You didn’t honestly think tha’ I’d let you keep callin’ Johnny instead o’me?” He encircles your delicate ankle with his long fingers and pushes your leg to the side— the other hand taking the hem of your skirt, dragging it up until it bunches around your waist, and slots himself between your spread thighs. Lips brush against your cheek before moving up to your ear. “What is it? He treat you better than me?” His warm breath sends a shiver down your spine. Instead of waiting for a reply, he catches your earlobe with his teeth, nibbling on it. Your hands promptly fist the sides of his open shirt, mewling at the pinch of his bite. “Hm?” he questions as he grinds his clothed erection against your center. 

You’re lightheaded from the sound of his voice, the heat of his body seeping into your skin, the smell of his cologne— a woody aromatic fragrance, all of it so fucking intoxicating. He delivers a sharp, stinging slap to the side of your thigh, demanding your attention, and it sends a jolt straight to your dripping cunt— making it contract around nothing. “He fuck you better than I have?” You give him a vigorous shake of your head, and a needy moan spills from your mouth as he gives your core a particularly hard thrust, the hard metal of the zipper rubbing against your clit. You begin to grind your hips down onto him and move one hand from his now very crinkled shirt, to hold on to the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“You boutta come all over my trousers, baby?” 

And then his hands are on your waist, firmly keeping you in place. You whine loudly, you were so close— 

“Then why did you stop seeing me?” Your head is so heavily clouded with arousal, drunk off of him that the answers tumble out unwittingly— mind solely focused on getting the friction back where you need it most.

“I wanted you all f’me,” slurring your words, “Guess the hand y’always used to choke me with kept the blood from flowing t’my head—” your rambling is cut off by his mouth slanting over yours, tongues entangling. He swallows all of the salacious noises you let slip, drinks them in, makes them his— makes you his. When he pulls away, you find yourself gasping for air. With a raspy voice, you mumble, “I thought you—” and he silences you with another hungry kiss.

“I only kiss what’s mine.” He hooks his thumbs into the band of your knickers and pulls them off, throwing them somewhere behind his shoulder. He swiftly undoes his trousers and steps out of them along with his boxer shorts. “Let’s play a game of Simon says, pet.” He maneuvered your hands to grab under your thighs, keeping them spread for him. Leaning forward, he leans on one arm, using the other to press the head of his cock on your puffy lips, holding it in place with his thumb. He slowly thrusts up, making sure you feel every ridge and vein against your swollen clit, “And I say, you come f’me, just” thrust “like” thrust “this.” 

You push your hips down when he pulls back, up when he drags his thick cock up, delicious friction on your bundle of nerves. Every roll of his hips gets you closer to your climax, your pussy dripping slick down to your perineum. Your thighs start to tremble in your sweaty hands, body tense. “Oh my god. Ohmy—”  

He shifts his weight from his arm to lean on his elbow, heavy body flush against yours, pressing you into the bed—  fisting your hair and pulling it taut, tilting your face up to his. 

“It’s either my name or none at all.” He punctuates the syllables with his thrusts. “Si - mon.” 

Releasing your thighs, you dig your nails into the sides of his waist, grip tightening at your impending orgasm. Simon grunts a low, gravelly sound. “There they are. My kitten’s sharp claws,” one more thrust, then again, he moans, “Come f’me, baby.” And you tip over the edge. Anything he might’ve said after is completely muted either by the ringing in your ears or the wail that clawed out of your throat. Collapsing, you twitch and shake in Simon’s arms, taking in ragged breaths. 

“You with me?” giving him a weak nod. Slowly, he pulls away, and there’s clear, stringy liquid dripping from his tip connecting to the hood of your pussy. He moves you to lie in the middle of the bed gently, body completely limp, plain dead weight, then walks to your nightstand. “What’s with all the lambskin condoms?” 

A soft, relaxed sigh slips out of you. “Johnny’s allergic to latex, I had no idea. Had to go without one the first time.” Simon lets out a drawn-out hum, then drops the protection back into the drawer. He shrugs off his damp satin shirt, then gets on the bed, crawling over you— covering your body easily with his, and prods his bare cock at your entrance.

“But you’re mine now, aren’t you? Gonna let me take what’s mine?” Swallowing thickly, you look at him, and his eyes are dark, glittering— gaze intense. Maybe you took too long to answer because he starts to slowly push the tip in, and hisses, “You’re mine, only mine. Got it?” and your tight, rippling walls stretch around his invasion. Your breathy moan is cut off when he bottoms out, flared head firmly pressing into your cervix. He’s at a dead end, and he grinds down, almost like he’s trying to push it past that, feeling a deep pinch at the entrance of your womb. The pressure is punishing, incessant, you swear you can feel him in your throat. “Nod if you understand,” he snarls.

You do as he says, no commands, nodding with messy, jerky movements. “Good girl.” He relents, pulling back to sit on his haunches to press one leg into your bed and hook the other over his shoulder. Wordlessly, he sets a fast pace, but his thrusts are shallow, in a staccato rhythm—  and fuck him, because he knows precisely where to hit. Ruthless prodding against your sweet spot, over and over again. It feels like jabs to the underside of your bladder, and every tap makes that feeling sharper, acute. Oh no. Nono— 

You know exactly what’s going to happen. Your eyes glisten with tears, cascading down your cheeks, as the overwhelming sensation takes hold, and with every thrust, it only becomes more concentrated.

“Awh, my poor pet. Feels tha’ good, does it? Look at you, cryin’.” You can't find it in you to be even the slightest bit humiliated because you’re about to lose the last of your sanity, he’s about to break you. You can’t even control the shrill moans Simon all but punches out of you. 

“Oh, I’d recognize tha’ cross-eyed look anywhere.” He chuckles, “C’mon then. Make a mess f’me.” His thrusts are unyielding in his pursuit of what he’s about to make you do.  “Squirt f’me, pretty.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your body locks tight, and this time you scream. Liquid warmth floods in between your legs, drenching yourself, your bed, Simon— but you don’t care. There isn’t a single thought in that empty head of yours. 

Simon was languidly thrusting, fucking you through the aftershocks until a wavering breath escapes your lips, mirroring the shaky tremors that are currently rippling through your body. As he leans in, his lips softly caress your face, wiping away any stray tears that remain, and the spit that drooled out of your mouth. “You did so well f’me.” Your eyes widen at the feel of his solid, heavy cock still at full mast inside of you. 

He changes position, this time hooking the other leg over his shoulder, then gives you one soft thrust and you distinctly hiss, oversensitized. Simon presses your knees into you with his body weight, pinning you down fully, with no escape, and loops his arms underneath your torso to grab onto your shoulders— and starts snapping his hips viciously. A merciless pace, each slap of his hips against your ass making your pussy squelch obscenely, and there’s nothing you can do other than take his assault. It is unbelievable, how just seconds before were squirming away from him because of how tender you were, and here you are, about to fall over another mind-numbing edge.

“If you want me to come, then squeeze that tight cunt and wrench it out of me.” He pounded into you harder, the headboard of your bed furiously smacking against the wall that you know there’ll be cracks on it. Crying out, he continuously hits the deepest part of your pussy, and you come undone. Vision darkening, you’re slammed with wave after wave of pleasure, your walls squeezing him so tight, you’re strangling his cock and he makes a choked sound. 

“Oh-of, f-fu-” he lets out a low, drawn-out moan that lasts all four last thrusts— before his hips stutter, and finally still, spurting thick, sticky white ropes of cum into you.

—

The room was echoing with both of your heavy inhales, desperate to fill your lungs with air. It was humid, smelt of sex and body sweat. Simon grunts as he turns to his side, getting off of you, and the sharp gasp of air you intake is comical.

“Am I tha’ heavy, love?” 

You look like you’re tittering on the edge of consciousness, but snort and answer him. “Yes. Obviously. The only thing small about you is your humility.” He gives a belly laugh and leans in to give you one last sweet, tender kiss. 

“Go to sleep, love. I’ll take you out for breakfast tomorrow, maybe meet some of my friends.” 

“You mean Kyle and John? They’re very nice.” He falters because what? But you were already softly snoring. 

Stretching his arm across the nightstand, he swiftly retrieves his phone and a mischievous grin spreads across his face upon seeing a text from Johnny from hours ago.

Ya really answered her text on my phone pretending to be me. Pussywhipped.

You really told her you’re allergic to latex, when you use latex gloves to cook. 

Oof. Fair. 

And you’re gonna explain to me why she knows Gaz n Price.

Jus’ sharin the love, Simon. 

Sucking his teeth, he puts his phone underneath the pillow, and loops an arm around your waist, pulling you to him. With a tender kiss on your sweaty forehead, he drifts off into a peaceful sleep.

A/N: ngl i was fighting for my life? shit had me aroused. oof. im def writing price and kyle into this because 141 til i die. maybe a könig? unsure.

@rookiesbookies KYLE COMIN NEXT

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost smut #cod smut #simon riley smut #call of duty smut #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader smut

[tropes-and-tales]

Good Girl

Day 2:  Dry humping (Bob Floyd x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Idiots in love; praise kink; smut (dry humping; outercourse; whatever the youths call it now - clothed grinding and such); 18+ only.

Word Count:  2996

AN:  This is loosely related to the very loosely-formed Seresin cousin mini-series, found here. It was requested for Kinktober by @justreblogginfics!)

You and Bob continue your little dance for months.

You know the man likes you.  Every time you fly into town to visit your cousin Jake, Bob is always nearby, staring at you on the sly like a lovesick puppy.  He’s always just at the edge of the group gatherings—nights at the Hard Deck, parties at Nat’s house, afternoons at the beach—and you always feel those big blue eyes tracking your movements.

Everyone else notices it.  Harvard and Yale corner you at the Hard Deck, ask if you’ve noticed that you have an admirer.  Nat pulls you aside at her barbeque and obliquely gives you a rundown of Bob’s numerous good traits.  Only Jake holds his tongue, but you catch him narrowing his eyes at the WSO enough that you realize even your cousin—your cousin with his penchant for being self-centered, the handsome narcissist with the blinding smile—has noticed Bob’s crush too.

Bob never makes a move.

Nights at the Hard Deck when you blatantly lament being single.  The party at Bob’s house where you stayed behind to help him clean up.  The little touches you chance:  brushing your hand against his, a light hand on his shoulder, friendly hugs…they are an invitation, but he doesn’t pick up on it.

It’s Rooster who clues you in.  The man takes your hand one night at the bar and tugs you outside where the ocean crashes along the shore in the darkness.  In the dim light, you can just make out the man as he peers down at you.

“I know what you’re doing,” he says.  “But you’re going about it all wrong.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You catch the white of his eyes as he rolls them.  “C’mon.  It’s obvious you like Bob, but you gotta make the move if you’re interested.  You gotta be blatant with him.  He won’t get it otherwise.”

“Why not?”  Your stomach twists unpleasantly; you wonder if perhaps you’ve misread the situation.  Maybe Bob has a crush, but maybe it’s just a crush, and maybe there’s someone else he loves and this is just a passing bit of madness—

“Guy’s a brilliant wizzo, but he’s clueless with women.”

Now you roll your eyes at Rooster, and he chuckles at the gesture.  

“I’m serious!” he continues, and he holds his hands up, helpless.  “I think he misread a situation once with a girl when he was younger, and I think it scared him off of making the first move.”

“That’s a terrible excuse.  I got food poisoning from bad tacos once but I still eat tacos.”

Rooster chuckles again.  “Yeah, but you women can be devastating when you reject us.  I think poor Baby on Board was crushed before and now he’s just a pining little asshole, staring at you from across the bar.”  

You shrug helplessly and glance back into the Hard Deck:  you can see Bob in profile, and you get the impression that he’s just turned away, that he didn’t want to get caught watching you.  Watching you and Rooster together, chatting outside, laughing outside.  You feel a wave of sympathy for what Bob must be thinking—that you’re flirting with Rooster, that maybe Bob has missed his chance.

You turn back to the pilot.  You square your shoulders.  “Okay, I hear you.  I’ll be the brave one.”  A beat as anxiety blooms in your chest, makes your ribcage feel a fraction tighter, makes it just a bit harder to draw a full breath.  “And you’re sure he likes me?  You aren’t misreading this somehow?  I don’t want to look like an idiot, Bradshaw.”

He laughs outright, and he hooks an arm around your neck to pull you into a friendly hug.  

“Ah, kid, he loves you.  You make the first move, he’ll probably go ring shopping next weekend,” he says, and he lays a smacking kiss on the side of your head before releasing you, shoving you gently back towards the bar.

-----

You may be confident, but that confidence doesn’t always extend into your romantic life.  Still, you decide to be brave.

You make the first move.

When you go back into the Hard Deck, you notice that Bob seems quieter than usual, and you guess that he saw the hug, the friendly kiss between you and Rooster.  You guess that he is drawing incorrect conclusions about what he thinks he saw, and you hate to think of him suffering needlessly.

You sidle up to him, and you feel another wave of tenderness towards the man when he turns to look at you—still with that soft smile on his face, a glimmer of hope in his eyes despite what he must be thinking.

“It’s too noisy in here,” you say close to his ear.  “I was going to take a walk on the beach.  Do you want to join me?”

The hope in his eyes turns blatant.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  You wanna go?  C’mon.”  You don’t give him a chance to stammer his way out of it; you thread your arm through his and tug him towards the door, and he follows you without any resistance. 

You catch Rooster’s eye, then Nat’s as you leave.  The former tips you a knowing wink.  The latter gives you a nod, and she lifts her glass in a salute.

You don’t release him until you’re at the water’s edge, and you bend down to untie your sneakers and peel out of your socks.  He hesitates a beat then joins you, and he rolls up the pants to his uniform so that his shins are bare.

The two of you walk along the shore in silence for a bit.  It’s one of the things you like best about Bob—how he lacks the braggadocio to always talk, to always fill up every bit of silence with the sound of his own voice.  You know he’s perhaps more shy than the average person, but he doesn’t seem undone by it.  He seems comfortable just to be himself:  quieter than most, willing to sit back and watch.  

Case in point:  you hold your shoes and socks in one hand, and you take his hand with your free one.  Maybe he’s nervous, but his palm is warm and dry, not sweaty or twitchy.  If he’s nervous, it’s not obvious.

And he breaks the silence, after a while.

“Growing up in the Midwest, I never even saw the ocean until I enlisted,” he says.  

“Same,” you reply.  “I mean, growing up in Texas, we went to Galveston a few times, but that was technically the Gulf, not the ocean.”

“You like it?”

You feel the water lapping around your ankles, the give of the sand underneath your soles.  “I do,” you admit.  “There’s something really peaceful about it, and I love poking around at low tide and looking for sea glass.”

He glances at you, and you can hear the teasing in his voice when he replies, “I’m gonna tell Hangman that his cousin only visits him because he’s stationed along the coast.”

The words slip out of your mouth before you even realize you’re saying them.  “Maybe I only visit Jake because I like one of his coworkers.”

The light-hearted feeling of the moment deflates; Bob goes silent.  He takes a beat to reply, and when he does, his voice sounds strained.

“Bradley.”  It comes out curt, two quick syllables.  A statement, not a question.

You shake your head, let out a grumble of disagreement.  Up ahead, you can see the outline of a lifeguard station, painted white and rising ghostly out of the night.  You want to sit with him and finally talk with him, so you tug his hand and lead him there.  The two of you sit on the steps, side by side, hips touching and facing the ocean.

“Not Bradley,” you tell him as you pick up the thread of the conversation.  

“I saw you tonight—”

You shake your head again, cut him off.  “He wanted to talk to me,” you tell Bob.  “About you.”

You feel him go rigid beside you, and he huffs out a frustrated breath.  If there was more light, you’d see the furious blush that breaks out across his face, but it’s dark enough that you can only guess at his embarrassment.

And now that you’ve opened the Pandora’s box, you can hardly take it back, so you plunge forward.  Usually confident, you’re glad for the darkness too—you hope it hides your shaky hands, your inability to turn and meet his eyeline.

“I think you’re great, Bobby.  Honestly.  I thought you were handsome the moment I met you, but then I got to know you, and you’re quiet but you’re funny and sweet, and I was giving all these signs that I was into you, but nothing…I mean, I like you a lot and it’s just…”  You trail off, lose your words like an idiot.  You hadn’t enough time to rehearse this in your head; you just grabbed him at the Hard Deck and dragged him out here, and now you’re fumbling it completely.  You drop your head and swipe your sweaty palms along the sides of your shorts, and you take a deep breath—

You hear his soft “hey,” and then a split second later you feel his warm hand on your face, tilting your head up and turning you to face him, but nothing on earth could prepare you for the way Bob Floyd kisses:  gentle but firm, only a bit hesitant.  His lips are soft, and he breathes out a quiet groan when you reach up and lay your own hand along the side of his neck.

Your thoughts go fuzzy.  Your concentration—all the words you were fumbling to say—is shot, but when you try to break the kiss to finish what you were saying, Bob shakes his head faintly and mumbles against you lips.

“I know,” he says, and you can hear his accent breaking through.  “I know, honey.  Me too.”

Then he kisses you again, firmer this time, and a moment later, when he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your mouth, you open yourself to him, allow him to taste you.  You taste him too, and Bob Floyd tastes like the grenadine-laced Coke he nurses each night at the Hard Deck, never much of a drinker even on the rowdiest night.

If nothing could prepare you for the way he kisses, then certainly nothing could prepare you for how sweetly dominant he is, how perfectly he walks the line between gentlemanly and not.  Your clumsy confession must have given him the wherewithal to take charge, and you’re surprised when he puts a hand on your waist and gently urges you to turn towards him…then how he just as gently urges you to climb onto his lap.

It doesn’t take much urging, you find.  You’ve been ravenous for months for this exact moment, and you had thought it’d never come.  You break away long enough to study his face—this close, and with the faint light of the half-moon in the sky above you, you can see his wide blue eyes, his parted lips as he gazes back at you.  You don’t see any hesitancy in his expression at all, but then he breathes out, “please, honey” and he squeezes your waist, so you clamber onto him with no grace whatsoever, but neither of you care because the moment you’re settled on him, you bend your head to kiss him again.

As it turns out, maybe Bob was just as ravenous for this moment too.  He puts his other hand on your waist too, draws you closer to him, and you can feel the nudge and brush of his growing erection against your inner thigh.  He makes a strangled, pained sort of groan in the back of his throat the first time you touch him there, and his hands spasm on your waist, grip you tighter before he schools himself and apologizes.

You break the kiss, slow the moment down.  You cup his face between your palms and hold him steady, tilt his face up towards yours.

“Bobby, why didn’t you ever say anything?” you whisper.  

He shakes his head against your hold and offers you a rueful grin.  “Didn’t think you were interested.”

You snort and press a light kiss to his forehead, then another few to his cheeks, the tip of his nose.  You can feel how flushed he is under your lips.  

“You think I just randomly hang back at parties to help the host clean up?” you tease.  You shift your head, whisper the words in his ear, and you note how he squirms under you.  He’s growing harder, even at your playful kisses.

“Just thought…ah, just thought y-you were bein’ nice.”  His accent comes out stronger, and his hands squeeze you tighter again before he loosens his grip.  “You’re always so…so nice to everyone.”

“I’m nicest to you,” you point out.  You kiss a trail along the line of his neck, and he tilts his head to grant you the space.  At his pulse point, you can feel his heartbeat thundering away there, so you bare your teeth and nip him—not enough to hurt or even sting, but he groans out “shit, honey” and wraps a strong arm around your waist, hauls you right up against where he’s straining against his uniform for you.  His other hand finds the back of your neck, and he draws you to him, kisses you breathless as he guides you against him, sets a steady, rocking motion against him.

It's too much:  the way his clothed erection hits you just right, how he pushes you back and forth, over and over, until you are so wet that you’re certain you’ve soaked through your panties and your shorts.  Everything feels sensitive, swollen, but he keeps guiding you, lifts his own hips in time to the rhythm he sets.  It’s too much but it’s not nearly enough, and you wish you’d known how this entire evening was going to unravel because you would have just taken him home instead—

“This good?” he asks.  His face is tucked against your neck; you’re a fraction higher than him, perched in his lap, and he works his mouth almost lazily against your neck, your throat, the underside of your jaw.  He has one arm around your waist, holding you tight to him, but his other hand settles against your ass, kneads you there, digs his fingertips into the fat of your ass like he wants to own you.

You start to make a joke about being surprised to find he’s an ass man, but then he dips his head, works an open-mouthed kiss right where the swell of your breasts begin.  You whine at the sensation and thread your fingers through his hair.  You hold him there, and the desire coursing through you—the sharp ache between your thighs, the prickly-hot flush across your skin—makes you feel fuzzy, light-headed.  You remember he asked you a question, so you answer him, nod hard and mumble yes, he’s making you feel good, he’s making you feel amazing, but what about him?

“Don’t worry about me.”  He nips at your collarbone, runs his tongue along the line of it, dips his tongue into the divot at the base of your throat.  “Wanna make you come, honey.”

Hearing those words come from his mouth makes your desire rachet up higher, hotter.  You grip his hair harder, whine out his name, but then he adds, “you gonna be my good girl and come for me?”

There’s no way he could have known of your praise kink, so it’s just a lucky guess, but the unexpected phrase—my good girl…fuck if it doesn’t make you cock-drunk and stupid.  No other guy really ever cracked the code of that kink for you.  A few had made half-hearted attempts when you mentioned it, but Bob Floyd stumbles over it immediately, and your mind goes blissfully blank:  yes, you want to be his good girl.  Yes, you want to come for him.  Whatever he wants.  Anything he wants.  Everything he wants.

You let go of your hold on his hair, and you cup his face again, tilt his head up so you can kiss him.  “Yes,” you whisper just before you slot your mouth over his, push your tongue against his, kiss him so deeply that you’re sharing the same breath, mapping the inside of his mouth with your tongue, memorizing every bit of him you can.  Yes, yes.  Yes to all of it.

Mind blank, your pleasure overtakes you:  you feel the heat and friction from where he sets you grinding against him, you feel the bulge of his cock hitting you perfectly, and every bit of him—his subtle cologne, the soft feel of his hair, the quiet little groans he makes, the flex of his muscles as he holds you—pushes you close to the edge.  You teeter there, you ride him faster, the seam of your shorts pressing deliciously against your swollen clit, but it’s his words that push you over.  His quietly domineering orders.

“Come for me,” he whispers, and it’s a harsh, punched-out sound that makes your stomach swoop when you hear it.  “My good, sweet girl.  Come for me.”

Your orgasm breaks around you like a wave, and Bob releases his hold on your ass to draw you closer to him, let you ride it out as you shudder against him.  Both arms wrapped around your waist as pleasure sparks outward from your core, travels up your spine and courses through your limbs until your head is swimming and he’s tucking you against him.

“That’s it,” he whispers into your hair.  “Good girl.  So fucking good for me.”

And all you can respond with is yes, yes.  Only for you, Bobby.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd imagine #robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #top gun maverick #tropes and tales #kinktober 2023

[derireo-galge]

Good to Marry | 3k | yoonmin✍🏼

Mafiа leader Mr Min hires Jimin as a lawyer for his employees' personal matters and becomes the centre of his Perfect Bachelor plan.

[ attempt at humor | happy ending | nsfw ]

♡♡♡

As it always happens in this latitude, the sky at some minutes past seven was still quite light.

White nights were beautiful, thick summer air filled with scents of trees, smartly planted all over the city. The hot stuffy day under the rays of blazing sun was over, and now it was a pleasantly humid evening.

Jimin was walking on the riverbank, an attraction for tourists, languidly strolling families and street vendors all year round. He had an important appointment tonight, undoubtedly a new client who knows what he wants.

The time his personal assistant requested was nine in the evening, which wasn't all that unusual. Many businessmen or famous people within different industries just didn't have any other time to spare or it seemed to them things are more discreet with the fall of the night. There was a picture gallery he passed and then the poster of a current exhibition caught his attention.

Marine artists.

The person he was meeting with was kind of a big fish so it was very fitting to visit the exhibition and calm his nerves. He loved the city for such places - the galleries, the museums, the historical places and temples.

You could spend a lifetime visiting sites and still not go over all of them. Jimin was a successful lawyer and although it wasn't a grand secret of any sort, the fact that he was a director of his own firm was not in the plain view. And despite many responsibilities and little free time he always made sure to have that time for thought, for inspiration, for enriching his imagination and knowledge by watching the plays and going to concerts. Jimin walked out of the art gallery pleased and much calmer.

The time of meeting with his new client was nearing so he headed into the direction of the restaurant.

It was a classy place next to the famous home club complex. It was impossible to obtain property there - it was mostly inherited. Jimin hasn't been there even once.

He entered the restaurant and was greeted politely.

- I'm meeting Min Yoongi-ssi here, - Jimin said and handed out his ID, - Park Jimin. The lawyer was familiar with showing his documents. His clients paid great attention to safety.

At least there was no metal detector here, but walking past the tables into the direction of private rooms he noticed some security spread around the space. Maybe that Min man was an even bigger fish than Jimin assumed in the first place. The private room was just as classy as the main dining area.

There was a man next to the table who he assumed was Min Yoongi-ssi himself. They bowed and said their greetings. - I hope you don't mind if we have something first? The matter I wanted to discuss is not very complex but it's a lengthy one.

His voice was deep and calm. Jimin felt more at ease, since this meeting already started not as formal as he expected. - That's a good idea, Yoongi-ssi. Anything you can recommend?

The atmosphere was peaceful.

Yoongi was holding a light conversation on socially appropriate topics which Jimin supported with ease. Assuming the business he wanted to discuss has something to do with his company or property, the lawyer asked general questions.

Jimin tensed when he heard the name of the company Yoongi was a head of. So this elegantly dressed gentleman in his fourties with the voice deep as an ocean and delicate hand movements was notorious Mr Min.

- Should I start calling you Mr Min then? - Jimin asked with a hint of humor. Yoongi, not having expected such a shift in their calm atmosphere, smiled widely for the first time that evening.

It didn't go unnoticed the young lawyer connected the dots and now probably felt uncomfortable sharing a meal and a cup of tea with a big mafia figure. - You can, of course, Jimin-ssi, - he said, a tad amused.

The conversation ran smoothly from then on. Yoongi needed a lawyer who could deal and help his employees in their personal matters. He had some lawyers hired for the business and now that it's as prosperous as ever he would like to help people who have been working for him for a long time.

Jimin was pleasantly surprised.

Not every boss would bother with such matters. Maybe it's because of the dangerous lifestyle, it brings people closer together?

Who knows. They agreed to go over minor details the next day and sign the contract then.

Mr Min carried on telling about his employees and what possible cases Jimin might have to start on right away.

There will certainly be a lot of work. - Did you walk here? - Min asked when they slowly walked out of the restaurant.

- I did, - Jimin hummed, - It was a pleasant evening. Too nice for a car. I live and work close by, on the other side of the river.

- Would you like a lift to wherever you're heading? Jimin didn't hesitate.

They both sat in the back seat, the lawyer voicing the directions to the townhouse complex he lived in.

The car ride was smooth and quiet.

He didn't feel threatened, Mr Min seemed to have this calming aura around him, making him feel safe. They parted on a light note and the next day just as amicably were going over contract details, with Yoongi himself correcting needed paragraphs on his laptop, glasses on his nose, fingers rubbing his chin. He looked really handsome, Jimin thought. With his dark long hair, slightly waving at ends, styled fringe and a habit of sucking air through his teeth. They eventually agreed on signing one contract with Jimin as personal lawyer for him and a contract between Jimin's firm - Yoongi only raised an eyebrow when he found out about that - for any aid regarding Yoongi's employees. It was unusual and they spent quite a bit of time perfecting and straightening every page to a fault. Mr Min didn't question the way Jimin dealt with things. Jimin himself wasn't sure why he treated Mr Min's case so thoroughly. Something in him was leaning towards this serious man.

Something told him, a naturally intuitive person, it will be good for the future if he puts all his effort in this. After a month of working together things were going great.

Jimin was going through case after case, ensuring Mr Min's employees were safe and the justice was served. He obtained a little hobby of sorts.

He began to gather personal notes on ways to legalize some parts of Yoongi's shady business.

Not that it was a plan, no.

Jimin's thesis was exactly on this topic. Mr Min was an interesting person and ran a no less interesting conglomerate.

So the young lawyer did some creative exercises in his free time to keep himself in good shape for the actual things he had to deal with. Another month later though, it wasn't just exercising.

Yoongi was truly a good person, that chose to do what he does, obviously, but also turned out to be a product of the generation, of the crisis the country was in in his younger years and shaped by his parents. He would make a splendid bachelor, of not for his dangerous line of work, Jimin thought. So he kept his side project on his desk until one evening he entered his office and saw mafia boss Min Yoongi holding the said project in his hands, eyebrows raised and a pout on his face. He noticed when the lawyer came in, immediately lifting his piercing gaze at him.

Jimin felt his palms starting to sweat and heart beating fast with fear.

He tried to compose himself and confidently walked until he was an arm's length from the leader. Jimin-ssi, - he started dangerously calm, closing the folder and leaving ot carefully on the table. - Mind telling me about this?

Jimin gulped. There was really no other way around it.

So he decided to come clean.

Well, except the bachelor part. - Huh, - Yoongi was really hard to read with his stoic face and calculated gestures, - And do you think it will be more beneficial?

- For what exactly? - did he guess Jimin's line of thinking or

- For the company. For the people in it. There are jobs that have been passed from older to younger generations. Of course I would like to make life better for them.

- Even if it means abiding to laws? Yoongi sighed.

He rubbed his hands and then used one to gently rub the younger’s forearm.

After working with him for a while Jimin knew, it's a sign that Mr Min was nervous, he became really touchy, especially with him. - It's a vicious cycle, Jimin-ssi. Once you're in, it isn't easy to back out. Especially if you're responsible for not just yourself but have others depending on you. - It was all hypothetic, what I've written there, Yoongi-ssi, - Jimin was a little upset he didn't have immediate solutions, - There is a lot we can possibly do though.

- Do you mind trying, Jimin - can I call you Jimin?

- Yes-

- Hyung.

- Yes, hyung, - Was a quick reply. Mr Min stood up after rubbing his knees like some old man and the lawyer almost giggled.

- I'll leave you to it. Would you like to tell me more about it? - he pouted slightly again, it was obvious he was truly curious, - Preferably tonight? Jimin nodded and wanted to step back so the elder could go past him freely but the other was faster, moving past him, shoulders brushing.

He briefly stretched his hand and reassuringly squeezed Jimin's waist. - Just come to my office when you finish for today, alright?

- Alright, hyung.

Before he left, Jimin noticed a funny looking smile on his face. He lost five years with it, looking so youthful and adorable. Something inside Jimin wanted to be the reason for that smile as often as possible. When Jimin looked at the windows in the office Mr Min declared his, it was a white night again.

He walked up to them and saw the lights and roads and trees from one of the tallest office buildings in the city.

He wondered if Yoongi liked doing the same. It kind of gave the feeling the whole world was at his feet.

He knocked on the door to the leaders office and was net with a sight of Mr Min sitting at the table, paperwork scattered around, reading glasses hanging low on his nose.

He looked like he was just sitting there catching a break. At the sound he lifted his head and Jimin was blessed with a sweet smile.

- Are you done? Shall we?

They walked to the lifts, Yoongi's big hand resting on the young man's lower back. The dinner at a fine restaurant proved Mr Min was a gentleman.

When he asked Jimin where he'd like to eat and discuss the new project the younger chose a middle class place, still with private booths but far from Michelin star places Yoongi usually went to. The elder was attentive, a great listener.

When they went over everything they needed, his hyung excitedly talked about next season's shedule in the opera and ballet theatre. When they wrote their notes down and corrected documents right there on the table Yoongi would lean in close and whisper in Jimin's ear, chucking when he would notice him squirm and shudder. Jimin was having a great time.

Apart from excitement from a new beginning at work, he was just happy to talk and let go of the worries for a little while.

♡♡♡

socmed interlude

♡♡♡

yoonmin profiles:

some tweets:

♡♡♡

One day Jimin found a beautiful envelope on his desk.

He opened it tentatively, wondering what could be inside.

Inside there were tickets for a play he has been eyeing for a long time. For a brief moment he wondered where they came from and then it dawned on him - they were from Yoongi.

He scratched his head in thought.

Maybe it was some company anniversary that he didn't know about or maybe a public holiday? Then came a message from Mr Min:

- Have you found them?

Turns out the tickets were just for them two.

They decided to walk to the theater, omitting the car and security in tow as usual. - I thought it would be nice to repay you on top of the contract we have for all the hard work you have done, - Yoongi said while looking at historical buildings they passed on their way, +

- Seems like all my employees' issues have been sorted well, my issues have been sorted well and now that we are working in this new direction it's been taking a lot of your time. So this can be a nice change of scenery. Jimin was in awe.

It was really thoughtful of him. He absolutely loved that they shared this passion.

- Do you enjoy going to this drama theater? - he asked hyung.

- I've been there many times but this play will be the first for me in this season. They walked into the marble foyer and passed on their coats.

The seats were great, he could see everything perfectly. They enjoyed this classic drama a lot.

After it ended and they dried the tears that escaped after a final scene, they discussed the book it was based on. He found a great companion, a perfect one to discuss his cultural interests with.

The depth of Yoongi's knowledge was insane. They slowly walked from the theater.

The riverbank was filled with lights and laughter of the children. They came to a small arboretum and spent some more time there just enjoying the nature.

They sat on the bench, pressed closer together. The quiet wasn't overbearing but rather welcome.

Suddenly a bigger hand lightly touched the smaller one.

Jimin looked down and saw Yoongi's hand next to his. He decided to be bold and put his dainty palm on Mr Min's hand. - Carefully, Jimin-ie, I am a dangerous man after all.

The small knowing smile grew on the elder's face.

- Not that dangerous anymore. Now that we've almost completed our project. - Jimin said with a giddy smile.+

- You know, - his hyung turned his body towards him and Jimin continued, - Ever since I had an idea of it, I had this image in my head that once every questionable area you have would be legalized you would be just a perfect bachelor, ready to get married. - You thought about marriage while thinking about me? That's intriguing.

- I actually did but marriage is about two people so no matter the outcome I'm glad I had this idea and helped you out. It was for mutual benefit. - I've seen this before, - Yoongi blurted out suddenly.

- What exactly?

- The bachelor part. Do you remember I found your note on this project? - I did... That was a little scary.

- Am I that scary? - Yoongi asked rubbing his reddened earlobe and pouting slightly again (!) - So when I was looking through

them notes I saw something. +

- You made a little scribble of me and it said Bachelor and under that you listed some of my good points and bad points and to you the only bad one was the danger of the activities I used to engage in. I found that rather amusing but also endearing. Yoongi looked somewhere at his face and said:

- You're endearing.

Jimin was baffled.

- I think, well thank you, I think you are endearing yourself and many more. So much more.

- So tell me, Jimin-ah, do you think I'm good to marry you now?

♡♡♡

Jimin was sorting the last batch of the folders that will have to be archived later.

The road they started walking on a year ago was long, the fruits of the journey rewarding. Mr Min still kept a great amount of security just in case but mostly all his areas of shady business weren't that shady anymore.

Mostly because who is a saint nowadays?

It was a success. Jimin was about to gather his stuff and leave to find Yoongi when he felt presence behind him.

He smirked. Yoongi found him first.

- Good evening, hyung.

Just as the words left his mouth a big veiny hand encircled his throat and another laid heavily on his waist. He knew Yoongi liked his hands on the column of his neck, not putting any pressure but rather giving the feeling of safety.

Buff chest pressed to his back, not pushing, just pressing as tight as possible. - Good evening, Jimin-ah, - his hyung breathed in his ear, whispering lowly, making the younger man flinch and shudder.

He held him tighter to prevent from moving. Then he started leaving small pecks over Jimin's earlobe, behind the ear, down his neck, nosing at the skin and inhaling his sweet and fresh perfume and his own musk.

He tasted his skin, savoring it like the finest of wines. - Ah, hyung, - Jimin moaned quietly and bent at the lower back only to feel Yoongi's erection pressing between his asscheeks clad in tight dress pants.

- Want to get off right here? - the elder rasped. - Mm, what about you?

- I'll wait til we get home.

Home.

The novice of hearing it hasn't worn off yet.

- Okay, can you..? Please? Yoongi's hand slid off his waist to the front on his pants and easily freed the younger's hard cock.

He started spreading precome along the shaft, jerking him off at a slow pace. Jimin was panting, hands thrown behind his back, tangled in silky strands of his hyung's hair.

His moans for louder and louder, filling the office space with echoes. Soon he was getting closer and closer to the edge with Yoongi whispering pure filth in his ear, laving his tongue and lips all over his ear and neck.

- Hyung, so close! Yoongi let go of him right that instant, forcefully turned him around and fell to his knees.

His mouth sank on Jimin's cock, tongue pressed on the underside.

His hand cupped the balls and fondled them. Jimin could scream from pleasure.

He carefully gathered Yoongi's hair with both hands and pulled him on his cock, holding him there every time before letting go.

He released into his mouth not long after and helped his lover up. They shared a deep slow kiss, tasting each other, calming down the fast beating of their hearts.

On the way home, in the backseat of a sleek car with tinted windows, Jimin felt his hand being surrounded by the warmth of the other's. He was excited.

For tonight, for tomorrow.

For many more years to come.

♡♡♡

~the end~

#ai-ee au #ai-ee au yoonmin outercourse #bts fanfction #bts au fic #yoonmin #yoonmin au #oneshot

[cherrychilli]

18+

AFAB reader, soft dom Steve, outercourse, P in V sex, morning sex, unprotected sex

Fat cock Harrington but it’s just the tip. This is a softer take on the trope but I do have a Perv! Steve version in mind for a future drabble.

A/N: the writer’s block has been pretty severe up in here so please be kind. Too many ideas but the words just aren’t wording, you know? my drafts are mountainous at this point but I am beyond delighted to have finally finished one of them and I hope I’ll be able to get the rest done too.

Divider by roseschoices

The sheets must have slipped off you again, a result of the way you sometimes moved around in your sleep. Or maybe they’d been tugged off this time? You suspected the latter when you roused to the feeling of his palm smoothing over the curve of your bare hip, fingers squeezing lightly when he saw your eyes begin to flutter open.

He’ll be leaving for work in an hour, you realize, when you spare a quick glance at your alarm clock, pushing back slightly to feel his hardened cock against your ass.

“Mm, gotta have you angel. Can I?”, Steve’s voice comes out low, still heavy with sleep and something more as he rests his chin on your shoulder, fresh stubble rubbing against your cheek.

The two of you are still naked from the night before, the bruises you’d both lovingly and desperately made on each other’s bodies still deepening in color and here he was, eager to be inside you again so soon.

“You’re insatiable”, you tease in an equally sleep riddled tone but show your interest by grinding against his cock again. The friction earns you a groan and another squeeze on your hip.

“Please? 'Couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t fuck you one more time before I left”

You’re too sleepy to roll your eyes but you manage a lazy giggle instead, finding Steve's particular brand of begging oddly endearing. “Fine. Wouldn’t want you beating yourself up over it”, you huffed playfully, giving him permission to let his fingers roam lower.  

"You're perfect", he thanks you in praise, teeth gently nibbling your earlobe. His fingers skim over your curls and ghost over your clit, detouring from the bud down to your still swollen folds. When he parts them it’s as if the rest of your body has been shaken awake, finally feeling the effects of last night when an ache of a different kind makes itself known between your legs.

The feeling isn't enough to alarm you nor does it make you want to stop, thinking little of the noticeable but weak throbbing until he attempts to work a finger inside. It's then that your core protests with a pain that's mostly dull but still unpleasant enough that your shoulders twitch and your thighs snap together by reflex, inadvertently trapping his hand there.

Steve mistakes it for jolt of pleasure at first until he hears the pain behind your whining and feels the urgency with which your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Too sore”, you yelp, voice small and tone verging on wounded but you're able to slump against his chest with relief when he pulls his fingers away quickly.

“Shit, baby I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

He's quick to try and soothe you and your thighs clench again, this time for a better reason when he cups a hand over your cunt, his warm, gentle touch quelling the ache he didn’t mean to agitate.

“Yeah, I’m okay”, you assure him as the throbbing subsides, humming appreciatively at the way he's holding you.

This has happened before. The result of when things turned a little rough in the bedroom.

The back curving orgasms and euphoric tears streaming down your face as he fucked you into the mattress always came first, the aching reminder of it all following the morning after.

But you never regretted it.

And it's never stopped you from getting off before.

“Still want you to use me”, you offered with a meaningful look over your shoulder and the boy realizes what you're referring to - something you usually let him do whenever you wanted to feel him but couldn’t handle having him inside you yet.  

“Yeah? Sure you want it?”, he asks sweetly, full of genuine concern for you but you're able to pick up on a hopeful lilt that slips through too. You didn't blame him, reminded of the need he feels for you when his cock twitches against your ass.

You nod, sure that as long as there was no penetration the pain wouldn’t flare up again.

“Yeah, I do" you answered, showing him how much you wanted it too when you placed your hand over the one he had on your sore cunt, grinding softly against his palm with a pleased whimper. "But be gentle, okay?”

"Promise", he leans forward to place a kiss on your cheek before shifting positions.

You smile up at his halo of mussed up chestnut hair when he hovers over you, gently rolling you on to your back. The early morning chill that seeped into your shared bedroom usually had you pulling the sheets up to your chin and pressing yourself up against your boyfriend for some extra warmth but now, laid bare underneath him, you feel as if you might perspire from the mounting tension.

You remember to lift your hips when he reaches for a pillow, allowing him to slide it underneath you before spreading your legs to accommodate him.

Seeing the glistening arousal between your legs makes Steve's head feel pleasantly fuzzy, spitting into his palm and working it onto his turgid cock with a few quick strokes.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”, he makes sure to add, guiding his cock to slot it between your your puffy folds, resting his flushed tip against your clit.

"Okay", you breathe out, the word very nearly tapering into a needy whine because you're already feeling the urge to nudge your hips forward and make his length rub over your clit just right.

When he does roll his hips you're reminded of just how sensitive he's left your bundle of nerves from the night before, clit pulsing from the gentle, languid motion of his cock sliding over it.

"C'mon, tell me what's going on in that pretty head. My girl feeling alright?", he coos down at you, making sure to scan your face for any signs of discomfort.

Steve's relieved when your expression turns blissful, the softest gasp escaping your parted lips like a secret meant only for him. "Mm, so good...keep going".

The look on your face encourages him to become a little bolder, thumb coming down to keep his shaft pressed firmly against your folds and the weight of it on your delicate core makes you curse with pleasure.

“Woke up hard this morning because of you, you know? y ’had me dreaming about this pussy all night”, he grunts out, canting his hips forward the slightest bit faster, careful not to overdo it in your tender state.

Another bolt of pleasure strikes and settles warm inside your belly, curling your fingers around his shoulders, eyes half lidded but fixed on his own.

"Fuck, Stevie it's so sensitive - feels amazing", you sigh high and pretty for him.

"Making such a mess already. All this for me?", hazel eyes flicking down to tease the fresh, creamy slick that's dripping out of you and clinging to his cock.

Part of you wants to argue back that some of the steadily growing mess is of his own doing, spying the dewy precum that beads at his slit but you're a little too caught up in the feeling coiling inside you to manage a quip right now.

You liked it when he rut against you this way, each thrust stimulating your puffy clit closer and closer to the edge, but rivaling your own pleasure was the satisfaction you felt when you watched him reach his own peak like this.

Knowing you could make him cum without even letting him inside you made every soft moan he spilled sound sweeter and the pink dusting his cheeks seem that much prettier - like you'd earned it the hard way.

Your favorite part was watching him still after you'd reached your own climax, cockhead pressed right up against your needy clit before it erupted with his release. You'd cry out every time the pearly, viscous spend spurt against your pussy in hot ropes, collecting on your skin and the matted curls on your mound.

Things seemed to be heading for the same conclusion this time round too, at least you had intended for it when you asked him to use you. But with the way he's working you up with every filthy word and knowing he wouldn't be able to lie in bed with you afterwards, all satisfied and spent, you were starting to change your mind.

A reminder of the discomfort you felt when he'd tried to finger you still fresh in your mind but feeling so, so terribly empty, you weren't able to ignore the other thought that blared in your head. That if he angled himself just the slightest bit lower, he might be able to slip in and make that lonely, empty feeling go away.

You wanted that stretch again, even if it hurt.

"Wanna try taking it inside again”, you blurt out, tears starting to blur your vision.

Maybe you should have considered a softer approach. One that wasn't so blunt, feeling a twinge apologetic when his hips stutter and his Adam's apple bobs in his throat with a thick gulp.

You knew you shouldn't spring these things on poor Steve. Least of all when he's got you naked underneath him. The boy was weak for you to the point that an admission like that could risk having him cum on the spot.

The conflicted look on his face was expected. What you were asking for was different from the night before, a night although filled with plenty of manhandling and welcome roughness, hadn't consisted of anything that had pained you. Not in any way that had you calling out your safe word at least.

"I don't know...”, he starts but trails off, looking positively torn when you begin to whine and buck your hips, folds dragging along his cock.

"Please, Steve? 'just wanna try...you'll be gentle with me wont you?"

The vein at his temple is noticeable now, jaw clenching too.

"No fair, baby...going all sweet on me like that", he strains, resolve crumbling.

You pout, so close to swaying him.

"Just once more. Promise I'll tell you if it starts to hurt, okay?"

His expression shifted as if considering. He hated saying no to you. Especially when your eyes filled such unbridled want.

"Fuck, alright".

You mumble thank you's against his lips when you pull him in for a quick kiss, legs spreading wider for him as his tip slips down to press against your entrance. There's more to take in this time but you're so much wetter than before - so eager to take as much of him as you can.

Anticipating the sting that comes when he begins to breach your hole, you chant softly for him to keep going, face pinching up in pain briefly when resistance gives way and the head of his cock finally pops inside.

Your sore walls protest at first with a dull gnawing, a bearable pain but still the kind that had you holding your breath until you could settle again.

Steve remains like that in place, not pushing in any further, hand rubbing considerately at your waist. He waits patiently for you to adjust - waiting for you to release that breath you've been holding and tell him how you're feeling.

“Don’t think I can take any more”, your voice comes out in a waver, a shaky breath coming after it.

Clouded by his concern for you, he interprets your comment as a cue for him to pull out. "I'm sorry, lemme just-" and you can feel him begin to withdraw from you carefully.

"No wait"

He stills again, afraid he's hurt you until you bend your knees and press your heels into the mattress to anchor yourself. The throbbing begins to subside and Steve's jaw falls slack when he sees you roll your hips, fucking yourself on the head of his cock.

“My god, baby" he manages to choke out, disbelieving despite having his eyes trained on the way your folds suck him in, the fat head of his cock sinking in and out of you wetly.

Your eyes fall to where you're joined too and you can see the veins bulging along his shaft, missing the way they felt inside you but with how sensitive you are, you feel impossibly full already.

"Steve, please", you sob, the sound of you all eager and aching prompting him to take over.

You're rewarded when pushes in, cock dragging over a tender, neglected spot sitting at an angle you couldn't reach on your own. It's a slow, but intensely passionate pace the two of you fall into, nothing but the wet sounds of your joined bodies and pleasured moans filling the room.

You almost worry that it's not enough for him. While you feel like your almost bursting at the seams in the best possible way, he's only managed to work around two inches of his dick inside you at this point, the rest of him missing that vice grip of your plush, silky walls.

That worry increases tenfold when he pulls out, only to have him push the unfounded concern out of your mind altogether when he wraps a hand around the the throbbing length, tapping the head glistening with your arousal on your clit. "I'm getting close", he admits hoarsely before pushing back in again, this time with more ease and far less pain than the first.

The way your walls give way for him has you keening, the pleasure pain combo at equal levels now.

“Yeah? Too much for you isn’t it, crybaby?”, he thumbs at your cheek and you begin to register the hot tears streaming down your face, earning you the nickname.

You nod fervently but your hips keep bucking, pace hurrying.

“Oh? Want more?”, he asks, half as a taunt, half in awe.

"Faster, please do it faster", you beg.

"Yeah?" he picks up the pace, fucking into your poor sore pussy as far as you can handle. "Gonna cum like this baby? already crying on my cock even though it's just the tip?"

"Oh god- Steve I'm getting close", you warn, back arching, fists gathering damp sheets.

"Fuck, so sore and you're still taking it like a good girl"

“Play with my clit”, you cry and he does, hand dropping to find the sensitive bud. A gentle puff of breath against your clit could have tipped you over the edge at this point, so when he rubs circles into it the force of your orgasm surprises you both, your cunt forming a tight seal around his tip when he bursts too, flooding you full.

There's no way he's clocking in to work on time today.

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] 🔞 MASTERLIST

He says he can make you understand his way of love, that he can help you awaken desires you never knew you had. You give him seven days to prove it.

Tags/Warnings: Smutshot!, porn with a lot of plot basically, corruption kink?, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements (Dom/Sub dynamics, kink exploration, bondage, blindfolding, impact play, wax play, orgasm control, Subspace, consensual limit breaking, others), angst, hurt & comfort, trauma, romance, fluff, more specific tags on each chapter

There is no taglist for this fic!

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Main Chapters:

Intro

Day 1: Safeword, Dom/Sub, Wax play, Shibari

Day 2: Fellatio, Sensual Dom, Bondage

Day 3: Outercourse, Toys, Cumplay

Day 4: Softcore, Orgasm control, Edging

Day 5: ???

Day 6: ???

Day 7: ???

◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇

Side content:

Yoongi Drabble 1 (NSFW, fluff)

Yoongi Drabble 2 (aftercare)

Yoongi Drabble 3 (first meeting)

Yoongi Drabble 4 (First date)

Jungkook Drabble (realization of interest, fluff)

Jungkook Drabble 2 (JK getting teased, Suggestive)

Jungkook Drabble 3 (Safeword talk, change of pace)

...

◇━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◇

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine