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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

You're early.

Your little knock on the door sends him into a spiral of panic, brain splitting in half, trying to figure out if he can hide his mortifying failure from you and still save dinner.

You knock again.

"Hey, sorry, I know we're early but-" You peel off with a sniff, nose wrinkling slightly, lips tucking together. You're wearing a lip stick, or a lip gloss, or something? And your hair is done. "Is something burning?"

"No!" He blurts. "No, uh. I'm just... cooking. Come in, come in."

He did actually, burn dinner. He burnt it so bad he had to order delivery, Thai on the fly, much to your excitement, and he files the knowledge of one of your favorite foods away for the future. The two of you eat together, little bits and pieces being given to Emmaline from your finger, and by the time you're finished, he's nearly worked up the nerve to start talking.

"So..." your voice trails, awkwardly, and you glance at him before looking away, finding a spot on the wall to study. Here goes nothing.

"I ah, wanted to explain, my behavior... from the other night." He starts, rubbing the nape of his neck. You watch him expectantly, Emmaline on your lap, and when he falters, you give him an encouraging nod.

"I'm listening."

"How I reacted, how I spoke to you was... unfair. It was cruel and I never want to make you upset, like that." You nod. "What I do- my job- it's... it can be dangerous. Stressful. Our last mission was difficult and I... operate in a different headspace at work. It's what keeps me alive. Makes me good at what I do." Skip the killing part, LT, Soap's voice reminds him, and he pushes on. "I was still decompressing, when you came to the door and I didn't want you to see me... like that."

"With your war paint." You quip, and he pauses, head cocked. "You had black stuff, around your eyes?"

"Yes, with my war paint. I didn't want you to..." He loses it for a second, flailing in the wind, mind scrambling as he tries to put the words together. Just say it. Tell the truth. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I don't think I could stand it. It's no excuse but, I guess, I thought you deserved an explanation."

"You're right." You say slowly. "It's not an excuse." You sigh, twirling a fork through the last of your noodles. "I'm not mad at you, not anymore. I just... it's hard you know. To put yourself out there, when you're a single mom. And a widow. I thought, maybe... you didn't-"

"I do." He cuts you off. "I... you and Emmaline, you're the best things that have happened in a long time. I-"

"Oh my god!" you gasp, and he instinctually startles, muscles going stiff as he surveys the flat.

"What?"

"It's snowing! Sorry, just uh..." You're already standing, hand half reaching towards him, excited smile on your face. "Emmaline's never seen snow before, can we... this is her first winter." You explain, and then move towards the balcony, fidgeting with his door lock, huffing in frustration when you can't figure it out.

"I got it." He says, not mentioning that it's custom, and slides it free, pushing the door wide so you can go outside. You're vibrating with joy, smile wide and big, and even Emmaline feels it, watching her mum, little face lit up the same as yours.

"Look, baby. Look!" You point, and then cup your palm, letting fat white flakes fall into your hand, tilting to show Emma, and she cackles with excitement, pudgy hand slapping against yours, bringing the melting snow to her mouth. You laugh with her, staring back up at the sky before glancing over to where he stands in the doorway, enraptured. The snow is caught in your hair, on your nose, in your eyelashes, the same as the baby, both of you glowing on his fucking balcony like angels on earth, sent to him from someone up there who might love him.

"Thanks, mum." he whispers to himself, to her, ducking inside to grab the blanket from the couch so he can wrap the two of you up in it to keep you at least a little warm and protected from the elements. "I wish you could have met them."

When he reappears, you're still catching flakes, this time with your tongue, hardly paying attention until he's settling the blanket on your shoulders and stepping back to watch, content to try to memorize every single second.

"Come here." You call, extending a hand, wiggling your fingers. "Try to catch one on your tongue." But he can't move.... he's too stunned, standing there before you, staring, and it gives you pause. "Simon." You whisper, head tipped back. The balcony lamp reflects in your eyes, snowflakes and yellow shine glowing back at him, the entire world lit up inside them, and his hand finds your cheek, cupping it with his bare palm, thumb stroking across the velvet that is your skin.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So, so sorry." His voice sounds thick, fractured, and you smile, leaning into him, Emmaline's warm weight between your bodies.

"I know... I... I understand now." You look away, for a second, taking a deep breath before blinking rapidly, tears just barely there on your waterline. "I can't... losing Emma's dad, before she was even born I- I can't... I don't want to go through anything like that again, Simon. I'm scared." It's a confession, horrifying and real, terrified and heartbreaking. All he can do is tell you the truth. Tell you what he feels. What he knows.

"You don't have to be scared." He murmurs, low and soft, other hand coming to gently support Emmaline's back. "Not with me. I promise you." What is he doing, what is he doing, what is he- what is he promising? To live forever? To never hurt you? To never let either of you be hurt? To claw his way back to you, even in death?

He looks down at you, at Emma, and the world freezes. He sees everything so clearly, the image of his future, of yours- a little house with a yard, another baby. Emmaline a big sister, so proud and excited. All of you tucked away somewhere secret and safe.

He takes a deep breath, exhale crystalizing in the air, water vapor falling like a halo around you, and his confession comes unbidden, so easily given to you. "I want to kiss you."

"Okay." You answer, and then he moves, closing the gap, slowly pressing his lips to the warmth of yours, blood pooling beneath his skin, heat flowing between your bodies. You taste like heaven, mouth sweet and easy for him, parting with a tiny gasp, and it overpowers him to the point where he thinks his knees might give out. He can't help but hold your closer, arm tightening around your back, finger stroking down the length of your spine-

Emma cries. It's not really a cry, more like a little shout, and you pull away abruptly, giggly expression on your face.

"What's wrong baby girl." He hums, patting her back, tucking the blanket tighter around your arm and her body.

"I think she's upset she's going to have to share you. You're her favorite nowadays, you know." You tease, and his grin is so heavy on his face, but so light at the same time, something completely foreign and wild, the breadth of happiness something he hasn't felt in so many years. "And she's probably cold."

"Should we go inside?" He motions, somewhat relieved to get both of you out of the cold, and when you nod, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing gently.

"We should."

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

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javiscigarette · 5 months

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Silent Night

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: You’re home for the holidays and Joel isn't gonna let a drinking contest or a house full of people stop him.

Warnings: PWP ofc, established relationship, mentions of drinking/alcohol, having to keep quiet?, oral (f&m receiving), thigh grinding, creampie, breeding kink, come play, getting caught, I think that's all lmk if I missed anything

w/c: 6.6k

a/n: hiii everyone! I am in fact alive! I'm finally on break from school and this is just a lil something I wrote real quick bc I've been in the holiday spirit since before October even ended hehehe :) Anyway, thank u to the actual loml @undrthelights for beta reading and finding the perfect pics!! It's nice to be back! Please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it, support is what keeps writers going!! Love u all!!

my masterlist

Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can be quiet” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse. "You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”

You can hear them downstairs, muffled sounds of Joel and several other of your family members talking and laughing while they sip on the fancy whiskey that your dad was saving for the occasion. You opted out of it, quickly taking up the offer of the first hour or two of alone time you’ve had since you arrived at your parents house two days ago instead. You figured Joel could use the time too, talking with your dad and uncles and cousins about whatever men talk about when they’re doing whiskey tasting in the mancave of a basement.

You managed to avoid getting roped into watching a shitty Hallmark Christmas movie with the rest of your family or helping them prep for the big dinner tomorrow. After successfully sneaking away to your old childhood bedroom that’s now redecorated as a simple guest room, you're left with nothing to do besides relax. First up was a long shower with the water so hot you nearly scalded your skin, and now you’re cozied up in bed, nose buried deep in the middle of your book while the rest of the house buzzed with muted background noise.

Time passes without you noticing, too engrossed in your book to keep track, but eventually the bedroom door creaks open, pulling you back to reality. You’re about to tell off whoever is at the door for interrupting you, but you immediately soften when Joel slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him.

He looks so sweet, wrapped up in a thick dark brown sweater, his curls flopping over his forehead, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose with a lopsided smile. His eyes are soft, warm, and a bit glassy as he looks at you like you’re the best thing he ever did see.

"Think your dad is trying to kill me" he says, his words slurring just a bit as he crosses the room over to the bed.

You giggle, watching him plop down on the bed on his back, his head rolling over to look at you, "Are you surprised? He does this to you every year."

It's true, every holiday at your parents house, your dad insists on the whiskey "tasting", which is really just him pouring heavy handed shots and glasses and seeing who's going to be the last one to tap out. Usually it's just him and his brothers in the end, hashing out some decades old sibling rivalry in the form of a drinking contest. And ever since the first time you brought Joel home for the holiday five years ago, your father has insisted on dragging him down there and challenging him too.

The first year was the worst with Joel not heeding any of your warnings about how much liquor your dad would actually push on him. Joel was so sick by the end of the night that he made best friends with the toilet and passed out on the couch, then spent most of the next morning with a massive hangover, apologizing profusely to your dad about it who just laughed and said that he can try again next year.

Thankfully, Joel knows his limits now and has made peace with the fact that he'll never beat your dad at his own game. It doesn't mean that the challenge doesn't still stand.

"No" he mumbles, a dopey smile spreading across his face, "Guess I jus' never expect him to pour shots big enough to knock out a horse"

"How many did you have this time?" You ask, bookmarking your place in the book before setting it aside, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting the pillows behind your back.

"Jus' three."

"Oh, so you are just a lightweight then?"

"I'm not a fuckin' lightweight" he grumbles with a dramatic pout.

You laugh as you turn to lay on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your hand instinctively falls to his hair, a small content sigh falling from his lips as your fingertips skate across his hairline and glide through his soft curls. scooting closer to him and reaching down to run your fingers through his hair, "Okay, baby" you hum, smiling when his eyes fall shut as your nails gently scratch his scalp, "If you say so."

Joel melts under your touch, like a cat basking in the sun, a lazy little grin on his face and a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. His face is still flushed, the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks a rosy shade of pink, his lips slightly parted, a few more stray curls falling across his forehead. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and the soft, tender look in his eyes when he finally looks back up at you melts you from the inside out.

You cup the side of his face in your hand and ;ean in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You're so cute when you're drunk" you murmur, moving kissing his cheek.

"M'not drunk"

You pull back to look him in the eye, smiling, "Sure you're not"

"I'm not" he whines, "M'just a lil' tipsy."

"Alright" you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his pouty lips.

Joel follows your mouth with the softest whine when you start to pull back, his large hand cupping the back of your head, holding you still while he kisses you, needy, but still so sweet. The taste of whiskey is heavy on his tongue as it slides against yours, a soft, satisfied noise rumbling in his chest when you part your lips further, kissing him deeper.

When he finally lets you break the kiss, you're left just a little breathless and dazed, a giddy feeling swirling low in your belly. His pupils are blown when he looks up at you, his lips spit slick and plump, a lopsided smile on his face. He turns a little more on his side facing you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt until his hand slips easily underneath like it was meant to be there. The warmth of his palm smoothing up and down the curve of your spine is soothing, his fingers gently tracing over your ribs and the dip of your waist, the slight scratch of his calluses over your skin sending a shiver down your spine.

His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your lips, licking his own. Realistically, you knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as he entered the bedroom. You know how he gets when he's like this, soft, sweet, and incredibly needy. With all the amount of times he tugged you into a bar bathroom after he's had a few, or when Tommy drops him off after a night out and he's already halfway to undressing you before the front door even shuts. You know he's trouble like this, but you can never deny him when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing he needs, the only thing he's ever needed.

He leans in to kiss you again, slow and sweet, his fingers splaying on your lower back and keeping you close. His mouth moves languidly against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing your bottle lip and his teeth sinking in the slightest bit to nip and tug, pulling a desperate little sound out from the back of your throat.

He sighs at the small sound and starts to lean into you more, using his weight to roll you over until you're flat on your back with him hovering above you, his forearms on either side of your head with his knees bracketing your hips. The kisses grow hungrier, wetter, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he's trying to breathe the very air from your lungs.

He shifts a bit and you moan softly into his mouth when his thigh slots between yours, the firm muscle of his thigh pushing right up against the apex of your thighs, the perfect amount of pressure to make heat spark and smolder in your belly. He does it again, rocking his thigh up against you just a little harder, swallowing the needy whimper that you let out, the heat and friction making you ache.

You can’t help but grind against his thigh, the seam of your sweatpants pressing against the damp spot that’s already forming on your panties and digging into your clit just right. You’re chasing the growing pleasure, the firmness of his thigh and the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his soft lips mixed with the faint trace of his peppermint toothpaste. You’d give anything to have him, for him to take you, but the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from downstairs is a rude reminder of reality.

"Joel" you warn with absolutely no heat in your voice, his lips grazing the sensitive spot under your ear, "We can't.”

He ignores you for a beat, crashing his lips back on yours and kissing you until he needs to come up for air.

"We can" he says, his voice gravelly and thick with want, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. "We're bein' real quiet"

His lips trail across the line of your jaw and up your cheek before landing on your mouth again. The slow, lazy drag of his tongue against yours makes you throb, another soft when escaping you and the muscles in your legs and stomach tightening as you make no effort to stop moving against his thigh.

“Everyone will hear us” you try feebly, knowing it’s futile.

Joel smirks against your lips, the bastard. “Nah. I’ll be quiet.”

You know he's a damn liar and a bad one at that. In what world could you be quiet with his hands and mouth on you, with his thick cock buried deep inside you, stretching you out and filling you up so good that your toes curl? And in what world could he be quiet, not running his mouth about how good you feel, how pretty you look stuffed full of him, how well you take him. You know exactly how it'll go, if the numerous failed previous attempts are anything to go by.

But then his lips are on the side of your neck, and you're forgetting why it matters. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips press gentle, wet kisses up and down the column of your throat, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching and tickling in the best way. You're quickly forgetting why this was a bad idea to begin with.

"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”

“I don’t- oh…”

The rest of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue as he pushes his thigh against you, grinding it up against your core in a way that has your head spinning and toes curling, the pleasure sharp and delicious as it melts into your veins.

“That’s right” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll do whatever I say, huh?”

There’s a pause and when you open your eyes, his are dark, his pupils blown wide, the deep brown nearly swallowed whole. His hair is tousled and curlier than ever, a few loose strands hanging in his face. His lips are slightly parted, swollen, red, and sick and shiny from your kisses. He’s an absolute sight and you can’t help but nod, eager to do whatever he wants, whatever he asks, because god it’s always worth it.

His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners and the lopsided smirk on his face widens. He’s the fucking devil.

Just the thought of him taking you with the rest of the house full of your extended family is making your veins buzz, excitement bubbling low in your belly. But you're well aware of just how thin the walls are and how nosy some members of your family are and you can't fathom how awkward it would be to come down for breakfast the next morning after the whole house heard you getting absolutely railed.

"It’ll be okay" he assures, reading your thoughts, his hands slipping under your shirt again. The fabric bunches up over his wrists as he slides his palms up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "M’not gonna let anyone else hear you. Just me."

Fuck.

His simple words are enough to convince you, not that you needed much convincing in the first place. He had you wrapped around his finger and him around yours, and there was no way you were going to say no to what you know will come next. A jolt of electricity shoots down your spine and settles hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach. Your resolve breaks, your legs falling open further, letting him get even closer, and Joel lets out a soft, happy noise against your mouth.

"Atta girl" he hums, his voice rough and deep, "So good for me, aren't ya baby?"

"Always" you manage to reply, the word more of a sigh as you arch your back, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's pebbled and hard.

He gives into you easily, tugging your shirt up and over your head. His mouth lands on your chest as soon as it’s exposed, immediately licking and kissing across your collarbones and the swell of your breast. He noses along the valley between them, the coarse hair of his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he nips and sucks at the supple flesh until a red mark rises to the surface.

You squirm beneath him, his leg still nestled perfectly between yours and pressing against you every time he shifts. The pressure is building in your gut, your clit aching and throbbing. The feeling is almost too much with his hot wet mouth now wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak making it harder and harder for you to keep quiet.

“Joel,” you hiss, the word half warning and half plea.

“Hush, baby” he mumbles against your skin. His fingers replace his mouth, pinching and teasing your swollen, spit-slick nipple as he kisses across your chest to lavish your other nipple with the same attention.

“Gotta be quiet, remember?” he says when he pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. “Unless you want everyone hearin’ ya”

You open your mouth to say something in protest, to tell him that he’s making things a lot harder right now, but then he starts moving, sliding down the bed and the words die in your throat. The look he gives you as he settles on his stomach between your thighs is sinful, his eyes dark and mischievous, his lips pulled up into a smirk.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats, slowly pulling them along with your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bare. Your stomach swoops at the sight of his eyes trained to your center and your thighs twitch, wanting to snap shut and hide. But his hands on both of your thighs keep you spread open for him. You swallow thickly, your breath catching in your throat, the anticipation building in the pit of your belly as your slick starts to drip down the cleft of your ass.

Joel’s mouth falls open slightly, a shaky breath escaping him. “Fuck, baby” he sighs, tongue darting out to lick his cherry red lips, his eyes glazing over. A small, content smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, a swell of pride blossoming in your chest. He looks wrecked, like a starving man eyeing his first meal, and the way he's looking at you so intently, like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the thing that's kept him alive all these years, is making your heart pound almost painfully in your chest.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he praises, his hand running along the inside of your thigh. “And all mine.”

Like he can’t wait another second, he’s leaning in and licking a long, wet stripe up your center, dragging his tongue through your folds from your leaking hole to your swollen, needy clit. The feeling of his tongue on you pulls a soft, broken sound from you. You clap your hand over your mouth as your head spins, a rush of pleasure washing over you making the muscles in your thighs and stomach twitch and flex.

He does it again and again, and every time his tongue flicks over the swollen bud, you let out a soft whine that sounds far too loud in the otherwise quiet room.

He groans against you, his mouth already wet and messy as he laps at your pussy like he's starving for it, like he would die without tasting you. His eyes are locked on yours, the look in them so dark and primal that it makes your walls clench, more slick freely leaking out of you and onto his tongue. He laps it up happily, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you steady as his mouth works your clit.

He lets out a quiet, breathy moan when you slide your hand through his hair once again, your fingers tangling in and pulling on the soft brown strands. His eyes flutter shut, a shuddery exhale falling from his parted lips, and the feeling of his warm breath fanning over your wet, sensitive center has you stifling another high pitched whimper.

You roll your hips up against his face, desperate for more, and he gets the hint, the flat of his tongue swiping up through your folds a few more times before he dips it into your entrance, pushing in and out while his nose nudges at your clit. You're writhing beneath him, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to be quiet but failing miserably, soft, desperate little noises pouring out of your mouth. You know he's loving it too, making no effort to keep your noises at bay, not giving a single fuck about who might hear.

He moans against your cunt, the vibrations making you jolt, your hips rolling up to meet him. You're panting, the hand that isn't buried in his hair gripping the sheets tight enough that your knuckles turn white, and your back arches when his tongue fucks in and out of you faster, rougher.

"Joel, fuck" you gasp, "I- I'm-

He growls, the sound muffled by your pussy, the vibrations and the feeling of his stubble dragging along your inner thighs making your toes curl, the familiar coil in your belly tightening, your thighs trembling.

He doubles down, bringing a hand between your legs to replace his tongue with two thick fingers sinking into you and curling up against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, his mouth and hand working in tandem to pull you apart.

"Fuck, I'm close" you whimper, his fingers crooking against that spot inside of you, sending white hot fire coursing through your veins as your slick leaks down his fingers and into his palm like hot honey.

He hums, sucking your clit between his lips, and your legs clamp around his head, your hand tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, your back arching off the mattress, a muffled, broken moan spilling out from behind your hand. He fucks you through it, his tongue flattening out against your clit while the tips of his fingers rub against that sweet spot inside of you, sending more sparks of pleasure tingling up and down your spine.

When it's too much, when the sensitivity makes tears prick in the corners of your eyes, you make a feeble attempt to push him away. He pulls back, sitting up on his knees, his chin and cheeks wet with your slick, his pupils blown so wide that the brown is almost completely swallowed up by black. He stares at you, his gaze so heavy and intense that it makes another shiver run down your spine.

"You're not being very quiet" he smirks as he moves off the bed to stand up.

You roll your eyes, still coming down from the aftershocks, your thighs quivering, "Yeah, no shit" you mutter, propping yourself up on your elbows.

He chuckles as he pulls off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath it before he starts unbuckling his belt and working on his jeans. You sit up, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out and batting his hands away, taking over and quickly unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down.

He doesn't protest, letting you push his jeans and boxers down his legs until he kicks them all the way off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, flushed a deep red with slippery precum beading at the tip. You reach out, wrapping your hand around the base and taking a moment or two to revel in the familiar weight and warmth of him in your hand.

He shudders, a low moan rumbling in his chest, his eyes slipping shut as his hand moves to cup the back of your head. He watches you intently as you take your time, lazily stroking him, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the leaking tip and tracing the throbbing veins that run along the sides. His breathing grows heavy, his jaw clenching and his stomach muscles twitching as he tries so hard not to buck his hips up into the loose circle of your fist.

"C'mon, sweetheart" he pleads, the words leaving his mouth as a low, breathless groan, "Get me all nice and wet for you."

He doesn't have to ask twice. You lean forward and you dart your tongue out to lap up the bead of precum, humming at the salty, bitter taste of it, swirling the flat of your tongue over the head of his cock, your hand pumping the rest of his shaft. His breath catches in his throat, a stuttered curse falling from his lips when you dip your tongue into the slit, teasing more precum out.

He groans, his grip on the back of your head tightening, urging you to take him into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. You sink down, flattening your tongue and taking him all the way until he hits the back of your throat, the tip of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. You breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing around him, and the deep, guttural groan that he lets out has you squirming, slick leaking out of your cunt and onto the sheets below.

"There ya go" he pants, his head lolling back, "Oh, baby, that's it. S'fuckin' perfect."

You pull off, a string of spit and precum connecting his cock to your bottom lip, and you look up at him through your lashes.

"Need to be quiet" you remind him, "Or else I'll stop"

He lets out a shaky breath and nods, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's not used to keeping quiet, not used to not telling you how good you feel, not used to not begging you to let him cum in that low, raspy tone that never fails to make you weak.

"I'll be good," he whispers, breathless and needy. "Promise."

Your stomach swoops at his words, arousal burning bright in your belly. Unable to stay away for much longer, you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. His hips jerk, another drop of precum leaking out. You lick it up, swirling your tongue around the sensitive, swollen tip before sinking down again. You take him into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him, bobbing your head slowly and steadily.

He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood trying with all his might to keep his noises in as you drool all over his cock. He can't take his eyes off you, watching the way he disappears into the slick heat of your mouth. You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around him, spit dripping down his cock and leaking out the corners of your mouth while your eyes water as you take him as far as you can.

You take him deeper, and you swallow, your throat convulsing around him, and the way his whole body shudders makes you smile, proud of the effect you have on him. He's so big and thick, and you both know you can't fit him all the way down your throat, but seeing you try your best is enough to make his thighs start to shake.

His cock hits the back of your throat again and again, the tip dipping into the soft, warm, tight space, and Joel's breathing is getting heavier and faster, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitted together.

"Shit" he grits out under his breath, "That's it, sweetheart. That's fuckin' it."

The praise goes straight between your legs, a fresh wave of slick leaking out of you and it's too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand between your thighs and rub circles around your clit, moaning softly around his cock.

He hisses, his eyes snapping down, watching your hand disappear between your legs.

"Are you touchin' yourself?" he asks, the words coming out rough and choked, his eyebrows raised.

You nod, sliding a finger into yourself, and you pull off his cock, panting, a thin strand of spit connecting the head to your bottom lip.

"Can't help it" you whine pathetically, your voice already raspy from how far his cock had been down your throat.

Joel groans, his dick twitching, and he's had enough. He takes a step back, and you let go, a little confused and worried that you've done something wrong. But he just takes hold of your arms and yanks you off the bed, his strong hands easily manhandling you, and then he's pushing you, turning you around and bending you over the side of the mattress.

"Oh" you breathe out, bracing yourself on your forearms, arching your back, sticking your ass up in the air.

You don't have to wait long for him to move. His hand is smoothing over your ass, the other one guiding his cock towards your sopping cunt. He teases the tip between your folds, spreading your slick and dragging his head over your swollen clit a few times before lining himself up and sinking in.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, letting out a stuttering breath, the familiar, delicious burn of his thick cock stretching you out making your eyes roll back into your head. You've made peace with the face that you'll never be used to his size. It'll always be too much, the feeling of him pushing into, forcing your walls to make room for him will always make you clench and shiver.

He's got his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he bottoms out, his hips flush with the curve of your ass with the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. He holds himself there for a moment, both of you adjusting to the feeling, and you're trying so hard not to moan, to keep your noises muffled by the mattress, and you know Joel's struggling too, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed.

"Good girl" he whispers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, "Taking my cock so well, aren't ya?"

You nod, whimpering, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

He pulls back and thrusts back in, setting a steady, slow rhythm, the wet slide of his cock making the most obscene sounds. And it's driving you crazy, the need to let out loud, your chest burning with the effort of keeping your noises in. He keeps his pace slow, not wanting to make more noise with his hips snapping against your ass. It’s nearly tortuous though, the drag of his cock in and out of you so slow that you can feel every ridge as he takes his sweet time. You can only handle it for a few moments before the tingling hints of pain from the stretch subside and the burning need for him to fuck you senseless takes over.

"Joel" you whine, "Faster, please."

He leans over you, his front pressed against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You're not gonna stay quiet if I do," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, "Just take what I give you, sweetheart."

You're so worked up, the slow pace makes you even more desperate for him, and you can't help it, you need more, and you reach a hand back and grab his hip, urging him to speed up.

"I-I'll try" you promise, "Please, just- Just fuck me, Joel, please"

He hesitates, but the way you're squirming beneath him is so tempting, and the way his cock is throbbing and dripping inside of you is telling him that he needs more too.

Before you can say anything else, he's pulling back, the thick, heavy weight of him sliding out of you. You whimper at sudden empty feeling but you don't have time to complain before he's flipping you over onto your back and scooting you up the bed before climbing on top of you. You can’t help but notice how big he is, the muscles flexing smoothly in his strong arms that box you in as he hovers above you, nearly encompassing your entire body underneath his. His mouth is on yours before you can even blink, his tongue slipping past your lips and kissing you like his life depends on it.

He settles between your legs, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, his cock dragging along your clit again warm and heavy, and you gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth. You're squirming again, desperate to feel him stretch you out more and he takes mercy on you, reaching between your bodies and grabbing the base of his cock, guiding the thick head towards your entrance.

"Gotta be quiet, baby" he warns, his eyes boring into yours as he looks down at you. "Those pretty noises are just for me, yeah? Can't have anyone hearin' 'em."

You nod frantically and the next second he's pushing in, the fat head of his cock forcing its way into you and bottoming out in one smooth motion. You let out a gasp that's definitely too loud but Joel is quick to remedy it, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, his fingers splaying across your cheek.

"Shh" he shushes you, his hips rolling, the slow, lazy drag of his cock against your walls making you clench around him. Your eyes roll back, your back arching as his hand stops all the whiny little sounds you can't help but make. He continues to fuck you slow and deep, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing softly in the room.

You can't take your eyes off him, watching his eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he fucks you, his brows knitted together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He looks beautiful like this, sweat glistening on his skin, his jaw tight, and his eyes shut tight, his mouth hanging open with his breaths coming out in soft, barely audible pants.

"Mmm" he hums, his hips picking up speed, his cock pushing impossibly deeper. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby. Fuck."

You reflexively clench around him and a shudder runs through his whole body.

"Gettin' real tight" he pants, "Tryna milk the cum right outta me, huh? Tryna make me fill up that pretty pussy?"

You whimper into his palm, your pussy fluttering, a fresh wave of slick coating his cock, and he groans, his hips picking up speed.

"S'what you want?" he asks in a hushed tone, his hand still pressed firmly over your mouth. "You want me to fill you up? Make a mess of that pretty pussy? Breed you until you're fuckin' stuffed, baby girl?"

Your back arches off the bed, the coil in your belly so tight that you think you might pass out. He's rambling, his thrusts losing rhythm, his breathing getting ragged and choppy, his chest heaving and his thighs shaking.

"That's it" he coaxes when you tighten around him even more, "Can feel it, can feel how close you are. Go on, baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel that tight, wet cunt cum all over my cock, please, baby."

His hips snap forward, his cock pushing deep into you, the tip rubbing against the spongy spot deep inside you that makes the coil in your belly finally snap. Your eyes roll back, a muffled, broken moan falling from your lips as your entire body convulses, your orgasm washing over you and making your toes curl as your walls flutter around his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

Joel lets out a deep, low groan, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. His hand slips away from your mouth so he can grip your hips with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place so he can chase after his own release. His chest is tight as he holds in his grunts and groans, but it’s barely any use with the lewd noises that fill the room as your pussy gushes around him, your slick leaking past the tight seal of your walls around him and dripping down to his balls.

"Oh, shit, baby. Christ,” he chokes out, his stomach muscles clenching as his hips slam into yours, his cock pushing impossibly deeper and harder. “Keep makin’ a mess, keep lettin’ me feel it. That’s it. Fuckin’ hell.”

You can feel his cock starting to throb inside of you and you know he’s close. And you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, the need to let him know just how good he’s making you feel is destroying any bit of common sense.

“Want you to fill me up,” you whine. “Please, Joel, wanna feel it.”

That’s all it takes. His jaw clenches, his nose scrunching as his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches and pulses as he buries himself as deep as he can get before spilling into, filling you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. His hips jerking and stuttering d you clench around him, squeezing and milking him for everything he has while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his broken, ragged moans against your skin.

"So good,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

The praise goes straight between your legs and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He lifts his head, his palm resting on your cheek as he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, kissing you languidly. His hips rock back and forth lazily, pushing his cum in as deep as he can get it. You melt into the bed underneath him, the only things keeping you tethered to the earth being your fingers combing through his hair and your legs tightening around his waist.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, and you're both left panting, trying to catch your breath. You listen to the muffled sounds of people downstairs, the movie playing and their drunken voices filtering in through the door, and Joel must be thinking the same thing because he chuckles.

"Well" he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheekbone, "I don't think anyone heard us."

"You better hope they didn't" you retort, a grin on your face. Joel rolls his eyes. "That's a weird way to say thank you" he teases. You start to laugh, but the sound dies in your throat, morphing to a whimper instead when he starts pulling out his softening cock.

"Joel" you whine, but he doesn't stop. "Joel, please. It's-"

He's not listening, he's too focused on the way his cock looks when he pulls out. The tip slips out of you, and the rest follows, and his eyes widen as he watches a string of thick, sticky cum stretch from the tip of his cock to your cunt. It breaks, falling to your thigh, and he licks his lips. He can't tear his eyes away, watching the way your cunt flutters, and his cum starts to drip out, running down your slit, the obscene sight making Joel's spent cock twitch.

"Shit" he mutters under his breath, "Ain't that a pretty picture."

He reaches down, dragging a finger through the mess of cum and slick and gathering it on his finger before pushing it back into your cunt. You clench around the digit before he sighs and pulls it back out.

"Gonna be leaking all day tomorrow" he murmurs, almost to himself.

You whimper, the thought of having him dripping out of you all day like that has renewed arousal already seeping into your veins.

“It’s okay” he assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care ya. Clean you up and put my cock back in right where it belongs, how’s that sound, hm?”

You sigh, nodding, a wave of fatigue washing over you. “Sounds perfect,” you agree.

You watch as he climbs off of you and starts to move, but a sudden, sharp sound of knuckles knocking on the other side of the bedroom door makes you both freeze.

“You two are fucking disgusting!” the voice of your cousin calls out, accompanied by the sound of a couple other people giggling and laughing. “Put some goddamn clothes on and get down here!”

You and Joel exchange glances, his eyes wide and apologetic, his cheeks burning bright red as you give him a look that says I told you so.

“Alright, alright, we’re coming” he yells back.

“We’re coming! Oh, yeah we’re coming!” another voice teases, the sound of everyone bursting out laughing quickly follows.

“We’re never doing that again” Joel mutters and you can’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that”

Thank you for reading!!! Plsss let me know if you enjoyed hehehe

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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hairmetal666 · 2 months

Text

Steve parks at Eddie's, a plastic wrapped bouquet of roses so purple they're almost black carefully buckled into the passenger seat, and a nervous twist to his stomach. He didn't plan to do this. It's just, he was agonizing about his crush to Robin and she goaded him until it seemed like a great fucking idea to ask Eddie out on Valentine's Day, of all days.

The flowers were an accident. He saw them in the front window of the little flower shop in town, and it felt like fate, like they were practically made for Eddie Munson.

With a deep breath and a gritted teeth, he swings out of the car, flowers in hand. He's doing this, he's got this, he can ask Eddie out.

Music rocks from the trailer, drowning out Steve's knock. They didn't exactly have plans tonight, only they hangout every night since Vecna, so he figured...well, Eddie never said they weren't getting together.

He's a little miffed when his knock isn't answered. Even when the music is up, the walls of the trailer vibrating, Eddie always comes to the door. But the minutes tick by with no response until the annoyance turns to anxiety.

He stretches over, up on tiptoe, craning through the window to see if he can spot Eddie, probably distracted by planning for dnd or working on a song.

The kitchen is deserted, pots steaming on the stove. The two-seater table is covered in one of those paper tablecloths they have at Melvald's for a buck, patterned with bright red hearts. The table is set, two plates, two beers, a candle burning in the center of it all.

God, he's stupid. So stupid, with his nearly black flowers and his silly crush. Of course Eddie already had someone to spend Valentine's Day with.

He stumbles down the stairs, stomach fighting up his throat. The loud music makes so much sense now. He has to leave. He can't stand the thought of Eddie finding him here, letting him down easy; can stand even less seeing him with the date he has over.

Steve almost makes it back to the car before he hears the screen door slam, Eddie's voice calling his name. For a second, he considers ignoring him; for a second, he thinks about jumping in the car and driving off and forgetting this ever happened. But he could never do that to Eddie, not even when the consequence is his own heart.

"Oh, uh. Hey, man," Steve says. He runs his fingers through his hair, swallows. "Didn't mean to interrupt, thought we had plans but I guess they weren't set in stone." He's rambling and he knows it, but can't stop. "I didn't realize you--I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie's eyes flicker from Steve to the flowers clutched in his fist, the wrapping now sweaty and rumpled. "Are those for me?" Eddie asks.

Steve's mouth open and closes a few times, thrown off the track of his monologue and trying to think of a plausible lie. "I--they're--it's--"

There's nothing for it. He has to tell the truth and eat the humiliation. "I saw them today and--They're perfect for you. So, I wanted--" he shakes his head, shoves the bouquet into Eddie's arms. "Happy Valentine's Day. I'll let you get back to your date."

Eddie's face scrunches and it would be cute except for all the way Steve's heart is breaking. "Aren't you my date?"

"What?"

"Steve. We hang out every night. I thought--"

"But. For me--" He splutters. "The table?"

"Harrington, it's Valentine's Day! You bought me flowers!"

"Yeah, cause I was going to ask you out!"

This is what breaks Eddie, and he bursts out into helpless giggles.

"Don't laugh at me, Munson." But he's starting to laugh too.

"I'm sorry! I just--you," and Eddie isn't laughing anymore, he's looking at Steve with clear, shining eyes. "You brought me flowers."

Steve sobers too, hands over the bouquet. "I brought you flowers. You made me dinner."

"Yeah." He glances up at Steve from under his eyelashes. "I made you dinner."

"Sorry for--" He gestures broadly around himself.

Eddie shakes his head, soft smile on his lips. "You're something else, Stevie." The words are so fond they make Steve's heart flip. "Now, come inside before the food gets cold."

Steve walks to do the door, pausing before he climbs the stairs.

"What is it?" Eddie's eyebrows lift.

"Nothing. Just--" Steve licks his lips, notices the way Eddie tracks the movement. "I'm really falling for you, is all."

"No duh," Eddie says with a broad, smitten grin. "You bought me flowers."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harringon #eddie munson #ficlet #valentine's day #friends to lovers #fluff #a smidge of angst #misunderstanding #oblivious steve harrington #idiots in love #they're not dating but they're not NOT dating #getting together #feelings confession #no duh #working on a steddie “no duh” agenda now i guess

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queerpumpkinnn · 9 months

Text

Two Doors Down

2.5k words

Summary: Your vibrator dies mid-session, so your roommate offers to help you out.

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: smut obviously, dom/sub dynamics, brief use of a vibrator, brief dry humping, cunnilingus, slight hair pulling (bucky receiving), pet names (sweet ones like honey, baby, etc. but also some on the more degrading side),scratching (bucky receiving), a healthy dose of degradation, nipple play, finger sucking, unprotected piv sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, dumbification, slight edging but if you blink you'll miss it, let me know if I'm missing something!

While listening, I recommend you listen to enemies to lovers - a Spotify playlist by me!

"God fucking damn it!"

Your frustrated curse echoed off the walls of your bedroom, followed by a dull thump of your vibrator falling on the mattress. You sat up begrudgingly and flopped over the bed, reaching for the charger and plugging in the toy.

You huffed, sitting on the bed for a few moments before tugging your shorts back on and standing, leaving your bedroom to go explore the great unknown: your apartment.

The sound of the television was more audible when your door opened, the white and blue lights from the TV tinting the entire living room and kitchen area in a cold glow. While your eyes needed a second to adjust to the change from the dim, warm light of your room, Bucky, your roommate, was staring blankly at the television, listening to the newscaster droning on while sifting through a bowl of cereal with a spoon.

You didn't greet him, despite the tiny alarm in your head telling you it was bad manners. You stomped past him, headed for the fridge to find leftover pasta. Once a bowl was heated up, you stomped around over to the couch, flopping down beside him.

Bucky raised a brow. "You doin' alright?" He asked through a mouthful of cereal.

"Yeah."

"Then stop stabbing your pasta."

You looked down to see your fork digging into the bottom of the bowl, spearing through the noodles with more aggression than was necessary.

"I'm fine."

"Wanna tell me?"

Your mind raced just at the thought of his suggestion. "No. Nothing's wrong."

"Ah." He turned back to the television, one leg crossing over the other. "Thought it might have somethin' to do with your vibrator dying on you."

You nearly choked, head whipping around to watch him incredulously. "How-"

"TV ain't on that loud." He snorted.

You buried your face in your palms, cheeks warm. Bucky only laughed at your mortification.

"Hey, it's all good." Bucky waved a hand in dismissal, you caught it as you lifted your head. Your gaze somehow got stuck on it, specifically, his fingers. The thought of them on you made the heat in between your legs flare up again. You could practically feel them tilting your chin up, tugging your hips closer, prodding into your cunt...

Bucky seemed to notice your sudden interest, looking between your eyes to his hand and back with curiosity. He let out a soft 'ah', a grin of delight splitting his face. When you finally clocked in on his understanding, silent but knowing, you looked down in what was definitely the least subtle way possible.

"Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I can't remember a time when hands didn't get the job done."

That didn't help your embarrassment, and for some reason you continued the conversation. "Well, I can't get the right angle..."

Bucky exhaled, passing his tongue over his teeth. "Tell me to shut up if I've got the wrong idea. But I have hands." You peeked out from your hands. He wiggled his metal fingers slowly as if to prove the obvious. "I think you've noticed."

All of the thoughts you'd wrestled with moments ago came flooding in again. Sparks of excitement shot down your belly, and you swore your heartrate doubled.

You attempted to keep an even voice, but nonchalance definitely escaped you for the timebeing. "So... what's your point?"

You were terrified you might have misread the situation. That this excitement would die down and you'd be left wanting him. You needed him to tell you.

"My point is," Bucky uncrossed his legs, turning to face you and leaning forward. "That I'm offering to do what your vibrator can't."

You were shivering with excitement, voice shaking as you sighed,

"Please."

Bucky stood slowly, pushing off of the couch with his hands. His gaze was fixated on you, bordering on ravenous as he eyed you up and down. He relished the way your eyes followed his, and as a result, when he finally towered over you, he was met with a sight that made his cock throb.

You could feel your head turning cloudy, anticipation bubbling in your stomach as you peered up at Bucky. A single, metal hand came up to your chin, stroking slowly over the bone. Your eyes fluttered, leaning into his touch.

"Poor thing." Bucky tutted, shaking your head side to side a bit. "So pitiful. Can't even get off right, needs a toy to get the job done."

You whimpered when he used his grip on your jaw to make you nod yes.

"Shh, you're okay. 'M right here, gonna take good care of you. Yeah?"

"Yeah," you replied weakly.

"Good." Bucky let go of your face, opting to sit on the couch instead, legs spread wide. He patted one of his thighs, gesturing with the other. "C'mon, take a seat."

You crawled over him, hands resting on his shoulders tentatively. Bucky traced a finger up the column of your throat, sending a shiver down your spine. The pressure on the underside of your jaw brought your gaze upwards.

"Gonna need you to keep your eyes on me, dove, think y'can do that?"

You nodded slowly, itching to move but frozen in place by his attention.

"Good." Bucky's hand was a whisper around your throat, quickly finding its home again on your jaw. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, to which your mouth fell open oh so slightly.

His lips quirked in amusement. His thumb pressed down, earning your jaw lowering further. Two fingers slipped past your lips to settle on your tongue and you happily took them, one hand coming to hold his wrist in place while you suckled.

His free hand began rising up your hips, and you straightened your posture at the feeling, almost tickling. They descended just after his thumb grazed your lower chest. You gasped around his fingers, and his subtle raise of brow made your cheeks heat.

You squeezed his wrist, and it moved from your mouth to your waist. Hands reaching for the back of his neck, you tugged him forward into a sloppy kiss.

Bucky wasn't sure where the line was before. He understood that he had struck a purely sexual deal offer, so kissing for some might be too intimate an exchange under those circumstances, but Christ did he love the feel of your mouth on his. The clash of teeth and spit, your soft moans swallowed up into his own mouth sounding like heaven. Even more so when he sucked on your tongue, pride coursing through his veins when you squeaked.

And oh, you just couldn't help it, when you started rocking your hips back and forth. It was his fault really, teasing you so much.

"So fuckin' needy, angel, just can't wait, huh?" Bucky groaned, head falling back for a minute before jerking back up. "Need to get you taken care of, isn't that right?"

You nodded pathetically, brain long turned to mush. Your senses, every atom in your body was on fire and so, so sensitive, but your head was empty.

And Bucky knew it.

Which is why he lifted you up, strong hands supporting you under the thighs, which wrapped around his torso to keep you up. Bucky groaned, the feel of your legs around his waist sending blood rushing to his cock.

It was a messy trip to your room, to say the least. Bucky had to stop multiple times in the hallway to press you up against the wall and stick his tongue in your throat, rutting into you and breathing heavy into your mouth. His groans were pure sin and you wanted to pull as many of them from him as you could.

Bucky set you down gently, but as you laid, he remained, towering over you with hungry eyes and bated breath.

"Look at you," Bucky grazed his metal fingers over your cheek. "So fuckin' needy, hm? So desperate, you just hop on the first dick you see."

His words didn't even register, not when his leg was pressed right between your legs, so you nodded along dumbly.

He chuckled, almost a bark of a laugh. "Lucky I'm here to take care of you, hm?"

"Yeah," you sighed, your feeble grip on his shirt attempting to tug him closer. "Please, Bucky, need you to take care of me, please..."

"Alright, alright, I've gotcha." Bucky leaned in, pressing wet kisses to your neck whilst his fingers slipped under your shirt, grazing feather-light over your nipples. You could feel him smirk when you arched into his touch.

"Can we take this off, baby?" His voice was soft, and you nodded, pulling your hands up so he could bare your chest.

Bucky gave a groan at the sight, his mouth traveling downward to press licks and kisses over your chest. He pressed his palm over your ribs, indicating you to lie back. Bucky followed, propped up on his arm. His other hand walked up the inside of your thigh, making you shudder into him.

"Buck, please," you breathed, eyes rolling back.

"Nuh uh, none of that." Bucky's hand was quick to reach up and grasp your jaw, this time with more force. "Eyes on me."

He nodded your head for you. He maintained a more intense stare as he moved, slowly and deliberately, down between your thighs. He watched you as he kissed up and down your thighs, pressed his thumb into the junction between your cunt and your leg, pressed a firm kiss to the area just above your clit. Your hips jerked up, following his touch.

"I know, I know. Bein' so patient, so proud of you." Bucky purred, tugging your bottoms down in one go. "And would you look at that, no underwear. God, you're soaked."

Bucky actually moaned at the sight, like the idea of going down on you was pleasurable for him. And Lord, was it.

He started with, for lack of better word, toying with you, thumbs pulling your lips apart to watch your slick web from them. Even though he wasn't watching your face anymore, your eyes were glued to him. His fascinated expression, his strong arms holding your legs apart, his toned back rippling under every movement- somewhere along the line he had lost the shirt; you couldn't remember when but Christ was it better he did.

You nearly levitated off the bed when a finger came to collect your slick onto your clit, followed by lips attaching to the nerves and tonguing over it lasciviously.

Your hesitancy to make noise had gone out the window the minute his mouth was on you, jaw falling open to let out your sounds of bliss. The only thing keeping your head from falling back was the sight in front of you; Bucky was pure sex incarnate. His head swayed back and forth, groans and muffled praises vibrating against your skin, hair tickling your thighs.

"Taste so damn good angel, so fuckin' wet." Bucky tugged you impossibly closer- you swore you saw his hips moving into the sheets. "Should let your vibrator die more often."

Your breath had all but escaped you, coming out ragged and whiny. Your hands reached for his hair, tugging at the roots softly- harder when he groaned louder, sending both of you into a frenzy.

"Fuck, Bucky, right there, fuckfuckfuck-" your noises, if even possible, got louder when the man under you found just the right spot to prod his finger. It slipped in so easily, the wetness helping you welcome him in.

It didn't take Bucky long to figure out where that spot was inside of you, pulling moan after gasp after cry of his name once he bullied his fingers into it just right. He repeated the motion until there was a sheen of sweat on your forehead, grasping onto his hair, his arm, whatever of him you could find as if he was your lifeline.

"Oh, just like that, so close Buck..." You kicked your hips up into his face, rolling them for any kind of friction you could get- friction he was elated to give you.

You nearly sobbed when he pulled his face away from you, fingers leaving your pussy feeling unbearably empty.

"I know, honey, I know. Gonna give you something even better, hm? Gonna give you my cock, fill y'up real nice."

You almost drooled at the sight of Bucky sat up, nothing but sweats being hastily pulled down until the bulge fell heavily over the band. He kicked his bottoms away to some forgotten corner, stroking himself languidly a few times, kicking his head back.

You whined a bit at the lack of attention, thighs pressing together. That seemed to have alerted Bucky, as he tilted his head back down to face you. "Sorry, sunshine. Won't keep you waitin' any longer, yeah?"

Bucky lined himself up with you, teasing your sopping entrance with the tip. However, when your legs hooked around his waist, just like before, all notions of control were lost on him as he sheathed himself inside of you. A guttural groan, more sensual and more animalistic than before, ripped through him and sent sparks shooting into you. He stretched you deliciously, the friction electrifying.

"Don't fuckin' clench, holy shit- not gonna last long," Bucky huffed, rocking slowly into you. He was leaned over your body, almost folding you in half so that he could mutter filthy praises into your ear, tonguing at the shell of it lightly.

If he wasn't gonna last, what could be said of you? Your orgasm was approaching fast, if your throbbing cunt and frantic moans were any indication.

"There we go, y'gonna cum? Fuckin' cum for me, honey, make a mess on my cock, go on."

White-hot pleasure drowned you as you scratched faint pink lines down Bucky's chest. This time your eyes screwed shut, but Bucky chose instead to help you ride out your high, pistoning into you until he let himself go, filling you up in a way that left you feeling warm and full and very, very satisfied.

Only the sound of yours and Bucky's panting could be heard in the room, the air suddenly thick and musky with the smell of sex.

After a moment, he pulls out, murmuring 'shit' to himself a few times. "Gonna get you cleaned up, 'kay?" Bucky pressed a kiss to your temple, picking his boxers up on the way to his ensuite bathroom and coming back with a rag a minute later.

"Feeling alright?" Bucky asks. "Didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, you were great." You huffed, a stupid hazy grin tugging your lips. "Bit thirsty, that's about it."

"Noted," he mused. "I meant it, by the way."

You cocked your head. "Meant what?"

"You should let your vibrator die more often. I'm just two doors down, and I reckon I know a few more tricks than that piece of junk you've got." He gestures to the vibrator, which had fallen onto the floor at some point.

You definitely made sure to keep that in mind.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Marvel Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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bayjaruchel · 6 months

Text

Never Too Much

－－－

Pairing: Mike Schmidt (2023)/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: There are certain things that your boyfriend really likes to do. (2.2k, mostly cunnilingus | originally posted on ao3) | Masterlist )

－－－

Mike takes his time with you, when he can.

He likes being able to pace himself. By now, he knows your body very well; every curve and harsh edge, every single little detail. He's traced up your contours with his fingertips and kissed all the way back down again. Even though he's generally not the best at keeping calm, he's a very patient lover when given the chance to be. After your first few— and frantic — times together, he's slowed down considerably.

However, there are still exceptions to that pattern.

Like when you don't have the time for anything slow; such as the minutes before he has to get ready for work. When you're both still a little groggy, but still need each other. Or when he knows he won't be free for most of the day, and you want to make it up to him. You fumble for each other, a determined clash of hands and lips and warm skin, both desperate to make the other person finish first. The sheets get twisted awkwardly around his legs— the hardwood floor makes your knees sore— but it's completely and utterly worth it. For every time you can't properly make love— in the purest definition of the phrase— there's always going to be a time when you leave each other completely breathless and spent afterward. No matter the technique, he's mastered the art of thoroughly taking you apart.

There is one specific thing that Mike just can't be patient with, though.

"Shit—"

He's always been eager to eat you out.

No matter the time or place. It could be during one of those brief periods, or during the long hours of the night where you have all the time in the world. He just can't wait. And he isn't waiting right now, even redoubling his efforts when you tighten your grip in his hair. His head bobs, slightly, as he drags his tongue through your gathering wetness, up towards the aching apex of your pleasure.

A gasp is punched from your lungs when Mike closes his lips around your clit and sucks, for just a moment, before returning to your cunt. He shifts forward to get even deeper than before, lapping at you in broad strokes, equally calculated and clumsy. His enthusiasm is palpable, as usual. The sounds he's making— almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then that send pleasant vibrations through you— they fill the air, easily overpowering everything else. His eyelashes flutter now and then, but occasionally he looks up at you, taking you in. You know how you look: nearly as disheveled as him.

Your thighs twitch as he continues to savor you. Whenever he moves back up to gently flick your clit with his tongue, his breath comes in hot puffs through his nostrils. He always takes a deep inhale before diving back in, totally uncaring towards the way his spit and your slick must be dripping down his chin. He's not afraid to get messy. In fact, you think he likes it— he likes the evidence of your arousal clinging to your stubble, the knowledge of what he does to you. The knowledge of what he can do to you. "Mike," you gasp again, "oh, fuck. That's— that's so good— "

His mouth is still occupied, but he hums, muffled into your cunt. The praise has always done something for him. But you don't just say it because he likes it— you say it because you mean it, truly. The fact that you can see his hips shift a little at your words is just an added bonus. He hasn't even attempted to reach down to touch himself yet, even though you know he must be tenting his boxers. Even though you know that by the time you get close, there'll be a wet spot in the fabric.

"You don't even have to beg for it anymore," you tease, even though you're too breathless for it to really land, "you know I'll let you do this again and again, even if I'm supposed to be doing something else." You're a sucker for him, and he knows it. Biting your lower lip, you use the hand in his curls to tug him closer. He's just like putty in your hands. "Maybe you like to beg a little, huh? Is that right?"

You decide to take his answering moan as a yes. Mike looks up at you with heavy hazel eyes— pleading, again— wanting to tell you what he wants, but he also doesn't want to stray from his task at hand. Sometimes you wonder what you did to earn this. It's practically worship, at this point. You make a hasty mental note to repay him later, but it's hard to concentrate when he's putting all of his effort into pushing you towards your orgasm. You can feel your muscles tensing, the heat in your abdomen building—

He's gradually focusing more and more of his attention on your clit now. But he's still dragging his tongue through your cunt, tasting you, collecting what's accumulating there. You jolt when his nose bumps against your sensitive nub, providing much-needed friction in the absence of his tongue. Although you definitely aren't the first person that he's done this to, you know for a fact that you're the person he's done this the most to. How do you know? He's told you himself.

Cuntdrunk is a good word to describe him. If he could, he'd live between your thighs forever.

You choke on a whimper. Mike takes in that sound— greedily, needily, he needs more. Scrambling to get a grip on one of your knees, he squeezes it once, pulling it closer to his head. And you understand the signal immediately. You close your thighs around his head, essentially trapping him where he is. Forcing him deeper. His brow furrows, nose pressed against your clit. The first time he wanted you to do this, you were afraid that he'd suffocate; that you'd hurt him. But by now, you're well aware that it won't happen, as long as you're careful not to push him down too much.

He really likes being pushed like this, though. It empties his head, he says. Yours is pretty empty at the moment, too. You're blissfully absent, hardly tethered to Earth. You only really register the feeling of his hair tickling your thighs and shins, from where you've got them positioned— the pillow underneath your hips— his tongue. The pace he's keeping now is almost feverish—

— minutes pass, and you're so, so, close. You can feel it, toes curling when he sucks on your clit again. You can't bite back the sounds that you're making anymore, your mouth falling open as your breathing grows more uneven the closer you get. Your thighs tighten an increment, your heart pumping furiously. The sensations are nearly overwhelming, but you can do little except take what he's giving you. "Just like that— mmhn — keep going, that's perfect—"

You're teetering on the edge for a split second, but what finally pushes you over is another glance downward. Mike is— to put it simply — ruined.

His hair's all messy from when you'd been tugging at it earlier, his cheeks a brilliant red. Almost the entire lower half of his face proudly displays the confirmation of what he's been doing this entire time. If his eyes weren't shut, you know they would be hazy, glazed-over— you haven't even touched him yet, disregarding a few kisses— and he's already fucked-out. All because of you.

"Mike!" You squirm, eyes squeezing shut, "Mike, I'm—"

He groans into your pussy when you cum, eagerly licking up all the remnants of your orgasm. The coil unwinds in waves, which crash through your lower body.

He works at you until the abrupt heat in your gut fades away, replaced by a relaxed warmth, and you start shuddering with oversensitivity.

You could let him continue— he'd keep going for as long as he possibly could. He'd make you cum as many times as humanly possible if you let him. However, you release his head from between your thighs instead, letting your legs slip down to lay on his shoulders. As soon as he's free, he starts taking deep lungfuls of air, catching his breath. Just like you. Which is sort of ironic, since he was the one doing all the work.

He rests his cheek on your inner thigh, leaving a wet smear there. You can't really bring yourself to care, though.

Mike looks at you, still bleary-eyed.

" 'S good?" He asks, hoarsely.

You know you're not done with him yet.

"Yeah." Fondly, you smile down at him. He easily returns it. When you scooch back to sit up against the headboard, he instinctively shuffles forward to fill the newly created space. Your eyes flick downward when he goes to sit up, too, finally exposing his lap—

"Uh." Mike clears his throat.

"Could you … " He trails off, but you doubt it's entirely because of embarrassment.

"I was already planning on it," you reply lightly, already going to place one hand on the back of his neck to tug him closer. He goes, and positions himself so he's hovering over you; spreading his knees just so, he's still looking at you reverently.

"That's good," he breathes.

"You want me to suck you off or something?" The suggestion is extremely casual, like always. But his breath still audibly hitches, and he swallows.

"... You want me to blow in five seconds?"

Snorting, you thumb over his cheek. He leans into your touch, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "I'm serious," he insists, voice low. "It'd be really terrible. You don't want that, right?"

"I don't know." You shrug as best you can. "It's kind of hot, knowing that you got that worked up from just eating me out."

He contemplates this for a second.

"Fair enough."

But then, he drops his tone and murmurs, "I still don't want it to end that quickly."

"You don't?"

"I don't."

You let out a long, dramatic sigh, and pretend to ignore the snicker it elicits from him.

"But I was looking forward to returning the favor."

It's Mike's turn to shrug. "Plenty of other opportunities for that later, y'know."

Admitting defeat is the worst thing ever.

"I guess you're right," you concede. "Fine."

"I guess I'm— " he starts to mimic under his breath, but the rest of his words are expelled in a single whoosh when you squeeze him through his boxers. "— fuck."

A crease forms between his eyebrows again as you continue to feel him out. You were right. Near where his tip was resting, you can feel a small, slightly damp spot. It's enough to make you throb, once— no matter how many times this happens, you'll never get used to this. Your patience is quickly failing, like his.

"You were saying?" You ask innocently, while hooking your fingers in his waistband.

Mike quickly shifts from his previous snark, right back to need.

"I was— I was saying—" His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, "— how much I need you to touch me right now. " The last part of his sentence is barely a whisper. "Please."

And there it is, you want to quip, but you think you've done enough for now. His boxers come off easily, and you unceremoniously wrap your hand around his cock. That's enough to make him shudder, a small noise escaping his parted lips. There's no need for build-up anymore, so you just start pumping him. He quakes, and then leans in, nudging your nose with his. Wordlessly asking permission.

You can still taste a little of yourself on his tongue when you kiss him, leisurely. You drink in what was previously muffled by your cunt. He twitches in your palm, lips pliant and tender against yours, but still a discernible force. A comfortable presence, sharing the same breaths as you. He kisses you again and again until he has to draw back for air.

Mike breathes your name, high-pitched and trembling, as warmth shoots into your hand a few minutes later.

"That's it," you murmur, coaxing the rest of it out of him, "that's it. There you go."

You both just lay there for a couple of long moments. It feels like raw electricity wherever your bare skin is touching his. It's like a current, of sorts. He's still shaking, faintly, either from the exertion or the fact that he's most likely still a little oxygen-deprived. It's probably a nice mix of both. But when that subsides, you both reluctantly roll off the bed, clumsily plodding to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

The tile is cool underneath your bare feet. He stands nice and still as you clean your dried cum off his face. You stay nice and still while he cleans you up, too.

When you're throwing the used towel in the laundry bin, he speaks up. Now that the residual heat has faded, you can feel goosebumps starting to prickle across your skin.

"I love you," he says.

You are both naked, a little damp, and standing in the bathroom.

But somehow, it all fits together. It makes sense.

You turn to face him.

You wrap your arms around his neck, and his hands automatically land on your hips. Mike watches you, obvious worry glimmering in his eyes. He's unsure if that was the right thing to say.

Then:

"I love you," you conclude.

The tension all but melts from his shoulders.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut

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neckromantics · 6 months

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The closer you get to Astarion, the more mischievous the two of you become.

I'm talking gossip. Grade A shit talking with your bf when someone you don't like is just out of earshot. Sometimes, when they're still in earshot if the two of you hate the person enough.

Him, nearly knocking heads with you in his rush to make a sly comment about a particularly atrocious pair of shoes that an enemy is wearing. You doing your best not to burst out laughing and failing miserably bc he's right (obviously), and now that's all you can look at while the big-bad is making their big-bad speech. He's gotten so good at talking to you out of the side of his mouth, it's honestly impressive.

You, side-eyeing him to make sure he also heard that one dumb thing someone said, and sure enough he's meeting your gaze a millisecond later. The two of you perfected the art of having the most judgy conversations with your eyes only. He slow blinks whenever he's particularly unimpressed. You make your eye twitch to ask "can we just kill this guy, already?" The eye rolls from the two of you alone cause 2d8 psychic damage at this point.

You're just always making eachother laugh tbh.

You pretend to fall asleep on Astarion's shoulder and snore whenever someone's going on and on about something neither of you care about, and he has to turn fully away from you to keep a straight face. Sometimes when he's REALLY annoyed, he'll slowly pull out a dagger and feign stabbing at someone when they're turned away- and you can't even pretend to be disapproving bc you're about to piss your pants.

One of your favorite things the two of you do is play fight.

The first time it happened, it started out as a genuine disagreement. You said something stupid- or maybe he said something stupid, neither of you can remember- but whatever it was became a serious back and forth that could have ended in tears if one of you hadn't stopped and realized how utterly stupid the two of you sounded.

All it took was one look into eachother's eyes- the absolute worst one-liner you could conjure from the back of your brain and all was forgiven. The argument soon devolved into a quip-off so intense that the rest of camp couldn't even tell you weren't actually angry anymore.

You've done it for fun a couple times, now. Usually, it's bc you're in the mood to annoy the rest of your companions after they've given you a rough day.

Astarion initiates it this time- bc he wants to be a nuisance to poor Gale, who's just trying to read his book by the warmth of the campfire. Though luckily for him, it's such a ridiculous display that it doesn't last long.

You're seething. Boots slapping hard in the mud as you storm across camp to get Astarion by the shoulders- your hold delicate despite the venom in your tone. It looks like you're shaking him a little, but you aren't. The vampire is just vibrating from having to reign in his laughter.

You look ridiculous.

"Oh, yeah? Why don't you say that into my fucking mouth, then?"

Gale looks up from his book in confusion, only to see an equally not angry Astarion fist his hands into the fabric of your cloak and yank you closer.

"Maybe I will." He growls, or maybe laughs? Gale doesn't know at this point. He's too busy shutting his book, and walking briskly to his tent- far, far away from the giggly make-out session you're about to have in Astarion's tent.

#idk man its 4am #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tav #bg3 headcanons #gale of waterdeep

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trensu · 9 months

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Steve had always wanted to be a skilled fighter. The schools that churned out the best fighters all happened to be schools for holy warriors. It was possible that Steve maybe sort of lied a little (with the help of his friends Robin and Dustin) to get into this school by claiming he was full to the brim of religious fervor but hadn’t decided who to pledge his sword to yet. It shouldn’t have worked, if he were honest with himself, but by some stroke of luck it did, and he finished his training as one of the top combatants.

The issue now was that he had to pick a god whose crest to carry. There were all sorts of gods. Gods of water, gods of air, gods of agriculture, war gods, cat gods, plant gods...the list was endless. And while Steve was one of the best fighters around, he was most definitely not one of the best researchers. Thankfully Dustin and Robin were very clever and knew where to find details about the many gods in existence.

“So what kind of god do you want to follow? Maybe we can start there,” Robin asked.

“Uh…a good one?”

“You’re no help at all, you know that?” Dustin grumbled.

They suggested a local god known as Carver who stood for righteousness, but Steve turned that down. It didn't feel like a good fit. They suggested a love god by the name of Chrissy, who valued love of all kinds, romantic, platonic, familial...Steve had been tempted, very tempted, because Steve had always carried an excess of love in his heart. Robin had vetoed that one stating that Steve was already too reckless with his love and she wouldn't stand by and watch him break his own heart over and over again.

Dustin suggested a god of knowledge, Clarke, who blessed and guided those with curiosity, imagination, and a knack for invention. Steve shot that one down immediately. He was never one to be overly imaginative or curious; he preferred to deal with concrete things. Out of their quickly dwindling list, Robin reluctantly suggested Hargrove, a war god favored by a nearby kingdom, but if Carver was ill-fitting, then Hargrove was outright repellent to Steve.

"C'mon, Steve, you gotta pick someone!" Dustin huffed in frustration.

Robin thunked her head against the table in the library where they were looking up deities. She was obviously at her wit's end too. Steve, however, just dug his heels in with a particularly stubborn scowl.

"I can't just pick anyone!" Steve said. "If I'm going to pledge my sword to someone, it has to be someone...someone good. Someone that, I don't know, someone I can believe in, even when--no especially when things go wrong. That’s the whole point!"

"Yeah, I get that," Robin sighed, a mix of fond and annoyed, "but this is the eighth book we've gone through and the only one left here is called the King of Darkness which is hardly going to--huh."

Robin paused mid-rant to look at the page more closely. Steve and Dustin both huddled around her to peek into the book as well. Dustin also made a sound of curiosity.

"That's weird," Dustin said.

"Right?" Robin asked enthusiastically.

"What? What's weird?" Steve didn't get what caught their attention.

"This god only has a couple of sentences," Dustin explained, "And they don't really make sense. Something about dark creatures and the undeserving? The grammar and structure is all weird though."

"It looks like a half-assed translation," Robin added with a nod. "We should find the original text."

"Yeah! And if we can make a better translation, we could get it added to the next edition and they'd have to put our names on the book," Dustin said excitedly. Robin's eyes lit up at the thought and they both rushed off to the stacks to track down any original sources.

"Guys! Guys, what about my..."

The librarian hushed Steve, irritated. Steve groaned in defeat.

"...godly choices. Yeah, fine," Steve slumped back on his seat. "I need to find non-nerd friends."

Two days later, Robin and Dustin finished translating a slim, dusty book. They were nearly vibrating in their seats as Steve reviewed their notes on what they found. Dustin gripped his arm and gave him a shake.

"So? What do you think?" he asked excitedly.

Robin slung her arm across Steve's shoulders. With more tenderness than Steve expected, she said, "I know it doesn't seem like it, he doesn't really fit with your whole style, but it could work."

"Yeah," Steve said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, this feels right."

It took longer than Steve would've liked, but eventually he managed to track down a small, crumbling shrine. It was an alcove carved near the entrance--no more than a crack in the stone really--of a cave at the edge of a lush forest. He almost missed it, it was so drowned in overgrown crawling vines and weeds. It bore a modest statue, no bigger than Steve, standing atop an equally modest plinth. There was a spot that obviously held a plaque once, but it must’ve been dug out by thieves at some point.

The sight of it made something in Steve's chest twinge; a strange pang of melancholy at seeing a god so forgotten and abandoned. It surprised him as he had never been particularly religious, but there was just something about this one that drew him in.

It was the middle of the day, so Steve quickly made camp and took advantage of the light to begin clearing the shrine. He started where the plaque had been, scrubbing off the dirt and moss that had filled the indentation. He knew a good smith; he could commission a new plaque to be made. After that, he weeded the immediate area around the plinth where worshipers would typically lay their offerings and pray.

By the time he finished that, it was late afternoon and he decided that was good enough for today. He had to eat and get a few hours of sleep so he could be alert once night fell. When he curled up on his bedroll, he couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. He was going to offer himself to his god tonight, and with any luck, his god would accept him.

He woke to a multitude of high pitched squeaks and the sound of many, many flapping wings. The sun had just fully set, and the stars that could be seen through the canopy burned brightly. Steve took his time to fasten on his armor and scabbard properly, and fixed his hair so not a strand was out of place. He took a few deep breaths to calm an unexpected bout of nerves before going to the shrine and kneeling.

His god had no official prayers. Or rather, the prayers for his god were forgotten. Robin and Dustin did their best to find anything prayer-like but it had been in vain. They suspected that most of the god's holy items and lore were purposely lost. Lacking that, Steve decided it was best that he introduce himself.

"Um, hi," he started and immediately winced. "Sorry. I'm not used to...this. I couldn't find any of your…holy words? Prayers? The right ways to speak to you, I guess.

"I'm Steve. Steve Harrington. I'm a fighter. I finished my training a few weeks back. I was the top of my cohort when it came to combat. I'm good with my sword and I know how to take a hit. I can turn just about anything into a weapon if it's needed."

Here Steve paused for a moment, straining to hear but there was nothing other than the typical sounds of a night out in the woods. Steve took a breath and plowed forward.

"I want to be more than a fighter, though. I don't want to just wave a sword around for nothing. I want it to...to matter. So I spent a lot of time trying to decide who to wield my sword for. It took me a while, but I found you. I want to be your shield and sword, if you'll have me."

Steve stopped again to listen. Nothing. Robin warned him this might happen. Gods didn't always accept warriors who offered themselves to them, and forgotten gods weren't always reachable. It was fine, though; he’d try again tomorrow night. Steve turned in just before dawn, eager for night again.

Steve worked on clearing the vines tangled around the statue's legs and feet. He yanked out the thick, scraggly vines, and carefully picked apart the prickling thorny ones. There was a particular gnarl of vines that didn't seem like they had a stranglehold on his god's statue. They were healthy and strong, and the way they curled and grew looked more like a caress than an invasion. He decided to leave those on, though he gently rearranged them while removing the more invasive vines so they looked more decorative.

When night arrived with the sound of squeaks and wings, Steve went to kneel at the shrine. He introduced himself again, gave the same spiel as the night before. Still he heard nothing. He scratched the back of his neck in mild insecurity.

“I guess I should tell you I didn’t find you on my own. My friends Robin and Dustin helped me. They’re way smarter than me, you know? Total nerds. I can swing a sword like nothing, but books and research? Yeah, that never works out for me, so they helped me look up all sorts of gods.

“There’s a lot of them. Way more than I thought. Dustin and Robin both recommended me ones or vetoed others. They were getting frustrated with me because I kept rejecting the ones they gave me.

“Then Robin found you. Kind of by accident, to be honest. But she did her research thing and I knew that I wanted to carry your symbol. It took me forever to find this shrine. Robin said this was probably the only shrine you had left, so I had to find it.

“Dustin kept saying it was on the other side of the forest, but obviously he was wrong. Not that he’ll ever admit it, the little shit, but whatever. I’m sorry your shrine was abandoned like this, but I promise I’ll fix it up. I’m good with my hands, I can do it.”

There was no response to his admittedly disorganized ramble. It was fine, he told himself. He needed to be patient. He’d come back the next night.

–

Around the statue’s waist there was another tangled mess of vines, except these vines had died and rotted to dark sludge. There was fungus growing on it, and it reeked. It was gross. Steve scrubbed at it for hours because the rot had stained the stone. He was able to get rid of the rot and most of the stains before going to catch a few hours of sleep in the afternoon.

Night fell and Steve was kneeling for the third time. He repeated most of what he said the previous two nights. There was still no response. He thought maybe he was pushing too hard. He’d never been the super talkative type anyway. He could share the quiet night with his god, if that was what his god wanted.

A few hours passed when he was startled out of his near meditative state by the sound of snapping twigs. He leapt to his feet, hand on his scabbard. Someone–a man by the look of it–stumbled out of the woods. He was pale and dark haired, dressed in ragged clothes that were probably awful even when they were new. He looked like a vagabond.

Steve stepped in front of the shrine, protectively. The stranger grinned at him and Steve could already tell he was not going to enjoy the conversation that was about to happen.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” Steve asked firmly, cutting the man off before he could speak. The smile only grew wider.

“I could ask you the same thing, sir,” the man said, adopting the annoyed huff of a wealthy lord. Steve scowled.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second!”

“You didn’t ask me anything,” Steve responded, somewhat smug. The man paused and then snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Steve repeated shortly. The teasing grin was back, and Steve felt his scowl deepen.

“Nothing and no one, m’lord,” the man bows mockingly.

“I’m not a lord.”

“Huh. Could’ve fooled me. You’re certainly as demanding as any lord I’ve ever met.”

“Oh fuck you,” Steve snapped. “I’m a holy warrior.”

The man laughed at him outright.

“Well that doesn’t sound very holy warrior-ish. Are your type allowed to swear?”

Steve grinded his teeth and decided it was not worth it to continue this conversation for much longer.

“Look, if you’re here to steal, I’ve got nothing on me.”

“That’s exactly what someone with something to steal would say.”

“Well, I don’t! I’m on a pilgrimage and I don’t want to spill blood on holy ground. So.” Steve wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. “Leave. Please.”

“Holy ground? Here?” the man barks out a laugh. “Don’t you know what this place is?”

“Yes,” Steve says shortly, placing himself more firmly between the shrine and the man. “Please leave. There shouldn’t be violence done here.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that. This place used to belong to the King of Darkness. It’s said he was so evil that nothing grew here until he was run out and defeated by the god of righteousness. You know the one. Really plays up the holier than thou thing by making his hair all gold and glowy? Gotta say, you could give him a run for his money though.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No really! Your hair is great. Way better than Carver, even with the glowy thing.”

“Not that!” Steve said in frustration. This guy really liked the sound of his own voice and Steve was starting to get a headache. It was near dawn and all he wanted was to spend the last hour or so in the quiet night with his god.

“So you agree your hair is better than a god’s?” The man tsks at him. “That’s pretty blasphemous. Are you sure you’re a holy warrior?”

“No! I mean, yes. Wait,” Steve growls at his own bumbling. “No, I’m not better than any god. But I am a holy warrior. Kind of.”

“Kind of.”

“Look, I’m working on it so I need you to leave. You’ve insulted him enough already.”

“Your god is the King of Dark–”

“Call him that again, and I will draw my sword,” Steve said, voice steely. “He’s the Lord of Night, and I won’t let you insult him at his own shrine.”

The man goes quiet for the first time since he showed up. He looked almost surprised, his mocking grin gone. His eyes flicked over to the dilapidated statue and then back at Steve.

“Lord of Night doesn’t sound much different than what I called him,” the man said lightly.

“Well, it is,” Steve told him. “Now, will you please leave?”

The man stared at him for a moment before shrugging. “Yeah, alright.” And then he left as suddenly as he had arrived.

The tension that had built up in Steve’s shoulders drained away. He went back to kneel in front of the shrine again when he noticed the barest hint of sunrise on the horizon. He cursed under his breath then was hit with a wave of embarrassment at cursing in front of the shrine and the whole situation that had transpired.

“I’m sorry about that,” Steve said, abashed. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

–

It happened again.

now with an additional snippet here and here

ps: i do not do those reader tag list things. if you'd like to keep up with my stuff, follow my writing tag: trensu tells stories

#trensu tells stories #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #eddie munson #i don't even know what to call this #it's an idea i'm playing with but i don't know how well it works #if you're curious about the setting so am i!#if you figure it out do me a favor and tell me what it is #i have more written but it's not done #i'm hoping to post it as a oneshot on ao3 when i finish it #IF i finish it #we'll see i guess #ETA #came up with a title/tag for this #stasis in darkness

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carolmunson · 7 months

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the cars that go boom | (daddydom!sadist!eddie)

this fic isn't related to the title song reference at all, it's just stuck in my head. needed to get this out of my drafts so here's some ddlg themed sadist eddie that's been sitting in my draft folder for fucking ever and i'm sick of looking at it. tw: 18+ mdni ddlg dynamics, daddy kink, eddie being all over a cocky shit bag hottie who likes control but it's consensual, use of a vibrating toy. lots of allusions to other sex.

You watch him get out of the bathroom after his shower, tattoos stretched taught over softly cut muscles. You almost drool. He tried something new with you this week, an orgasm ban -- nearly a sex ban -- in fact, he didn't even want you to see his dick. And much like he always does when he finds a new way to torture you; he was feeling really pleased with himself about it.

'That's more than you deserve,' he hissed at you Monday night while you knelt obediently between his legs. He pet your hair while you watched TV and he jerked himself off, you were not allowed to turn around until he was finished. You pouted all night, and when it happened the next day you started pouting all week. But, the week was over, which meant your punishment was done. You'd spent all day getting ready, a long shower, smooth skin, body butter, his favorite perfume, everything you could do to feel perfect for him. You cleaned the trailer and made dinner, you kissed him when he got in the door to which he blushed and smiled.

'Hi beautiful,' he greeted you so gently, 'I missed you today.'

You watch him dress now, hair dripping while he tugs on a pair of grey sweatpants and a ratty cut off Iron Maiden t-shirt. You sulk a little. Those aren't normally the clothes he'd put on if he wanted to take you to bed, but you don't say anything just yet.

He goes to the kitchen table with a composition notebook and a collection of pens and markers, opening the beat up pages to what you can only assume is a new campaign, a new drawing of a map. You walk over while he mulls over it, adding new territory, scribbling in new lore. You let your hands slide over his shoulders.

"Hi baby," you say sweetly.

"Hi," he responds, focused on his notebook. Your hands slide forward, onto his chest, your face leaning down to his, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Whatcha doing?" you ask innocently.

"Workin' on a campaign," he responds, "We're gonna meet up on Wednesday night so I want it to be semi together."

"Okay," you nod, you run your fingers gently over his scalp, giving him a soft scratch. He keens into the touch, shoulders relaxing while he rolls his head back. You press your luck, letting your fingertip trace over the curve of his ear.

"Hey," he warns softly, "I'm tryin' to focus, sweetheart."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you apologize, but he can't see your grin. Your fingers continue to wander, giving him a sweet shoulder massage while he reads over his story. A quiet 'thank you honey', falls from his full lips while you work out the knots. You press your luck again, trailing your finger down the line of his neck that's the most sensitive to your tongue and touch. Eddie's shoulders tense and he sits up straight, turning to you with a sour pull at his full lips.

"Do you need something?" he asks pointedly. You feel heat rush to your cheeks, "Do you need some attention?"

You nod and he grins, pulling the other kitchen chair over, "Come sit next to me then, you can help."

You roll your eyes and sit down next to him, he bites his tongue at the offense, happy to get to spend some time with you like this. He gives you a chaste kiss on your cheek while you watch him work.

You barely 'help', just sitting there while he crosses things out and re-writes them. While he flips back ten pages and then forward twenty, grabbing a red pencil and putting it down for a blue pencil then picking the red back up and so on. You get restless watching him work, so you get up and grab each of you a beer. Another sugar sweet, 'thaaank you baby,' pours from him, this time deep and focused, dark and syrupy. Molasses tongue. It goes right to your thighs.

You press your luck a third time, scooting close to him, letting your hand smooth over his covered thigh and further up, skimming over his cock that was perfectly outlined in his sweats. He let's out a frustrated sigh when he takes your hand away from his crotch, gently putting it on your lap when he looks at you sternly.

"Daddy's busy, baby," his eyes look down at you, his dominance brewing under angry brows, "Why don't you go play by yourself in another room, hm?"

He turns his attention back to the campaign notebook, while you throb from being scolded. The humilation pools through you when he chastises you, eyes lingering on you while you continue to sit there. After a beat, you get up to walk to the bedroom hearing his voice as you do.

"Good girl," he teases, "Are you being a good listener?"

You look back and see his grin while he leans back in the kitchen chair, crossing his arms. His legs are spread wide under the table, cool authority flowing off of him.

"Are you?" he asks again, a smirk cracking his face as if to ask, 'Does this embarrass you?' It does, it's humiliating.

"I'm a very good listener," you respond quietly, heart dropping in your chest.

His brows raise, waiting for you to add more to the sentence. You let out an aggravated huff through your nose, crossing your arms.

"I'm a very good listener, daddy," you repeat.

"There we go," he smiles cruelly, "Go have fun, sweetheart."

'Have fun? HAVE FUN?' you think to yourself while you go to the bedroom and shut the door with a firm click, 'Fine! I'll have fun without you then! See if I care!' It's not fair that you've been quite literally begging to be fucked for seven straight days, but to go straight into teasing you like this? The type of dominance that makes you feel the most -- god -- embarrassed? Degraded? You'd rather gag on fingers and have him wipe your spit on your face. You'd rather him make you lick someone's cum out of his ass, literally anything but this.

With a huff you open Eddie's top dresser drawer and grab the Hitatchi he bought you as an anniversary gift last year. Hastily, you plug it in behind the bedside table before climbing on to bed, shimmying your jeans off and tossing them to the floor.

Your legs spread, bent at the knees, turning the toy on low and slowly lowering it onto your covered core. The hum is quiet, barely a tremble in the head of the wand when it meets the lacy fabric of your panties. A soft gasp escapes you at the feeling, it had felt like years since you'd been touched there. You move the toy up and down slowly, teasing yourself, little puffs of breath escaping you as you do.

With a click, the buzz intensifies, sliding the head upward to settle softly on your clothed clit. You whimper while your hips start to move slowly against the vibrations, the whirr of the toy filling your ears while your eyes shut. You keep yourself like this for a little, enjoying the slow sensation, the mild tease. You feel it start, like the hook looping into the first car of a roller coaster train, the first tug when the attendant hits 'go'.

“Huh!” you gasp out breathy while your hips twitch. Your lower lips start to swell against the gusset of your bottoms, slick building between them. A slow start. You savor it, a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Look so pretty like that, baby,” you hear his voice and gasp, tossing the toy next to you and snapping your legs shut. He smirks, a devilish chuckle bubbles from his chest, “Oh no, don’t let me interrupt. I said you could go play by yourself, and look at you…”

His voice raises in a lilt, while he sits on the bed. He passes you the wand and smiles, “You’re being such a good girl for me.”

“Go on,” he says with a nod, “Show daddy how you were playing.” You lean back on the pillows, opening up your legs again slowly. He glances between them, eyes flitting down to your mound briefly before meeting your eyes again, he subconciously licks his lips. You keep your legs up and bent up against your chest so he has a view, puffing out a soft sigh when you click the toy on again. He looks at you with a hazy gleam in his brown eyes, nodding slowly at you to remind you of his permission. You run it up your thigh before settling it back down on the center of your slit, letting the vibrations pulse over your entire core. "Hm," you hum out softly as your brows pinch together in a tilt. "Aw, yeah?" he coos out, "Does that feel good?"

"Mhm," you whine, lower lip tucked tight between your teeth. Yuo swallow when he reaches his hand out, smoothing over the soft plushness of your inner thigh. He squeezes, grinning when you let out a soft grunt with a twitch of your hips.

"You've been so patient this week," he purrs, "Such a good girl. Isn't that right?"

You nod hurriedly, watching his hand slide up your thigh, his index finger tracing up the hem of your underwear. It's a smooth hand off, watching his rings gleam in the bedside lamp when it wraps around the handle, both of your hands falling flat by your head. Your palms face the ceiling, matching your eyes when he turns up the vibrations. "Isn't that right, baby doll?" he asks, adding a gentle pressure up against you. Your pussy strains against the fabric the more excited you get, back already in a soft arch while you push into the mattress. "Y-yes, sir," you manage to mutter out. "No, no, that's not who I am tonight," he admonishes, still in a soft and steady voice, almost sweet -- like you don't understand anything. He takes the toy away; making you whimper, leaning up on your elbows behind you.

"You know how to address me," he says, a serpentine confidence flashing in his face, "You're a big girl, aren't you? Or do I have to teach you?"

You let out a shrill groan, head leaning back on it's hinge while your legs kick out in frustration in front of you.

"Hmm, of course," he says, getting up off the bed to pull off his shirt and slide off his sweats. His boxer briefs hug him in tight but it's there and it's missed you more than you've missed it this week, "You act like this and you don't think I should treat you like a little girl?"

You look up at him, bitten lower lip jutting out with a sheen of spit.

"So pouty, too," he coos, crawling onto the mattress between your parted thighs. He sits up on his knees, tall over your frame splayed out on the bed. He lifts one of your legs, pressing it flush against his chest so your foot rests by his ear.

"M'not pouty," you say back while his other hand reaches over your cheek with a light back before splaying over your jaw. His thumb brushes your lower lip before pressing on the dip at the center.

"Open," he instructs, you don't even think to stop yourself. You suck his thumb slow, letting your tongue lave over the length all the while. Spit fills your mouth, wet and eager, already inching at the corners of your mouth. You might as well drool. "Very good," he purrs again from the back of his throat, "Someone learned her lesson this week."

You nod, taking his wrist to steady his hand while you take more initiative with his thumb, implying what you really want.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," he says lowly, taking his thumb from your mouth. He wipes the spit on your cheek before reaching back over to the wand, keeping your legs spread and holding thight to your thigh against his front.

Your hips shimmy when he holds the toy back in place, thumb running over the power button but not pressing down.

"Hey," he says, commanding, "Look up at me."

Your gaze snaps to his in unadulterated obedience, his distaste for even having to ask evident on his face, "You know better."

"I know better," you nod while you say it, confirming his words. "You do not ever stop looking at me," he glowers down.

"I don't ever stop looking at you," you repeat back, needy for whatever he has for you next. Your hips shimmy again, you try to stifle the whine in your throat but it comes out just the same; desperate and childish. "Oh, baby, do you need help asking for what you want?" his voice lilts, "Does daddy have to guess?" "Turn it on, please," you whisper. "Please what, princess?" he asks, voice mocking with a knowing stare, leaning down so your knee hooks over his shoulder. His chest hovers at an angle over you, chain and guitar pick dangling over your lips. "Please what?" he asks again. "Please daddy," you whine, "Please turn the toy on." "Look at those manners," he grins wickedly, "My sweet girl."

He turns it on, speed setting high with the flick of his finger. It rumbles loud, thighs already twitching while runs it back and forth over your sensitive clit. "Fuck," you gasp out, eyes rolling, "Oh my god, right there." "That's not a very nice word, sweetheart," he chastises, "What do you say?"

"S-sorr-Oh! Oh my god! Oh! -- Sorry, d--shitshitshitshit-- sorrysorrysorrysorry," you nearly cry when the cord in your belly snaps, gushing into the fabric against your core. He greedily keeps your thighs apart, watching while you come undone under him. You gulp when he doesn't take the toy away, your sensitive nerves screaming at the buzz of the vibrator. Your hips writhe and jump, trying to pull away from it all the while he's shaking his head no.

"Gotta hear that apology, princess," he murmurs, "Say sorry."

"Sorry daddy, I'm sorry," you babble out, "M'sorry I'll be so good, I'll be good." He let's out a satisfied hum, clicking the wand off and placing it gingerly on the bedside table. His hand lingers for a moment to make sure it doesn't roll off and then finds it's footing back on the mattress.

"You'll be so good?"

"So good," you nod when he settles back between your thighs. He crawls forward like a cat, pressing his hips slowly up against yours. You sigh needily when you feel the drag of his erection against you, whimpering when you see it affect him the same way. "Shit, baby," he smirks, trying not to break character while he grinds against you a second time, "Fuck." "That's not a very nice word," you tease back, looking up at him through heavy lids. "Well I'm not a very nice guy, am I?" he muses, leaning in to kiss you deeply before one hand reaches down to tug at your panties. You giggle, a sound that sends him reeling when he's in this kind of mood. "You're very nice," you whisper against his lips. "Hmm, yeah?" he growls, noses brushing while he lingers above you. He offers another roll of his hips right before he gets to work on pulling your panties down slipping them off of each ankle with ease. Undressed completely below him, he admires you. He hadn't seen you like this all week, finally getting what you've been waiting for. So patient, so willing. He runs his hands from shoulders to hips, greedy fingers digging into you rough and tumble, grabbing and kneading with disregard to comfort. "Daddy," you start, getting his attention in a voice that makes him ready to serve accordingly, "Fuck me."

A smirk splits his face, it's cute when you ask so brazenly when you're busy looking at him with those sad puppy eyes. "Please, fuck me," you reiterate while he readies himself, boxer briefs peeling off to leave him bare. Your soft gasp at the release of his cock is more of an ego trip than he expected to have, never realizing how much you truly need him like this. How you can really only get off to him, how you've submitted in every way you could. "Daddy's gonna fuck you, sweetheart," he says steadily, climbing back ontop of you, pressing your thighs to your chest, "God, m'gonna fuck you real good."

He leans in for another hungry kiss, ownership laced in his lips. When he breaks away you catch his chin in your hand, an action that makes him bristle, jaw clenching at your attempt at control.

"Fuck me like I've been bad," you request in a timbre so low he nearly melts at the sound, "Fuck me how you fuck bad girls."

He's never flipped you over so fast in your life.

#eddie munson smut #dom!eddie munson #daddydom!eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader

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moncherellie · 6 months

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☁︎ ⋆abby anderson + vocality⋆☁︎

a/n: drabble of two gfs obsessed with tongue fucking each other... need! n not proofread girl im tired and thats work. let me be grammatically incorrect and horny

if i'm being honest, i don't think abby is a very big moaner

if you're eating her out, i think she'd be holding your head in place. she'd watch as your eyes roll back and you thrust your tongue in and out, feeling every ounce of pleasure as she rides your face and seeks her own release. she pants like a dog and grips your hair tighter in her right hand, all but shoving your face into her pussy.

her breathing is shallow but heaving- deep- rumbling and reverberating through the room. every so often, when you suck on her clit just right, she'll buck her hips up into you and stutter out a "fuck." there's no high energy, just the purest expression of intimacy. she doesn't feel the need to perform for you, no guilt for not having pornstar moans. this is abby at her most vulnerable, and you would do anything to have her cum on your tongue once more. the way her eyebrows furrow and her lip curls when she finishes is mesmerizing.

she shakes as you fuck her through it and you grin, knowing that she's enjoying it the most when she's completely silent. her throat is shot, so when she lets out a "holy shit, babe," with that cute grin, she's got a slight vocal fry.

actually? i take it back

abby would moan. but only when she goes down on you. just seeing you writhe and try to pull away because you're going to cum too early is the most fucking erotic thing to her. she grins and moans into your pussy, and you can feel the vibrations as she moves her head up and down to devour you. to me? she chuckles n laughs at you (lovingly) while she's down there, endlessly entertained by your reactions.

she reaches up to tweak your nipples, wanting to get her hands on as much of your body as she can. her big hands roam from your thighs, rubbing up and down, then trail to your chest, and your waist, using your natural curves as handles to pull you down by.

abby can't stop herself from making noise as she listens to the wetness and squelching when her tongue flicks your clit, fingers pumping in and out at a nearly impossible pace. something about knowing she's the one making you react the way you are makes her clit throb painfully. she's the kind of girl to squeeze her legs together and grind into the mattress because she finds you that appealing. get her a pillow to hump while she eats you out. call that enrichment.

so yeah. abby anderson is a PANTER when receiving and a MOANER when giving. no criticism being taken actually, inbox is closed. (kidding :3 talk 2 me)

#is this inspired by me + wanting representation for the non moaners?... yeah.#i be huffin and puffin n shit #call me the big bad wolf the way im blowing shit down (and hairy)#LMAOOO SORRY #really pushing the service top abby propaganda today :DD #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x reader smut #tlou2 x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 6 months

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hysteria

kinktober, day twenty-eight

a/n: look, we already know that I'm a nerd when it comes to medical history, so this really shouldn't come as a surprise. only thing surprising about it is how fucking long it took for me to finally write this kinda fic, damn, because this fantasy is ancient.

summary: “miss, I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

warnings: doctor!aleksander morozova x innocent!reader, smut, dubcon, historical au, medical kink, time accurate sexism, fingering, sex toys (vibrator, fuck machine), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, size kink, squirting, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation

word count: 1607

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

Eyes glued to the clipboard in his hand, doctor Morozova quietly read up from the list of symptoms he had just scribbled down, “…unmarried, insomnia, increased nervousness during social interactions… miss,” he then lifted his obsidian gaze and told you gravely, “I’m afraid to inform you that you have hysteria.”

“I-I do?”

“Yes, I’m terribly sorry,” he laid the papers down on the desk before him, “seems like your womb is not where it’s supposed to be and that can cause all sorts of problems as you can see by your symptoms.”

Fingers weaved so tightly in the fabric in your lap it nearly broke through, ruining your dress, your panic began to bubble out, “what should I do, doctor? Is there a cure?”

“There is,” he nodded, subtly raising a hand up to soothe your nerves, “the way to relieve this disorder is by causing something called a hysterical paroxysm,” he informed, abruptly redirecting his stare down upon the woodgrain of the tabletop, “now, usually, if a woman is married, the husband is to perform the treatment, but since you’re not,” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “I’ll help rid your body of this ailment.”

“Really? Thank you,” you gasped, “what, uh, what does it entail?”

“Oh, it’s simple enough,” he waved a casual hand, “you just rid yourself of your undergarments and lay down on the exam table for me.”

“I-…” you blinked, eyes wide before you swallowed, “…alright…”

Getting up from the chair opposing his desk, you walked around the flimsy partition set up in the corner. Reaching under your dress, you timidly pulled your underwear down your legs, past your stockings and off. Folding the garment in a neat little bundle, you settled it on the small stool that stood back here before stepping back out from behind the cover.

Now settled at the bottom of the exam table on a seat, he gestured for you to get up onto the slab before you apprehensively did so.

“If you would please just put your feet up in these stirrups,” he adjusted the metal legs below you, “then we can get started.”

As you then shifted, settling your feet into place, your skirts tented and began to ride up, a gust of crisp air kissing your exposed centre and causing your cheeks to heat up.

Hearing his chair scoot closer, you then felt his touch softly ghost from your knees all the way up your thighs till his fingers were gently prying your petals apart. After taking a good look, he then briefly retracted his touch, unscrewing a nearby dark glass jar, swiping up some of the glossy contents before grazing through your folds once more, the cool temperature of the lubrication causing you to suck in a sharp breath.

“Sorry, if it’s a bit cold,” he murmured as he continued to smear it in.

Head faintly shaking, “it’s fine,” you tried just to focus on your breathing.

Pushing your dress a bit more out of the way, he told you, “just try and relax for me, it will go by a lot smoother if you relax,” his touch then suddenly changed, “now, tell me,” zeroing in and pressing down on your clit in a way that made the office around you go fuzzy, “how does that feel?”

Blinking down at him, you found that his vision was already firm on you, “I-… I don’t know… how is it supposed to feel?”

“It’s supposed to feel good,” he rubbed a bit harder, “so, does it feel good?”

“I-I guess so,” your vision fluttered back up towards the ceiling, the doctor’s dark eyes being too much to stand, “yeah.”

“Good, good,” his attentive touch then shifted, “now let me just have a feel inside. Deep breath for me,” your lungs expanded at his command, “there you go,” and his long finger pressed inside, gently curving it around against your walls as he examined, “yep, there it is… your womb, it’s in the completely wrong spot,” he swiftly worked another digit in, watching as you stretched around his fingers, “it’s good that you came in now before it got even worse,” pulling back out, he ended the contact with an unnecessary rub against your buzzing clit.

As he then scooted a bulky and mysterious machine over, you asked nervously, “w-what is that?”

“Just a little apparatus that’s gonna help cure you,” he twisted a vaguely phallic shape into place at the end of the device’s long arm. After noticing your startled expression, you felt his warm hand sprawl across your thigh, “don’t worry, love. It’s all gonna be just fine,” lining it up, “just try and lay still,” he turned a switch and the attachment slowly drove into you.

“Oh my god!” your palm slammed down against the exam table.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he caught your eye till your body slowly began to give in, calming under his gaze. Reaching his right hand up, he tickled your puff as the gadget slowly eased in and out of you, “you’re doing great so far, just relax for me,” you saw his free fingers sneak down to enclose around the apparatus’s knob once more, turning the speed further up.

Feeling like you might fall off the table entirely, you panted, “doctor, I think something might be wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, love,” he nearly chuckled, “this is how it’s supposed to feel,” smiling as you let go an uncontainable moan, knees nearly closing as you tumbled over the edge, “there it is, good, good…”

Expecting for the machine to be shut off, the doctor instead pushed your trembling knees aside and conjured a bulky ward-like device that buzzed in his tight grip, the other hand firm on your leg as he pressed the vibrator against your sensitive pearl, “ah! Doctor! What are you-”

“We’re not done yet,” he stated firmly, vision fixated on the mess he was turning you into.

The squelching of your pussy cut through the loud buzzing of the gizmos, “but it’s too much, I can’t-”

“You wanna get better, don’t you?”

Fists tight in your dress, crumbled at your waist, you let out a shaky, “yes.”

“Then quit your whining and let me treat you,” his stare snapped up as he warned you, “if you keep that up then I’ll have no other choice but to restrain you, is that what you want?”

“N-no,” the overwhelming sensation caused you to tremble like a leaf.

“Be a good girl and take it.”

When the second wave hit, it crashed into you so fiercely that you let out a lewd scream.

“There you go, that’s it!” the doctor bellowed as your pussy gushed, crying out around the intense toys, “oh, fuck…” unable to peel his eyes away as he finally turned off the machines, additional juices squirting out as they withdrew.

Limbs twitching, you hazily asked, “was that it? Are we done?”

Palming himself through his pants, his gaze stayed glued to your weeping core, “not quite yet, miss… that release of excess fluids was a very good sign, very good sign indeed, but we’re not quite done… there’s still more that needs to get out in order for your uterus to align itself again,” your eyes then flicked down to his fingers as they worked at the buttons on his slacks, swiftly freeing something much bigger than the apparatus he had just fucked you with.

“Doctor?” your eyes grew as he stepped closer, rubbing his tip against you in a way that made your eyes flutter.

Finally meeting your gaze, he uttered, “please, call me Aleksander,” before thrusting his hips forward, stretching you apart with his cock. Fingers digging into your thighs, he glanced back down and smirked, “I think your womb just needs a little reminder of where its home is,” before he slammed in, all the way, pushing the air out of your lungs as his balls nuzzled against you.

“Ah!”

“Just need to knock at its door a bit to call it home,” the tip of his generous length kissed your cervix with every rough thrust, borderline going too deep as you clambered around him, “that’s it, taking the treatment so well.”

Just as you had thought he had settled on a rhythm, he pulled the rug out from under you by suddenly withdrawing his girth entirely, spreading you apart so that he could watch how he made you gape, only to bury himself completely once again, repeating the cycle over and over, relishing in the way it drove you up the wall.

“Fucking hell… I can feel it, you’re getting close, clamping around me like a desperate little whore,” he groaned, watching as after a few more breath-taking rounds, your pussy began to weep once again, “oh, there it is,” squirting out every time he retraced himself, “atta girl,” the fullness he then granted you only persuaded more to appear.

When you were nothing more than a literal puddle in his grasp, Aleksander truly lost control, pounding into your trembling mess before he made it even more so, stuffing you full of his hot cum.

Low groans still flowed from his lips as he retracted from you for good, the sensation of his seed trickling out of you and onto the exam table nearly going unnoticed from how exhausted the treatment had made you.

“Was that it?” you asked weakly, “am I cured now?”

Tugging himself away as he caught his breath, he answered, “not completely,” glancing back up at you with a glint in his dark eyes, “I think you’re gonna have to come back a few more times …”

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mattyriddlesbitch · 13 days

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FUCKING GOD I NEED MORE MATTHEO RIDDLE AND OVERSTIMULATION 😭😭😭 I'm begging!!

I can just hear Mattheo's voice. "Begging for me again already, angel?"

You Can Take It

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering, cussing, unprotected sex, bondage

18+ Minors DNI!

Ever since he had overstimulated you the first time, he was always looking to see how else he could do it. He loved seeing those pretty tears and ripping orgasm after orgasm from you.

So when he found your secret little wand vibrator, he knew exactly what he was going to do with it.

He had you bound to the bed, hands and legs tied. You couldn’t close your legs even if you wanted to. He was kissing and licking and biting all over you, leaving little marks here and there. You were nearly dripping from how worked up you were.

“You have no patience, darling.” Mattheo said as you kept whining and squirming under him.

“Please, Matty, I need you.” You begged, trying to give him your sweetest little puppy eyes so he’d give in.

“So needy. I’ll take care of you, baby.” He said before giving you a quick kiss, leaning back so he could look at your pussy. “She’s fucking dripping, princess.” He ran a finger through your folds, making you moan.

He grabbed the vibrator, turning it on a low setting and pressing it to your clit. You moaned, legs trying to close around the toy, but the restraints stopped you.

“Oh, look at that. Someone’s sensitive.” He teased, turning the vibrations up a level.

Curses flew out of your mouth as you tried your hardest to keep still.

“Your fucking pussy is begging to be fucked. You feel empty, angel?” He teased, watching your desperate and empty hole try to clench on anything.

“Yes, I need something, Matty. Please.” You nodded and moaned.

“What do you want? You want my fingers? My cock? Or maybe that dildo you’ve been hiding from me?” He asked with a smug smile.

“No! I want you! I want your fingers!” You begged.

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m better than your toys?” He wasn’t upset about the toys, he liked that you had them actually, but he did want to tease you.

“You’re so much better. Please, Matty.” You whined, trying to move your hips against the vibrator.

“I got you.” He said and pushed two fingers inside you.

You were moaning and crying out from how good it felt. The vibrator and his fingers were such a deadly combo. He already knew how to get your sensitive spots and make you cum quickly with his fingers. The vibrator added onto that was making your eyes roll back and legs shake. You didn’t last long before you were cumming on his fingers. He praised and complimented you as he helped you ride out your high.

Except he didn’t stop. No, he turned up the vibrator actually, his fingers still thrusting in and out. You were crying now, body still trembling as you fought against your restraints.

“Mattheo, please, I can’t.” You sobbed.

He clicked his tongue. “How many times have we been over this, sweetheart? You can take it. Just relax.”

You just cried from the overwhelming pleasure, still pulling at your restraints. Your body was screaming at you to pull away, but you physically couldn’t. Mattheo was trying to soothe you with some praises, telling you how good you were doing. You screamed and cried when he ripped another orgasm from you.

“Good girl. I told you you could take it.” He said, pulling his fingers out. He left the vibrator on you as he came closer, pressing his tip against your entrance. “You’re so beautiful.” He said sweetly before pushing in. “Shit, pretty girl, you feel so good. I’m gonna have to use this thing on you more.” He said as he started thrusting.

You were just a poor sobbing mess below him. His fingers were nice, but his cock was so much thicker and hit deeper. You were moaning and crying, tears running down your face. And that was the hottest thing in the world to him. Your sweet little face with ruined makeup, crying from how good he was making you feel.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me and cum on my cock?” His voice was so sweet compared to what he was doing to you.

“Yes! I’ll be good!” You sobbed. He really shouldn’t be loving this as much as he did. He shouldn’t love seeing you cry and sob.

“Good, I wanna fucking see you cum then.” He said, his eyes dragging down your body, watching your tits bounce for a moment before trailing further to see him fucking your sweet pussy.

You came again, violently. Shaking, screaming, crying, pulling at the restraints. Those might leave marks later, but that’s definitely not a concern at the moment.

He couldn’t take it anymore either. The way you screamed his name, the way you were crying, the way your walls were clenching around him. He came right after you, filling your pussy with his cum.

He’s definitely keeping the vibrator, that’s for sure.

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

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arminsumi · 7 months

Text

OFFICE PLAYTIME

↳ NANAMI ななみ + fem!reader

"...I think you deserve a raise..."

1.3k

Summary : Nanami and his secretary... doing "work" in his office.

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not interact/read : smut/explicit content : daddy kink, unprotected sex, public setting (office sex), secretary x boss trope, namecalling (wh*re, sl*ut, +++), taboo fantasy (sexual relationship with your boss), creampie, m*sturbation (reader), sex on desk, blowjob, mean dom Nanami + soft sweetheart Nanami, praise, dirty talk, light humiliation, horny!reader, implied breeding kink, referring to c*m as "baby batter"

Note : this came from the heart 👍 i love boss nanami. and he's my true daddy (the rest r fake!!!!!) even if i don't write much for him. reqs open. bring me nanami thank u!

"Daddy... I n-need you..."

Nanami raises his brows, looking down at you pawing his clothed bulge while he's sat in his office doing paperwork. His throat constricts as his length starts hardening under your touch.

"Hm, what? What does my angel need?"

You squeeze the outline of his shaft and nearly moan.

"I need you to fuck me..."

"... well aren't you vulgar?" he stifles a laugh. "Alright. Work for it."

"But I need it so bad!"

"Work for it."

"Please, I'm so wet, j-just stuff your cock in me..."

He finally lets out a laugh, and firmly grabs your hand to stop your movements. "You're being such a slut today. Is it because I fucked you raw this morning? Hm? Is that it? I know it is. You're just a cock hungry slut. Is that right? You just want your boss to fuck you instead of putting that brain to work."

"Daddy's s-so mean..." you sigh erotically. Your bedroom eyes make his tip twitch. He practices self-discipline and refrains from shoving his dick down your throat right then.

He lifts your chin, making you look at him. "But you're the one with a kink for it, aren't you? You begged for me to be meaner. So now I will be. And that wasn't a suggestion... that was a command... work for it, slut."

Nanami looks at you coldly while you rip off his belt eagerly and thumb over his leaky cockhead. He's a silent man. So eliciting a groan or erotic noise from him means you're really doing something good... or maybe he's just sensitive. Or both.

"Such a pretty face... and a slutty mouth." he husks as you lower your lips down his cockhead, swirling your tongue around and around and relishing in the feeling of his meaty cock.

"Daddy..." you try to speak om his cock, and he groans at the vibration of your voice. That nickname drives him insane. He's not been much of a kinky man, but calling him daddy? He insisted you do it from day one. It's his weakness but he won't admit it.

He stoically observes you sucking his cock. "How's that pretty hole feeling? Eager to get stuffed I bet."

You nod and sputter "mhm!", your saliva and spit sloppily dripping down his cock. He admires the sight of your mouth being wide open and filled to the brim with his cock, what's a better way to spend boring office hours than with his secretary on his knees like this?

His big manly hand goes to the back of your head and helps you work up and down on his length, making you take more than you can handle while you whorishly smile.

"Damn slut... imagine if your coworkers knew you called your boss "daddy". Do you think they'd still respect you if they knew you were a fucking whore for me? Bet you'd love for them to walk in on you while you get your throat stuffed like this... f-fuck..."

He broke his stoic expression for a moment when he felt a particularly good pang of pleasure shoot through his cock. Nanami usually has lots of stamina, but when when he's using your throat in his office... well the naughty circumstance makes him bust quickly.

You feel him pulse as he creampies your throat, holding you down on it to make sure not a drop of his precious baby batter is wasted.

"Fuuuck... that's a good little slut..."

You frantically dip your finger into your hole and massage it. It's so sensitive even teasing feels too good.

"Don't play with that pussy without daddy's permission." Nanami seethes.

He forces you to stand up and folds you over his desk roughly, carelessly. A stapler and pen box crashes to the carpeted floor and some coworkers turn their heads, but then return back to focusing in their cubicle.

"Sh-shit... you're this wet for me...? Nasty whore. I'll fuck you good. You better be quiet or you're fired, understood?" he threatens half-heartedly while rubbing his cock sideways on your pussy, slapping and rubbing it through your slit a few times.

And you swallow an erotic squeal as he plunges his meaty cock into your eager pussy. Just the sensation of his length gliding past your folds sent a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

"Da—ddyyy! Fuck! You're so fucking big!" you exclaim.

"Sh-shit... not so loud, not so loud... ghnnnn..." he stifles a grunt and starts pounding into your clingy pussy.

A sloppy slapping sound echoes off his office walls, but he can't slow down or go easier on you; it feels way too good. And you're being too slutty for him to think straight. So what if people hear him fucking his secretary? He doesn't care what anyone thinks when he's balls deep in your hole.

"Fuck that's it... that's it... just let yourself feel me. Feel daddy split you open... oh, god that slutty little hole is gripping me so good today..."

He grits his teeth and holds in his groans. A few grunts slip past his lips, it sounds like they come from deep within his chest.

"I'm gonna cu—mmmmf!"

"Then cum and shut the fuck up. Don't need to announce it to the whole office, do you? Or does thought that make you wanna cum even more?"

His words bring you over the edge. He gulps at the sight, because truly it's so beautiful to see your body freak out while orgasming.

"Fuck... oh you're such a good secretary for daddy; I think you deserve a raise." he groans, pressing a heated kiss to your lips.

Your face is so purely erotic. He's entranced by the way your pussy contracts and squeezes tightly, nearly clamping down on his dick.

"That's it... fuck! Ahhh, milk daddy's dick. Milk me with that slutty hole. Take my creampie."

Just as he cums, you cum too, rubbing sluttily on your clit; it totally breaks him to feel your sweet pussy convulsing around his slick shaft. You feel him pumping cum deep into your hole, his cockhead throbbing scaldingly hot as he snuggles it against a sweet spot.

"Ooh... good girl... good fuckin' g-girl..." he slides out, admiring the sheen on your pussy and the cum streaking his cock.

He soothes your shaking body with his big hands, placing a tender kiss on you.

"You're so cute when you're a horny slut." he gives a light smack to your thigh.

You giggle and let out a small noise as his cock slides out with a pop. There's a string of thick cum connecting from his cockhead to your slit, it drips slowly and melts against your hole.

Nanami's frown is so funny, but he's serious about not wasting his baby batter. He fingers it into you slowly.

"Tighten up. Don't wanna see another drop spill out." he commands. "You did say you wanted daddy's babies this morning, didn't you?"

You nod. "Yeah~"

"Good girl. Now get back to work."

Nanami helps you clean up and compose yourself before shoving you out of his office with a playfulness.

He's trying to focus on his papers, but ohm.. your juices soaked them. And now he's thinking about how you're sitting at your secretary desk with his creampie oozing out of your loosened hole.

"Fuck..." he mutters under his breath.

He texts you a short message;

📨 1 NEW FROM : KENTO NANAMI

Check your balance. Use it to buy a pretty outfit. I'm pampering you tonight, so rest up. ❤️ — Daddy

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