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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 months

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Rough Sex w/ MW2

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Smut, Rough Sex, Restraining, Stomach Bulging, Unprotected Sex, Sexual Punishment, Use of a Strap-On, Implied Blow Job, Possessive Sex, Dehumanisation, Slut Shaming, Reader Blaming, Hair Pulling, Slight Dumbification, Blood, Dirty Talk, Profanity, Pet Names, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Ghost

“Just a stupid little whore, aren’t ya,” Simon growled as he pounded you from behind, fingers gripping your hips so tightly that phantom bruises descended upon your skin. The slickness of your abused hole did little to numb the pain of Simon’s rapid, unrelenting pace, of his engorged tip slipping deeper and deeper inside you, plugging you, making any form of escape from your impending unravelment impossible.

You could feel his cock, hot, heavy and ravenous, pulsating inside you, bringing you to the edge of electric euphoria with every thrust.

“Good for nothin’ except takin’ my cock.” He spat, his hand sliding up your spine and rooting itself in your hair. He gripped at the base and pulled your head back, hissing in your ear.

“Isn’t that right, Darlin’?”

You wanted to speak. Wanted to tell him you were his, only his, but the words wouldn’t come out quick enough.

When you didn’t answer in time, he stopped. Pulled out, only the swollen tip remaining lodged inside.

Without warning, he pushed. Hard.

You’d felt full before, but this sudden influx of skin and muscle and heat was too much. It knocked the air out of you, made you cry out as Simon sank balls-deep inside you, impaling your shuttering, wanting body on his dick. He grunted, his grip on your hair tightening.

“That’s it,” he said as you whimpered, cried out. “Take it — take it like the slag you are.”

König

“You wanted this – you wanted me to take you. Fucking attention whore,”

König’s voice reached depths you didn’t think possible as he bounced you on his cock, his stomach coated in your juices as he lay beneath you, thrusting up to plant as much of his member in the tight cavern of your hole as possible.

Even from where he lay, he could see the outline of himself within you. He twitched. Tried to stave off from painting your insides white for just a little longer.

You had no choice but to take it – your wrists bound behind your back with König’s belt – to take every inch of König’s cock.

He stretched you out to lengths you didn’t think possible as he pulled you down onto the base of his member, causing tears to stream down your face as he hit a sliver of you you didn’t think existed.

“God, you’re nothing without me,” he asserted, teeth gritted and restraint pushed to the very limit. “Nothing but a rag doll on the end of my dick – only made for me to use as I please.”

You knew it was true, especially with the coil within you verging on snapping, sending you over the precipice of ruin. König gave you a sly, thin grin.

“Nobody else can fuck you like this, can make you cry like this.” His grip on your waist proved he wasn’t lying, shortened nails leaving crescent indents in your skin.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Soap

“Don’t tell me you’re cryin’ on me now, Darlin’,” Johnny said, not an ounce of sympathy or empathy in his voice. If anything, the realisation that you were just about holding on as he railed you from behind seemed to make him go faster, push harder, knocking his thick, meaty cock into you at a pace that could only be savage.

“C’mon, show me you can take it. I know you can,” he goaded — or perhaps encouraged. You couldn’t be so sure, especially as you could barely string a thought together, never mind the inclination to ask. He watched you, made dead eye contact with you through the mirror that put your undoing on display for him, his eyes piercing and ice.

At your silence, Johnny slapped your backside. Harsh. You yelped at the sting and jolted forwards, only for Johnny to wrap a hand around your throat and pull him back. His balls were flush against your backside, the tightness of your bodies together making him grunt.

“C’mon, mo ghaol — tell me how much you need this dick — show me how much you deserve it.” He squeezed your throat.

Valeria

“You were begging to be used by me — wearing those tight shorts like I wouldn’t notice.” Valeria punctuated her point with a harsh thrust, sending you banging against her desk, ribs aching, pressed against sleek wood. Everything hurt.

The strap-on she’d chosen was one she reserved only for correcting your most egregious behaviour. Apparently, this extended to your fashion choices, too.

“Trying to make my men lose focus, huh? Is that it?” The sound and sensation of your body welcoming the cruel length of her weapon made your cheeks flush and your hole clench, trying to pull it deeper, begging for punishment.

“Have I not given you enough attention? Or are you just hungry for anyone who lays eyes on you,”

You whimpered, trying to keep your head level as your girlfriend battered your insides with nothing less than animalistic fervour and rage.

“You wanna dress like a cheap whore,” she said, voice deep and husking as she lowered her lips to your ear. “Then I get to fuck you like one — my whore.”

Price

“I love you,” he panted. “I love you, I love you, I love you–”

He couldn’t stop – these last few hours with you would be all he had before he had to go on deployment again. And he was determined to make them count.

He’d stuffed himself into you, made light work of grinding your sanity down to its bare foundations as your body shook with the onset of another orgasm.

You were already so sensitive, every knock of his tip against your sensitive spot sending equal euphoria and pain through you.

“Gonna cum in you again,” he said, voice lethargic, words slurred like the blurring edges of watercolours. “Gonna get it as deep as possible. Want it still in you by the time I reach Base.”

The many loads of cum he’d already pumped into you weighed heavy in your belly, almost creating its own centre of gravity as you fought to keep your swollen stomach off the mattress. Anytime you failed, the sensitivity of your skin, the feeling of his load stagnant inside you, made you wince.

You could feel John’s cum leaking out of you as he plunged deep, deeper still, forcing his seed out of the small spaces which weren’t suffocated by his almost impossible girth.

Horangi

“Been stretching you out for hours and you’re still- ngh— fuckin’ tight.” Hong-Jin said, almost as if chiding you. He grunted, balls-deep yet nowhere near satisfied, his resolve being milked from him.

“Gonna need to–” he grunted, “break you in,”

Without warning, he pulled out – only halfway – and plunged back inside you with an almighty push. One that, despite not having the power of his whole length behind it, forced a strangled moan from you.

His breath caught as he felt himself slip into a deeper, darker part of you, one which seemed to try and reject him as your hole pulsed uselessly around him, as if to push him out.

He persisted. Hissing.

When he pulled out, he spotted something.

A small streak of blood along his shaft.

“Doing so well for me, Love,” he groaned, slipping back in and re-establishing a rhythm. You mewled beneath him.

“God, you’re so good — just lying down and taking it – like my own personal fleshlight.”

Alejandro

“So this is why you’ve been acting so strange recently, hm?” Alejandro spoke between pants, arms at either side of your head, blocking off everything that wasn’t him. He gritted his teeth, grunted at the feeling of you tightening around him as he brutalised you with his savage pace, stretching you out and making your hole spasm around his cock.

“Just needed a good fuck, didn’t you?”

You were all but drooling as Alejandro quite literally fucked you dumb, no thoughts in your head save for the desperate electricity between your legs.

When you didn’t answer — or rather couldn’t, for your mind was scarcely able to keep itself intact for the feeling of ruin rapidly descending upon you — Alejandro took your chin between his fingers and forced you to focus on him.

“Didn’t you.” He repeated. To that, the fire in his eyes, you managed a sloppy ‘yes’. Alejandro hummed, pressed himself closer, chest-to-chest.

“Don’t worry, Cariño — we’ve got all night to fuck that pretty little mouth back into working order.”

Rudy

Years of toil, training and discipline have shaped Rudy into the unsuspecting behemoth he is today; as was evident in the way you cried out when his dick skewered you, stretching you out and making your back arch against the mattress. He felt himself pressed to the wall of your abdomen as your stomach met his. He shivered.

“He can’t fuck you like this,” he said, voice low and seething, the intonation of a snake. His usual puppy-eyes were sharp, as if of a feline disposition. He watched you as your eyes, almost having rolled back into your skull, refused to meet his.

“Nobody can have you. You’re mine — only mine.” He slammed into you faster, giving you no preparation and only using the wetness already dripping from between your thighs there to slip in.

“Now, tell me who you belong to.”

Your mouth, agape with silent pain, released nothing. Rudy raised his hand, slapped you. You yelped, the sting sending a shock between your legs. You clenched around him. He growled, head dipping to your collarbone, where you could feel his breath, scorching and unrelenting.

“Let’s try this one more time,” he rasped. When he looked up, his eyes were black. Gone was the man you loved.

“Or I won’t be so forgiving.”

Graves

“You like bein’ used by me, don’t ya,” Graves panted, struggling to keep up with the pace of his own euphoria. He could tell you were close, too, from the way tears streamed down your cheeks and how you suctioned around him, pulling him deeper, pleading with him for more.

“Love bein’ my favourite little cum dump — so well-behaved, just for me.”

Nothing could be truer as you felt him thrusting into you at a speed that suggested anger.

“Never be good for anything except taking my cock like a good slut.”

Your tongue lolled out from the corner of your mouth, drool dripping onto the sheets as Phillip allowed you your silence, especially considering how you’d earned it. Your obedience, your willingness to take everything he gave you. You scratched just the right part of Graves’ ego that had sustained him for this long.

His eyes glinted as he looked down at you.

“Ain’t that right, Doll.”

Gaz

Gaz’s change in personality, admittedly, frightened you. Especially as he stood over you now, having bound your hands together tied them over your head to the bed frame.

You’d tried encouraging him to just touch you already, to take you now as you were bound and helpless. Hell, you’d even ground yourself against his boot, working yourself up into a frenzy all in an effort to make him crack.

He didn’t.

“Oh no,” he said, wagging a finger at you. “You don’t get my dick yet.”

Already having used his belt to immobilise you, he unzipped his jeans and pulled them down to his thighs along with his boxers. Half-hard and beading at the tip, he eyed you, a cruel smile at his lips.

“I’m gonna fuck your face so hard,” he continued, taking you by the hair and forcing your lips to his pulsing member, watching your eyes widen. “That you’ll be eating through a tube for the rest of the week.”

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dexaroth · 1 year

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it's kind of a fun move to make my very very personal blog also the one I post my drawings on

ive purposefully done it to not create that kind of environment where it's just an account posting art, a one-dimensional abstract thing that's so detached that if I were to post something like 'teehee I tried to off myself so I'm opening comms to pay the bills' it'd be met with utmost surprise bc it'd break the illusion yknow?

but sometimes I do want some drawings to not have context. to be as impersonal as a vintage figure whose sculptor has never been fully known or a golden locket with the picture of someone who you don't know anything about

I want both, to be honest. it's always been a struggle of the need of external validation but also to not want to taint everything with myself

I want to draw a pet portrait for someone and not have it be judged with all the ramblings and half-jokes about how everything sucks every now and then.

I want to draw a guy being mechanically separated for no reason and not have it show up besides someone's pet portrait and having to explain to the average person I don't even know why I like gore so much besides rendering it is fun

it's all like a cycle of making it clear who is behind the art for context but also sometimes wanting everything to speak for itself and wanting a sort of pure reaction to it

and it culminates into that overly familiar feeling.. of wanting to be consistent. to have a feel, a look that you can maybe hope someone will identify as yours.. and the question is always the same - for what? why? why does it matter?

if anything the first thing I'd ever say to someone who remotely showed interest in art and wanted to know my side of it is that nothing matters and everything is subjective and that there will always be people who see too much meaning where there isn't and people who miss the point entirely. and that diversity is just as good as quality and not a binary switch that you have to pick for the rest of your life. and that often by trying to achieve perfection you just end up dumping what gave your art a personal touch because it wasn't absolutely on par with the version of you that you so desperately want people to identify you with or the vibe you want to give off or whatever else

it's kind of a problem that also has different connotations depending on the way wherever you post works, too

on devart and I think insta too favorites and likes are the easiest way to show a kind of support that happens to streamline everything into images on a page instead of actually taking in most detail, the title or description or lack thereof, maybe even a message or line or music lyric intended to aid in the perception.. that ends up getting completely ignored because it takes extra effort to do. and it gets exponentially worse the more people you follow

then, well.. tumblr. because of the way the posts are organized and at least show captions it has a bit of a leg up, but then the sideblog stuff comes up. posts 95% of the time only give traction to the account that posted it, so a sideblog where you reblog your art is pretty much just a gallery for the convenience of whoever follows them. if you post on that sideblog however, then that facilitates no one visiting your main and just looking at the drawings, leading to the art-artist detachment as it is also plenty of extra steps and effort

then, independently, the path you choose is hard to undo. choose to be unknown and be bound to the façade you have to keep and not break your persona, or put all bits of yourself out to the public and there will forever be an image/ background version of you that will contextualize everything you do

try to turn around and choose to hide and it will put people off and affect how some will look at your new stuff now that you're less of a social butterfly because of the instinct of curiosity and wanting to know what happened , choose to show yourself and now you're too real and people don't want to associate with you because of the things you express or how it hits different knowing x and y or just not caring about you enough to be bothered to keep up with your life with sporadic drawings inbetween

it's all ironically about your own self-image and knowing others who know you

oh and it just hit me the financial side of things too. but that's too much for me rn and it's sort of a bonus to my point anyways

idk man. I feel like I'm having a stroke while an influencer tries to explain branding to me

#the public vs hidden thing is also like trying to balance the evils #do you want to enable being made fun of by quirky neurotypicals and edgelords bc of ur 'archetype'#or do you want to enable everyone to put any meaning to your art including dogshit ones and treat it like a commodity #public enough to have your name or style used pejoratively to describe other people #or hidden enough to blend in and represent nothing and say nothing. just like a blank piece of paper #these two sort of types are everywhere and there just doesnt seem to be a grey area. its just.... awkward.#ah yes look at my painting and tell me what you think of it! dont take me into consideration at all though. pretend this came out of thin>#>air bc thats how i want it to be perceived. bc of course we all know thats a thing that can be controlled by sheer will right? lol #i want to draw whatever. i want to stop giving a shit. not care of what people think its all about. but i want to be seen as well. ..#and its frustrating bc i find it immeasurably valuable to find meaning in the mundane #to find the whimsy and care on someone's 'bad' stickman cat doodle even tough sketches dont mean barely anything to the artist #and then i get sad when someone below my skill level finds My sketches good despite me posting them as a 'look at how bad this looks lol'#just. being desperate for wanting everything to go your way #like a filmmaker who swears the theater is an integral part of their movie when in reality a guy watching at home cherishes it just as much #i think id turn inside out of disgust if i ever truly legitimally considered all the 'wrong' ways people can experience my art #compressed to hell or they just didnt bother to zoom in and didnt notice the brushstrokes and effects #which is totally normal and common and i myself do it! but my ego says nuh uh. go feel bad bc other ppl have agency lol #i can definitely pretend i dont care anymore and even try to believe it so much i unconsciously start assimilating it #but the Moment someone comments something that contradicts what i thought and wished was happening i just. break .#im truly trying to stave off negative thoughts and teaching myself that what others think of me doesnt define me #and one day im overhearing something i wasnt meant to know and its that someone thinks im a child #and ends up treating me like one. like im too stupid to do anything #and then i look back at my eyestrain/cartoonish stuff thats in fact considered childish by people who try to use age as>#a token of 'i dont enjoy X because X is for kids because/therefore im an AdulT! respect me!'#and i just have to face the reality that thats the image of me my art gives off by itself and what society chose it to symbolize as well #which it all leads to wanting so deeply a way to control how others view you because of how age gate-keeping for example is so stupid #and it bleeds into every other feeling and paranoia and self doubt #either you act cool and lie about who you are or let others label you what they see fit especially what they consider to be deserving of>#>ridicule #dextxt

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bimbobaggins69 · 3 months

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𝟏𝟖+ 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈

Eddie is being driven up the fucking wall and he’s at his wits end. He can’t take it anymore, not when you’re prancing around the apartment with a tiny, see through, white nightie. The material is so thin he can see your nipples and the way they’re peaked, right through the fabric. It’s like you’re doing it to be cruel, although Eddie knows this is your everyday usual sleep attire, he just wishes for the sake of his newly pierced cock that you wouldn’t do all the things that turn him on so fiercely, which is quite literally just you being yourself. He couldn’t help that he thought the mundane shit you did; like the way you slurped up your spaghetti or flipped through the television channels, was so effortlessly sexy. But he’s aching for your touch, so when his good friend/piercer Nate gave him the go ahead to masturbate, he concocted a devious little plan, one that would involve you and him getting off, together.

So that’s how you found yourself laid back on your shared bed, legs spread wide as you plunge your fingers deep inside your creamy cunt, wet squelches reverberate off the walls making Eddie groan as he watches you at the foot of the bed. His hard, leaking cock in his hand; pumping up and down to the image of you pleasuring yourself so beautifully for him. The glint of the jewelry catches your eye, finding Eddie’s big brown orbs before trailing down his tattooed and pierced body, taking in the image of his newest piercing and how you couldn’t wait to see what it felt like buried deep inside your walls, hitting your spot until you eventually squirted all over Eddie and the mattress. That image has you immediately clenching around your fingers and biting your lip as you stave off yet another orgasm, edging yourself to near painful levels.

Eddie immediately gets a better idea and crawls up the bed, now hovering above you as his hair forms a perfect curtain, secluding you both off from everything else around. “Fuck, I need to feel some part of you princess.” He confesses as he begins to glide his lube slick cock over the entirety of your slit. The jewelry rubs against your clit so perfectly, your legs begin to tremble and your back arches off the bed in an almost exorcism like fashion. The way the cold, wet metal rubs over your swollen bundle of nerves; ever so gently, has you closer to the finish line quicker than anything ever has before. Everything is so slippery with perfect friction, making your pale pink polished toes curl as you raise them higher in the air. Trying to open yourself as wide as possible, selfishly taking everything you can as your high hits you like a ton of bricks. Body spasming as your walls clench tightly around nothing and your eyes snap shut, stars dancing across your eyelids. Eddie continues rubbing the underside of his cock over your cunt until he’s shooting spurts of his warm, sticky cum all over your stomach; most of it pooling in your belly button. Eddie eagerly slurps it up, then spits it into your awaiting mouth before his soft, sodden lips find yours as you both swap his cum in a greedy, tongue filled kiss.

Part two

#— 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #I know absolutely nothing about the healing process for dick piercings so…#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic

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kissingchoso · 10 months

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i’m so into the thought of your “best friend” just pressing you into the bed, making out with you.

it starts off as a slow afternoon. the sun was shining directly into your room with a nice summer breeze entering through the crack of your window. your favorite album is quietly playing on the record player somewhere in the corner. and there lies a handsome boy, right on top of you, dancing his lips on yours as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

he excuses this as a way to pass the time. lazily make out with one another until the heat from the summer and your hormones becomes too bothersome and you’re whining for him to pull away.

his tongue traces against your bottom lip before gaining access to your mouth. teeth gently knock into each other every once in a while the more he tilts his head. any onlooker would probably think he’s trying to devour you whole— and for a split second, you would’ve believed it.

he swallows all of your small sounds, every sigh, moan. it’s all claimed by him with no chance of you owning up to it completely.

this is the part where hands wander and your bodies readjust themselves. large hands slide from your hips down to the backs of your knees, pushing them up and out so he can slot his hips in the space. your cotton shorts slide up even further from the new position and right against your clothed cunt do you feel the hardness of his dick pressed up right against you. your smooth legs wrap around his waist to keep him trapped there while your hands slide up to the back of his hair.

you moan quietly against his lips at the new position, silently craving more but you didn’t know where to even begin asking for it.

it’s fine though. your best friend’s got it covered.

he pulls his lips away from yours to allow you to catch your breath, a thin string of saliva connects you two together before inevitably snapping away. you don’t get to properly look at him before he’s diving back down, peppering kisses against your check and all the way down to your sweaty neck.

it’s so hot in there.

a large hand slides its way up and under the tank top you were wearing. the heat from his hand almost feels scorching but that sensation fizzles out to pleasure once it reaches your breast. this is usually how far this goes before he stops completely, but there’s no end in sight this time around. your nipple is teased with his thumb rubbing against it every once in a while and causing it to pert up against his ministrations.

at this time, your moans have picked up much more. your head is pressed against your pillows and your rocking your hips against his without fully realizing it.

he doesn’t realize that he already has begun to grind down into you, offering the both of you some reprieve this way.

the heat becomes more pertinent when he breathes against your neck. his lips found a new spot to assault for a little while but this is a certain spot that has you keening. your body temperature has undoubtedly gone up higher and you can now feel the sweat beads forming against your pores.

you breathe his name out airily, squeezing the strands of hair that find themselves tangled between your fingers. but he doesn’t answer, opting to move his lips and tongue against any skin he finds.

again, you try his name but a little firmer. finally getting the hint, does he pull away to look down at you with far away eyes, struggling to bring himself back to his current reality.

“hm? what’s wrong?” he initially asks, bringing his hand from under your shirt to to cup your cheek. “‘s too much for you?”

quickly, you shake your head. “no, not that,” is all you say, legs tightening against him. the movement causes him to grunt slightly. “what is it then?”

“‘m really hot,” you whisper, pouting up at him. it’s only then does he realize the heat in the room. the once opened window does nothing to stave off the warmth emanating in the air, nor the rising heat from the skin to skin contact your bodies are making. there’s even hair sticking to his damn forehead from how hot he is.

he blinks a couple of times before nodding. “let me close the window and get the AC going, yeah?” he reasons.

while yes, it would be good to get some cold air circulating, he just wants to be between your legs again and making out with you. even if it doesn’t lead to anything more.

before he can move off of you, you grab his elbows. “just take your clothes off��” you say, albeit desperately.

“baby…”

“it’s fine. i promise. ‘s just me,”

“i know, i know. but we can’t go back after i get you completely naked,” he starts, eyes trailing down the bead of sweat that slides from your jaw to the base of your neck. “might not be able to stop myself at that point.”

you reach up from the bed to kiss him a couple of times, each of which he reciprocates immediately. “i don’t want you to, dummy.” you giggle. “if you don’t do anything, i swear to god i might implode or something.”

a devilish grin appears on his face at the implication. “been holding out on me, baby. if i knew i left you like this, i would’ve gotten you naked a long time ago.” he finalized his statement by sitting up, sliding his shirt off completely.

“we can make up for loss time starting now,”

“oh, i plan to sweetheart.”

kaeya, childe, kazuha (biased), aether, kaveh (i have a soft spot for him), hinata (extremely biased), bokuto, sugawara, kuroo, atsumu, gojo, toji, sero, shindou, steve harrington, eddie munson, your other favs ofc <3

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swiftispunk · 7 months

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Hello! If you’re taking requests currently (if not I apologize), but I have one that’s eating away at my brain. Joel and a reader with nipple piercings. Thanks and I love you and your writing 💓💓💓

flesh and metal | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 2.4k summary: [no outbreak] porn no plot. you meet joel at a bar. he really likes your nipple piercings. that's about it. warnings etc: smut, oral (m receiving), mild hair pulling, a lot of spit, face fucking, titty fucking, nipple play, coming untouched, nasty dirty blowjob bc i said so, joel miller is a boob man. no use of y/n. a/n: i wanted this to be longer but alas, my brain so said no. dedicated to @mrsquill.

You have absolutely no qualms over telling men to "fuck off" at the bar.

Most nights, you're content to drink alone, or else enjoy the company of friends, staving off unwanted attention with an errant flick of your wrist or something a little more stern, if necessary.

Of course, then there are nights like tonight. Nights where you leave the house with intention, hoping to nab a beautiful stranger on your own terms. When you'd donned your short denim skirt and thin white camisole, flesh and metal poking through the delicate fabric, you'd known the message you'd been sending. You'd known what you'd wanted.

Tonight, it had started with a drink. Doesn't it always start with a drink? You'd already turned down a couple of willing suitors, men you may have otherwise settled for if you'd only been able to take your eyes off him all night. In his forties or fifties - you can't be sure - broad and strong, all greying curls and deep brown eyes. He'd taken up an entire booth to himself, nodding offhandedly to passing servers and patrons. Dark plaid had strained over wide shoulders and big hands had clutched a crystal glass of bourbon. And those eyes - they'd just kept finding yours.

You hadn't been waiting for a cue, but you'd been grateful when he'd offered one, cocking his chin for you to join him after you'd downed the tequila shot the bartender had informed you had come from, "the fella in the booth over there."

He hadn't said much but he hadn't needed to; all the usual tells had been there. All the lingering stares and polite compliments. And your favourite, of course, the one most men fall victim to - the one where their eyes flit down to your chest, noticing the nubs of steel poking through your shirt on the peak of each of your breasts, the gears turning in their brains as they ask themselves all the usual questions:

Do they make her nipples more sensitive?

Does she like when someone sucks on them?

Will she let me?

And he'd find out soon enough, but the answers are yes, yes and yes.

"Wanna get outta here?" he'd asked before he'd even finished his drink, when all you'd parsed from him was his name - Joel Miller - and the fact he'd been there on a rare night out. Maybe for the same reason as you.

It's how you end up here, crowded up against the wall of his front entry while his mouth devours yours, his massive hands greedy where they grab at your arms and waist. His touch is certain and forceful when his fingers coil around the base of your throat to press your skull into the drywall, giving him free rein to explore your neck with his lips and teeth.

He's not slow. He's not patient. When his thigh invades the space between your legs, you grind your clothed heat into it and he doesn't stop you.

His lips find yours again and you charge your kiss with new fervor, all wild, hungry energy when you bite down on his plush bottom lip and he groans into your mouth.

"God, you're so fuckin' hot," he rasps, one hand moving lower to hike your skirt up over your thighs. "Wanted you like this all night."

There's a deliciously dark edge to his voice that makes your skin prickle with anticipation. You can tell already -

This man is going to give you exactly what you need.

"Me too, Joel," you sigh, clutching at the sides of his face to reconnect your mouths, speaking through heated kisses. You waste no time, reaching between your bodies to run your fingers over the bulge in his jeans. "I want this."

Joel growls, low in his chest, and then he's pulling back, tilting your face upwards with a firm hand on your chin.

"Open for me?" he requests and there's just a hint of doubt there - almost as if he's testing the waters, gauging just how willing you are to yield to him.

And you are so, so fucking willing.

You glance up at him, batting your lashes as you loosen your jaw, presenting your tongue for him without hesitation.

Two thick fingers are taking up your mouth then and his gaze darkens as he watches you close your lips around them instinctively, eyelids fluttering shut. His skin tastes like salt and leather.

Joel's mouth twitches into a smirk.

"That's good, honey," he says. "Dirty little thing, aren't you?"

You just nod and suck until Joel bring his fingers, coated with your spit, to the apex of your thighs, shoving the thin fabric of your underwear aside to rake them over your folds.

He catches your responding gasp with his mouth, licking between your parted lips as his fingers toy sloppily with your clit. He hums in approval when you melt into the wall, already dripping wet and weak for him.

"Take your shirt off," he orders, his fingers still working your clit as you lift the fabric over your head. You keep your eyes on him, watching his pupils widen as his gaze falls to your breasts, those gears in his brain turning all over again when he sees them bare -

The metal bars that pierce each pebbled nipple, shining in the dim light of his living room. He curses lowly and then it's as though he forgets your pussy altogether, both his hands suddenly overtaking your tits, big palms cupping the flesh there while his thumbs experimentally flick over the piercings.

And - fuck - it never gets old how fucking good that feels.

You moan, a high-pitched, keening sound, revelling in the feel of those calloused thumbs skirting over soft skin and hard metal. Your pussy pulses between your legs, wetness gathering and pooling at your centre, staining his dark jeans. Unconsciously, you grind into his thigh, seeking friction where you need it most, while Joel, engrossed in his efforts, suddenly tweaks each pierced nub between two fingers, tugging curiously at the bars and making you cry out in a mixture of pain of pleasure.

"Shit, yeah, you like that?" he asks and before you can answer, he does it again, clouding your thoughts till there's only him and the rough drag of his thumbs over your nipples, the grinding friction of denim against your aching cunt. He chuckles darkly at you falling apart for him, easily folding when he grits out, "You gonna let me fuck you?"

You nod, overtly eager, and then he's guiding you up the stairs to his bedroom, stripping you out of your skirt the second you're through the door, exposing your lacey black panties beneath.

Rough hands grip your waist and pull you into his chest, Joel's mouth crushing yours in another commanding kiss. He's a good kisser, you think, greedy and indulgent, messy in the best way. His hands find your tits again, pinching and prodding at your pierced nipples - fascinated. He likes them, you note; can't seem to keep his hands off them.

You love that.

You're so lost in his touch and his kiss that you barely notice the backs of your knees hitting the edge of his bed until he wrenches his mouth free from yours, that firm grip on your waist pushing you down so you're seated and staring up at him.

"Right there, baby, you sit right fuckin' there," he instructs you as he unzips his jeans and frees his cock, hard and leaking and right at your eye line.

"Show me that mouth."

You part your lips without a second thought, staring up at him as he guides the tip of his cock into your waiting mouth, groaning as he presses his hips forward hastily, impatient.

Perfect.

He takes a moment there, softly cups your face in his massive palm, traces a thumb over your cheekbone. Sweet, for a just a fleeting breath.

"Gonna fuck your pretty little face, okay?" he tells you.

Fuck - yes.

You moan around him and it seems to egg him on; a hand curls into the hair at the back of your head and you let him hold you steady as he begins to fuck your face in slow, agonizing thrusts. The tip of him collides with the back of your throat on each stroke, his impressive girth straining your jaw. Coarse hairs brush at your upper lip each time he pushes in deep and your throat opens obligingly to take him.

"Keep it open real fuckin' wide for me," he says as unwitting tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You hum contentedly, slackening your jaw as much as you can and Joel moans lewdly, the pace of his thrusts coming faster, rougher, now that he knows you can take it. You work to breathe through your nose as you choke and splutter around his cock, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth and soaking his length. Salt streams from your eyes and you gasp for air when he eventually pulls you off him with a firm hand in your hair and a wrecked growl.

"Fuck me. Get it nice and wet for me," he orders you, even as thin strings of saliva connect your lips to his cock. Still, you do as he says, fixing your eyes on his as you collect a pool of spit on your tongue and aim it onto his length. You wrap your wet, puffy lips around him and bob up and down till he glistens with you.

"Yeah, there you go. Good girl."

You beam at the praise, sitting back into your hands as you await further instruction. Joel's eyes dart down to your chest again and you think you know what he wants. Sure enough -

"Squeeze those tits together."

You obey without question, arching your back and clutching at the sides of your breasts, tightly pressing them together as Joel inches closer. He reaches out to flick his thumb over a pierced nipple, half-hooded gaze intent on your chest as he spits a slow stream of saliva there, watching as it disappears between the valley of your breasts.

There's a low grunt, a shaky exhale, and then he's wedging his stiff length between your tits. He holds you in place with a solid hand on your shoulder, thick fingers pressing down hard enough to bruise while he slowly fucks your tits. You throw your head back, raking your thumbs over your nipples while you squeeze his cock a little tighter between the swells of your breasts.

"That feel good?" he asks, his low voice strained as he eyes your thumbs working over your nipples. "When you play with 'em?"

You bite your lip and nod because it's true; it feels fucking amazing, those tiny spears of steel heightening every minute sensation just like they always do. Joel murmurs, "Shit," like you've just made him aware of something vital, backing off and dropping to his knees between your legs, barely giving you a chance to catch you breath before he's licking a thick stripe through your soaking folds, his hands shooing yours away to firmly cup your bare breasts.

He moans at the taste of your arousal on his tongue but he doesn't linger there long. No, instead he moves to your chest, sucking a pierced nipple into his mouth and experimentally swirling his tongue over the hardened nub.

He hums in approval at the way it makes you curse and moan and cry his name, relentless as he moves to the other nipple and repeats that pattern - swirling and sucking, swirling and sucking - his massive palms eclipsing the globes of your breasts as he squeezes them tightly together.

You writhe under his mouth, your neglected pussy drenching his sheets and clenching around nothing - but Joel doesn't let up. His tongue flicks over each nipple in deliberate, coaxing strokes. When he bites down, the clanging sound of teeth hitting metal makes your insides curl. White heat gathers in your core as your breathing grows ragged, panted moans rising in pitch and Joel - Joel seems acutely aware of the response.

"Bet you can come just from this, can't you?" he whispers hoarsely.

You shake your head, braced on your elbows. "Need more, Joel. I don't - "

You don't know. Impossibly, it feels like you could come, Joel's tongue insistent over your nipples, the precise laps of his tongue increasing in pace and strength, drawing you nearer and nearer to some impending edge.

"You're close, aren't you?" he purrs, voice low, and the vibrating sensation of his voice against your nipples is downright dizzying. Your eyes roll back into your skull and you fist his sweaty curls, holding his face flush against your chest because -

"Yes."

"I wanna see," he mumbles huskily against your skin. "I wanna see you come like this."

He works his tongue feverishly over each nipple; first one, then the other, over and over, his mouth wide as he licks obscenely over them, fucking shameless with it, lasciviously enthusiastic.

"Fuckfuckfuck," you stammer wildly when he resumes the firm, lithe flicks of his tongue over one, swollen, puffy nipple, flesh straining and wet around glistening steel. Tension pulls taut at your nerves; your cunt aches and slick pools at your centre and before you can even warn him, you're coming, shuddering violently as you arch back into the mattress with a gasp.

How in the fuck?

Your neglected pussy throbs as the unlikely climax washes you in waves of overwhelming heat that's somehow burning hot and perfect and still not nearly fucking enough. You're moaning out a symphony all the same, Joel following you down into the sheets, caging you in as he hovers over you and sucks hard at a nipple, circling the piercing under his tongue until you start to see white.

"Joel - fuck - please - s'too much," you beg, writhing beneath him and clawing at his shoulders till he pulls off your tit with a wet pop. He watches your face closely until he feels you've caught your breath before diving forward to lick a fat stripe over the same nipple he'd just finished with. He smirks devilishly when you squirm away from the contact with a squeal.

"So fuckin' sensitive," he marvels.

He climbs off you at last, tersely telling you, "Up," while he stands to lift his shirt over his head and pull his jeans off.

You think he means on the bed so you quickly move to all fours, positioning yourself ass up for him willingly. Joel laughs as he comes up behind you, assertively smacking the meat of your thigh.

"I don't think so, sweetheart," he says. "Wanna see those perfect fuckin' tits bouncin' when you're ridin' my cock."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you

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inkedells · 1 year

Note

hear me out: dbf!joel railing u on a bed full of plushies HEKSHDKS <3 maybe ur clutching or biting onto one and he's just cooing at u calling u a good girl HEHE

ok don't mind me popping my mf pussy w this drabble (ALSO YES THIS IS THE DBF!JOEL REQUEST THAT DROVE ME CRAZY YALL)

summary/bg info: coming home from college for winter break and acting on the sexual tension that exists between you and your dad’s best friend, joel--while finding extra comfort in your childhood plushies.

words: ~700

mdni! | requests open but responses not guaranteed.

“God, you’re a fuckin’ shy little thing, aren’t you?”

Your mouth only gaped open around a silent moan as your back arched against your childhood bed. You weren’t sure how it ended up in your hands, but you were clutching your favorite plushie, a brown bear with matted curly fur, as Joel continued his ministrations against your clit. The sight of the waistband of your sleep shorts stretched around his wrist was intoxicating, and so was the way his hand moved from underneath the thin cover of its fabric.

“Joel,” you whined, biting your lip as your hips grinded against his hand.

“Mm, that’s right. Only I know how to take care of this pretty pussy. Go ahead, sweetheart, hug your stuffies. I know you wanna.”

You hummed at that, nodding enthusiastically. Your breathing uneven and frantic from arousal, you lazily gathered the plushies surrounding you in your arms as Joel manhandled you until your ass was in the air and your cheek was pressed against the numerous stuffed toys cradled in your arms.

“Now listen here, baby girl. You’re gonna let me fuck this,” He paused to trail a finger along your seam through the fabric of your shorts, as if to make clear exactly what “this” was referring to, “And all you gotta do is keep making those pretty noises and cuddling your little toys, yeah?”

You whined high in your throat in confirmation as Joel slipped his hands underneath the hem of your shorts to palm your ass.

“Not good enough,” He tsked, still massaging circles into your plump flesh, “Repeat it back to me.”

You swallowed, a blush creeping up on the apples of your cheeks as you clutch handfuls of stuffies. “You’re gonna… fuck… me—”

“—Fuck what?”

You groaned, turning to bury your face in the pile of stuffed toys beneath you. “My pussy,” You mumbled. You were positive your face was already beet red from embarrassment.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” He teased. You knew fully well he heard you, but indulging him in this manner was only making the heat between your legs grow hungrier, so you complied.

“You’re gonna fuck my pussy,” You said clearly, “And I’m—I’m gonna cuddle my stuffies while you use it.”

Satisfied with your response, Joel tugged your shorts down until you felt cool air hitting your pussy. Not for long, though, because soon the radiating heat of Joel’s cock was taking over as he swept his weeping tip through your folds.

“Gonna put it in now, ‘kay baby girl?” He voiced in that gravelly low rumble, and although he posed it as a question, you were smart enough to recognize it as a warning for the inevitable. Joel didn’t bother properly stretching you out, he wanted it tight so it would swallow him up just the way he wanted.

He slammed into you, ripping a coarse moan from your throat before the pain of the stretch became too much and you bit down on one of the stuffies in order to stave off a scream.

“Aww,” He mocked, “Is it hurting you, sweetheart?”

“So… big,” You managed to get out, eyes droopy and your brain completely mush as he pistoned in and out of your inviting heat, “Too… big…”

“Oh, fuck,” He groaned to himself, “You really are stretched. Fucking ruined you.” His breathing intensified as he lightly traced where you and him met with his fingers, clearly aroused by the contrast between your tight little cunt and the way his huge cock is forcibly stretching it open. His feathery touches combined with his abrupt, punishing thrusts had you pushing your ass back even further against his front, craving the abusive jerking of his hips.

Joel breathed an amused laugh at that. “Actually, it seems like it’s just the right amount of big if it’s got you pushing back for more. You like it painful, huh?”

“F-Fuck, Joel, yeah. Yeah, I love it painful. God, please, fill me up Joel. Your cum, I want it, please.”

Joel faked a wince at your words. “Looks like the innocent little girl’s suddenly got a mouth on her. That happen a lot? Does cock tend to get you dirty mouthed?”

With your cheek pressed into one of your stuffies, you peered up at him from the corner of your eye as you breathed the words, “Just yours.” It was only barely loud enough for him to hear it over the wet sounds of him fucking into your dripping pussy. In fact, you weren't even sure if he had heard you until a hint of a smile crossed his face and he told you in that warm, rumbly rasp, "Mm, I know. Because you're my good girl," with every proceeding thrust reeking of pride.

see my masterlist here

A/N: may or may not do a permanent taglist? not sure yet, just depends on the demand for it soooo maybe let me know in my asks if you want to be on a *possible* taglist for my fics (i only rlly write joel).

anyway thank you all for the support for this blog and my fics!!! truly love you all, and def don't be afraid to reach out and say hello, i need more mutuals whether you're a writer or not!!

taglist for this fic: @777-wonders , @scarlettstarlettsarletts , @pedrosbabygirl , @deathsholywaterr , @devilmademewriteit

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 months

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Hmmm let's see maybe this one is not so crazy but Steve asks us to touch ourselves while he watches.

18+

“Really?” You ask, brows pinched together in confusion. You’re already hot thinking about it, you’re certainly going to enjoy yourself but Steve? Well— is this what he really wanted? “What about you?”

Steve huffed out a breathy laugh, sprawled out against his pillows, his hand already squeezing at his half hard cock beneath his sweatpants. He gaze roamed over you, greedy, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes wide. You saw him swallow hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You were too far away to kiss it.

“Trust me, babe,” he nodded, looking drunk, looking gone. Steve was far too excited at the prospect of what was about to happen. He’d been aching to ask for so long, overly eager when you agreed. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

You smiled at that, shy with how pent up he seemed. So you nodded and settled back into the chair you’d taken from the boy’s desk. Steve lifted his chin in encouragement, giving his cock another soft squeeze.

“That’s it, baby,” he coaxed softly. “Get comfy, yeah? You good?”

You nodded, lips pressed together and the room seemed to grow warmer despite the way your sleep shorts stretched high across the tops of your thighs. You felt as greedy as Steve did as you let your eyes fall to his lap, where his large hand was palming over his obvious excitement.

“What d’you want me to do?” You whispered. It seemed too quiet to talk normally now, the mood set, the lights low, the rest of the house, the street, the town almost silent. “Should I—?”

You gestured to your shirt, an old summer camp thing that was sun bleached and faded. “Should I take it off?”

Steve grunted a little at that, his cock kicking up against his fingers. “Whatever you want, ‘kay? Why don’t you just do what you’d do if I wasn’t here, huh?” Steve sucked in a breath when you went straight for the space between your legs, fiddling with the thin strip of cotton until you could stretch your shorts aside. “Fuck, honey. There you go.”

You let your eyes slip shut at first, head resting back against the chair, your fingers pushing against your underwear until you could feel yourself soak through the material. You avoided your clit for now, fingers pinching the cotton so you could pull it between your folds. It felt vulgar and dirty, your pussy pulsing around the material you pulled taut, hips arching against the friction.

Steve choked out a moan, a rough sound that spurred you on, your eyes half open and hazy as you watched him scramble to set his cock free. It sprung out and slapped against his bare stomach, his hand wrapping around the girth to pump it once, twice.

“Oh, Christ, baby,” Steve hissed, his eyes completely focused on your cunt and the way you were teasing it with your own underwear. “That’s fucking dirty, s’hot as hell, fuck—”

You whined, face scrunching with pleasure, the heat that nipped at your skin only spiking with Steve’s words, his praise.

“You’re being so good,” he whispered, the wet shlick of his cock in his fist punctuating each word. “You look crazy fucking sexy, right now, d’you know that? Lemme see your tits, honey, please? They’re so pretty.”

You scrambled to yank your top up, clenching the material between your bared teeth so you could let Steve stare at your bare chest, nipples pebbled for him and the cool air.

Steve hissed, his thumb rubbing harshly over his slit as he tugged at himself a little faster, his own teeth biting down on his bottom lip, his cheeks red and his eyes glassy. He looked gone, wrecked, and so, so fucking pretty.

“Get ‘em wet for me, baby, show them some love for me.”

You nodded, brows knitted together and Steve knew you’d do anything he asked of you. It made him grip his cock harder, staving off the orgasm that was creeping up on him far too fast but then you took your fingers from your pussy and let a little pool of spit cover them, swiping your mess over a hard nipple.

“You’re going to fucking kill me,” Steve gasped out, his voice rough and cracking. He threw his head back, messy hair against his pillow and his jaw tense. “Fu-uck me, honey, shit.”

You were desperate now, fingers on your clit and rubbing messily across it, a harsh swipe back and forth that was sure to make you come hard, if that’s what Steve wanted to see.

And then:

“Yeah, baby, that’s it, that’s it.” Steve was watching you again, slack jawed and his hand fisting himself furiously, his gaze on the way out were bucking against your touch. “Lemme watch you come and I’ll make sure you do it again, yeah?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve baby blurb

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onismdaydream · 2 months

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a collection of drabbles of jujutsu kaisen characters based on nsfw twitter videos

✧˖°. — volume 1 [ ft. megumi, yuji, nanami ]

viewer discretion is advised: fem/afab reader. aged up characters. unprotected sex, p in v, creampies, slight breeding kink [m. f.] | teasing, handjob, soft smut, m. sub [y. i.] | fingering, dirty talk, pet names, soft m. dom [k. n.]

✧˖°. — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO (episode 1)

“baby,” megumi groaned, his hands squeezing roughly at your hips. “gotta stop doing that or i’ll cum.”

you felt so good around him, your tight walls clamping around his cock and dragging out low moans as megumi bit his bottom lip. lewd sounds echoed, skin smacking against skin and the squelching of your dripping cunt made the room even hotter. he could feel the sweat beading at his hairline, some of his dark strands already sticking to his face.

“it's okay. you can cum.” your voice is so sultry, so tempting as you bounce yourself on his lap, your breasts following the movement.

“‘m not wearing a condom, remember?” how could you forget though? feeling him raw was always the best for you, you could feel how hot his cock was, could feel each vein drag along your walls — and it's not like he ever complained about it either. but megumi would always pull out, choosing to release his load on your body instead of inside.

but you needed to feel him fill you up, wanted to feel him claim you entirely. “please, ‘gumi, cum in me. promise it's okay.”

“s-shit…” he breathed out, lips parted as he panted and watched you fuck yourself faster. you looked beautiful, so desperate as you kept whining and whispering little pleas. “can't. gotta pull out…”

but his hands were grabbing at any part of your body he could, groping your tits and holding your waist, not even trying to push you away. you could feel him twitching inside you, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to stave off his impending orgasm.

“please, wanna be filled. pleasepleaseplease,” you begged, practically crying for a creampie with the tears forming at your lash line. it felt so right the way megumi was deep inside you, you can't imagine him pulling out and leaving you empty and aching. “need it so bad.”

megumi wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him so he could plant his feet on the bed and thrust into you, setting a new and harsh pace as he chased his high. there was no way he could deny you, especially when your pussy felt this perfect. “shit, yeah, gonna cum, gonna fill you up.”

✧˖°. — YUJI ITADORI (episode 2)

yuji couldn't help the way his hips bucked up, abs twitching and fingers flexing at the thin sheets underneath him. even with your thigh draped across his lap, he just could not stay still. every small movement made his entire body jump.

“does it feel good, baby?” you coo, fingers circling and rubbing over his cock head. the answer was obvious, a wet spot was forming at the band of his briefs and quiet moans kept leaving his throat, but you liked hearing it from him anyway.

“y-yeah,” yuji choked out, “feels really good.”

you hum, eyes flickering up to his face to see it twisted in pleasure. yuji always looked so cute like this, his cheeks flushing to match his hair and pretty lips parted as he panted. your hand continued to tease him, slowly drifting up and down his length, the occasional bit of pressure making him whine.

you could feel his cock kicking underneath his underwear, each graze of your gentle touch adding to the damp patch on the fabric.

“you’re making a mess, yuji,” you tease, a sly smile pulling at your lips as you press on his sensitive tip. “look how wet you are.”

“oh fuck…” he moaned, eyes rolling back and hips lifting off the mattress.

“so cute.” your hand moves down, cupping his balls and fondling them to make him squirm underneath you. he was so reactive, and it never failed to make you leak your own arousal.

“gonna make me c-cum,” he gasped, voice hitching when you squeezed his shaft, “if you keep doing that.”

“it's okay, baby,” you pressed a soft kiss to his pink cheek, his skin warm to the touch. “you can come whenever you want.”

✧˖°. — KENTO NANAMI (episode 3)

"you're doing so good, baby," his voice was smooth, deep in that way that makes you just melt into him, makes you do anything he said. though he would never take advantage of that. nanami was far too sweet and caring — too soft. but that doesn't mean he couldn’t treat you the way you deserve. he knew exactly what you need.

laying down on the bed, stripped down completely as nanami pressed two of his fingers deep inside your pussy, curling them just right to make you whine. he was still dressed in his work clothes, jacket discarded and tie loosened, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, biceps flexing in the tight material. he didn't want to waste any time.

"k-kento," you gasped, your hands gripping at the sheets underneath you, knuckles turning white as you try your best to stay still. it's impossible, though, your body squirming and hips rising when his thumb brushed over your swollen clit.

"i know, darling," his fingers resumed to simply pumping in and out of you, a lazy rhythm that allowed you to suck in a shaky breath. "but you can handle it, can't you?"

it's not much of a question. he knew your body so well, like the back of his own hand, like it's an extension of his own flesh and bones. nanami knows when you hit your limit even if you don't — and he knows when he can push further.

you nodded your head regardless, biting your bottom lip to stifle any noises as he eased his other fingers, stretching you out even further. the slight discomfort was nothing you couldn't deal with, especially when he pressed against that spot and made more slick drip from your pussy.

“such a good girl for me, hm?” his fingers were so much bigger than your own, reaching further than you could. they were covered in your arousal, too, glistening and shining each time he pulled them out.

you could barely think, could barely do anything other than whine and cry, with the nearly pornographic sounds of his fingers fucking into you. you didn't even know you could get this wet.

“look at you, taking my fingers so well.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #yuji itadori #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori x you #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #kento nanami #kento nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #perce.doc #| ☆ | — jjkai #| ☆ | — sftc

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nudityandnerdery · 9 months

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[Image Description: A series of sixteen tweets by John Rogers @jonrog1 that say:

1) A moment at the Teamsters/UPS rally this morning clarified our current struggle with the studio CEO's (among other bosses). Teamsters got a lot of wins, but one of the main sticking points is the pay for the 65% of local UPS workers who are part-time …

2) If you read the SAG-AFTRA demands, a truly STUNNING amount of their points involve protecting background actors, and trying to improve conditions for the 87% of their union who makes less than $26,000 a year.

3) As WGA members know, this is not a strike for the showrunners. We're trying to fix the fact the the current younger generation of writers can't even afford housing and their pathway to advancement has been cut off.

4) Like … folks, I'm fine. There are maybe two proposals in there that affect me. I'm walking in 90% weather and losing over 50% of my income for the year because I want the younger writers to get what I got at this stage of their careers.

5) Our unions and the CEO's and various negotiators have a fundamental cognitive disconnect. Because CEO's types only succeed by FUCKING THEIR PEERS.

6) Zaslav, Iger , those types of execs, etc have never gone without so a fellow exec or a junior exec could thrive. A fellow exec failing is the moment to use your own leverage to advance past them, if not destroy them.

7) Part of it is the money but part of this, I think, is a genuine inability to grasp even the concepts of any labor action. Because it is always other-directed.

8) So many people treat capitalism as part of nature red in tooth and claw, but it's not. It's a human construct. There are different rules you can play by -- but not if you want to win.

9) The greatest gift capitalism ever granted was the ability to validate selfish behavior as a virtue because that's "just what's necessary, I don't make the rules!" (Look ma, it's reification!)

10) This is where I usually point out that Adam Smith wrote that you have to overpay workers to keep your labor force up, and you need to take into account the psychic damage of capitalism to the workers, and that admiring the rich is the greatest source of moral corruption …

11) But I'll stave off that diversion to just land with … this is a discontinuity of attitudes which I think was once breached by the fact that management USED to come from people who loved building their company or their trade, even if they eventually did management shit.

12) Now, even that thin thread of SYMPATHY (Adam Smith joke, get it? People?) is gone. The CEO's are working off a different scorecard, practically and morally. We're not just playing by wildly divergent rules, our lives and careers are DEFINED by those wildly divergent rules.

13) To them, we are IN FACT being "unreasonable", as our behavior does not make sense in their moral framework. They don't think they're being evil, they think they're playing by the actual rules, and we're nuts.

14) There's not great conclusion to this, other than to note that the bit about making writers homeless was described as "cruel but necessary" because they genuinely don't understand the meaning of cruel, because they are always on the other side of the power dynamic.

15) And if they're ever NOT on the top of the power dynamic, they're not suffering, they're dead. They are un-people in their own eyes.

16) These men are not irrational, but they are deranged. This isn't about money, it's about identity. And in a fight about identity … they will set billions on fire.

Because they can always get more money. But they'll never shed the stink of losing to their lessers."

end of image description]

#strike #sag aftra #wga strike #ups strike #john rogers #sag strike

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barbiedragon · 4 months

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'Til We're Twins Again

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x twin sister!reader (HOTD)

WC: 1.4k

12 Days of Smuff-Sunset/Sunrise & Orgasm Control

Warnings: Oral (m receiving), outdoor sex, mild D/s themes, knife play, creampie

After laying siege to King's Landing, the twins share an intimate moment. Part of the Castling Series

Screams filled the air, along with the tinge of metallic blood and burnt flesh. Adrenaline pulsed through your veins as Vhagar’s large wings sliced through the air. Your fingers dug into Aemond’s leather encased arms.

“Geptot elēnās, Vhagar (bank to the left),” you cried, directing her towards a marching hoard of loyal Green soldiers.

You did not command her often, but your bond with Aemond ran deep, so she listened. You remained silent as Aemond ordered her.

“Drakarys, Vhagar,” he hissed, and you felt the warmth of her dragonfire on your cheeks.

Caraxes loomed close by as Daemon released his vengeance. His nefarious laughter was crisp in the wind as he burnt members of the Kingsguard. Rhaenyra had secured the Red Keep with Syrax, and now the remaining defenses were the last to fall. You thought of the lives lost to this War. So much blood had been spilled, enough to drown Westeros. Your heart grew heavy at the thought of Helaena, your sweet sister who had succumbed to the sorrow and madness of her mind. Your grip tightened around Aemond’s arms as Vhagar flew over King’s Landing. Agnozing screams filled the streets as the siege ended—a bittersweet moment, you thought as you pressed your face into Aemond’s braid.

Vhagar landed in the Kingswood, the ground crunching beneath her talons. The reigns dropped from Aemond’s gloved hands before he dismantled then helped you from the saddle. You didn’t realize you were shaking until his hands gripped your upper arms to settle you. Vhagar emitted a soft huff before she lowered to the ground to nap. She had earned it.

“We’re safe, sister. Rhaenyra has her throne,” he whispered before his lips claimed yours.

His hands took hold of your hips, possessive and strong, as he pulled your body tightly against his. Your tongue explored the warm cavern of his mouth. Lust overtook you, and all you yearned for was him. To have him buried deep inside of you. You would never feel whole without him. Aemond pushed you back as he unbuttoned your riding coat, letting it fall into the dirt before sliding your breeches down your hips. One gloved hand slipped between your thighs, pressing to your mound hidden under your small clothes.

“Aemond,” you whined as heat and desire enveloped you.

He used the dagger at his waist to slice through the thin material until you stood bare before him. A small part of you hoped the blade would nick your skin, for him to lick the droplet of blood away, the same blood that flowed through his veins. You did not shy away; instead, you stood proudly with your arms at your side and a mischievous smirk on your face. You were his, and he could do what he wished with you. The heat pooling in your belly was enough to stave off the chill of impending dusk.

“On your knees, sister,” Aemond smirked, obediently you sank onto the soft earth before him. You did not need to be told what to do next as you simply unlaced his breeches to free his hard cock. Your thumb ran teasingly over the sheath of skin to arouse and reveal all of him to you before you wrapped your mouth around the glistening tip.

You drew him deep, cheeks hollowing as your nose brushed against his lower belly. The sparse silver curls tickled your nose. Aemond’s hand gripped your braid as he thrust his hips. Need pulsated between your legs, spurring you on, and you whimpered when you felt Aemond press the toe of his boot against your dripping cunt. You rutted against it like an animal while he fucked your mouth. It wasn’t long before you felt the warm drip of spend leak down your throat as you left your slick behind on his boot.

“My perfect little sister, my lovely, sweet wife. All mine,” he cooed as his thumb traced your swollen lip and brushed over the small nick from the wedding ceremony.

You nuzzled his tummy, at a loss for words but needing more of him. Yet you knew he needed time to recover, and you slowly stood, wrapping your naked body around his clothed one. He enveloped you in his arms, his hands stroking and kneading your soft skin. Your cheeks burned hot as he grasped your backside, leather-clad fingers digging into your tender flesh. You glanced up at the sky and noticed the sun was beginning to set. Red and orange began to overtake the vibrant blue and bathed the forest in a warm glow. You buried your face in Aemond’s chest, enjoying this soft moment with him—a brief respite of peace.

Once enough time had passed, you lowered to your knees again before turning to press onto all fours, presenting yourself to him like a bitch in heat.

“Take me, idañus (twin),” you begged, arching your back. You squeaked when he landed a sharp slap on your rump.

The soft rustling of clothing filled the air, and you moaned with delight as you felt his cock press against you. With his hands settled on your hips, he slowly slipped inside until you were stretched full of him. Your pearl throbbed at the familiar feeling. You were his. His hips found a steady pace as his flesh slapped against yours while your fingers sunk into the warm earth. Guttural moans spilled from your lips as your twin grunted with pleasure.

“All mine, idañus, all mine,” Aemond grunted.

You clenched around him as pressure built in your lower belly as the two of you fucked like wild animals in the Kingswood. It felt oddly fitting. Two dragons in the wild fulfilling a base need and giving in to primal instinct.

“Fill me, Aemond, make me swell with a babe,” you whined, rocking against him.

He held your hips tightly as he pounded you, making your body jerk with each powerful thrust.

“I’m going to fill you to the brim, dōnus idañus (sweet twin), But not yet. Wait for me to tell you when,” Aemond growled.

You whimpered, unsure if you could hold on but determined to wait for his command. He slipped out of you before quickly flipping you onto your back before filling you again. A wet squelch filled the air as he pressed tightly against you. His large hand, free from the leather gloves, cupped your cheek. His gaze met yours, thrusting in a steady, soothing rhythm. In turn, you cupped his cheek, your thumb tracing along the strap of his leather eye patch. In that moment, you were one. Your hand pressed to his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath your palm. You weren’t sure how long you would last, ready to give yourself to him.

“Let go,” he whispered, the silken tone of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Those words were all you needed to topple over into a sweet, powerful release as delicious pleasure burst through you. Bright stars danced behind your eyelids, and you thought fondly of how Daemon had always called you his little star. Aemond spilled inside you, his seed leaking down your thighs as he kept true to his promise to fill you to the brim while happy tears streamed down your cheeks. You loved him more than anything in this world apart from Naela. Aemond panted softly, remaining inside you until he grew soft. He gently wiped you clean using your tattered small clothes, then did the same to himself.

As the sun grew dimmer in the sky, Aemond spread the coats over the ground, his pale chest bathed in the ethereal glow of the sunset. He lay on top of them before gathering you into his arms, his nimble fingers undoing your braid to allow your silver waves to cascade down your bare back. You did the same to him before running your fingers through his silken stands. His nose pressed against yours, rubbing gently together as you curled around him.

As the sun finally set over King’s Landing and darkness overtook the Kingswood, you thought of new beginnings. The sun would rise on the morrow, and Rhaenyra would be Queen. You were married to the man you loved, and hopefully, the Gods would bless your union with many children. A new dawn loomed on the horizon, so you allowed yourself to close your eyes as you clung to Aemond and dreamed of the happy things to come.

#fae's writings #12 days of smuff #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #Aemond Targaryen x reader #Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond smut #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #castling series

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sweet-as-an-angel · 3 months

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House Husband! Simon who…

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Sexual Punishment (Consensual), Degrading, Edging, Simon Exhibiting Some Himbo Tendencies, Objectification of a Military Man, Implied Pegging, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Lets you take the stresses of your day out on him, riding him with such fervour that he’s left digging his heels into the mattress of your shared bed, gritting his teeth and trying not to let the coil in his stomach snap before you’ve gotten yourself off.

Secretly loves being berated, being called your “Stupid boy, only good for cooking and cleaning. Such a good husband for me.”

Loves when you spoil him with the lavish gifts you can afford with your high-paying job. “A reward for keeping the house so tidy while I’m away.” You say as you take the cologne bottle in your hand and pull the waistband of his boxers with the other, slipping the bottle past before letting the band snap against his skin. You make sure to give his ass a good smack on your way past, too.

Another symbol of your ownership of him to complement the wedding band you’ve bound him with.

He’ll bend himself backwards to please you, learning to cook anything that takes your fancy, giving you massages when you need them, using his height and strength to clean the house thoroughly, pulling out all the furniture and making sure the place is spotless.

Though, he’d never admit that he sometimes leaves certain things — laundry, dishes, whatever — unfinished so you’ll punish him when you come home.

Loves when you edge him, using him for your own pleasure while preventing him from feeling the fullest extent of his. He lives for the tears in your eyes when you cum for the third time, rocking yourself on his thick cock as he holds you by the hips, desperately trying not to rut into you and give you another reason to stave off his orgasm.

When you think he’s earned it, you’ll make sure he really feels it. Squeezing around him with such ferocity that has him seeing stars when he finally does unravel, thick ropes of cum shooting into you as his back arches, his low, strangled moans filling your home. He’ll pant heavily, trying to gather his bearings as you detach from him, thin strings of cum trying desperately to keep the two of you connected.

He shudders at the tone in your voice when you throw a towel and a pair of pants at him, telling him to clean himself up and go and make dinner.

“I expect it done within the hour. I’m starving.”

Needless to say, he considers burning it a little to incur your wrath once more. But he knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that that parcel you ordered the other day did look rather long. Thin, too. Almost dick-shaped.

He’s taken a peek. He knows he shouldn’t have, but now he knows he mustn’t – under any circumstances – get on the wrong side of your strap-on. Especially one so girthy and long; big enough to even wind Simon if when you slammed into him with it.

But that’s a punishment for another day.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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bits-and-babs · 10 months

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𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐒 – 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

↳ summary: miguel has an issue with the performance and comfortability of his suit. he feels he's found a suitable solution– but he can't tell you.

↳ pairing: pervy!miguel o'hara x f!reader

↳ content: 18+ MDNI. SMUT. pervy!miguel, sneaking into your home, panty stealing, miguel wears your panties, (m) masturbation, masturbating in your panties, a little dirty talk, imagines p in v sex with reader.

miguel masterlist ୨୧ main masterlist ୨୧ join taglist ୨୧ ask

Disgust coats Miguel's tongue in a kind of rancid film, his lashes fluttering closed as he tries to breathe through the turbulence of the unhinged thoughts that bounce in his skull. Of all the ideas he'd contemplated to make the suit a little easier to wear, this was by far the most demented.

The delicate, silky midnight fabric of your high-cut thong had sprung to mind late at night, sleep ebbing at the edges of his consciousness and poisoning his ethics. He'd noticed them the last time he saw you, the elasticated straps that framed your hips peeking over the denim waistband of your jeans when you bent over to collect some papers from his office floor. It's as though the image had imprinted itself on his brain's grey, swirling surface and seared into his retinas.

Friends, Miguel he had to remind himself consistently. You were his friend. Friends don't steal other friends' panties.

Frankly, this ridiculous plot had all come about thanks to the absurd skin-tight suit Miguel consistently afflicted himself with. His excuse for invading your privacy was aerodynamics. The smoother the outline of the suit, the quicker he'd swing from his webbing... Or so he told himself. It was a perfectly reasonable excuse, as far as his bias was concerned.

The temptation was intolerable. Of course, getting a thong was easy enough– Miguel could buy them from the mall with the excuse of wanting to see an imaginary girlfriend in them or order them online if it embarrassed him too much. But the debauched notion of wearing your panties, the kind you wore and smelt like you, drove him crazier than he could ever admit.

He hadn't been able to stave off the desire for very long. Some forty-eight hours later, Miguel found himself snatching the object of desire from your laundry basket, blanketed by the pitch blackness of the dead of night. Driven by this repulsive need, he'd retreated to his office almost as swiftly as he had entered your home, careful to conceal evidence of his presence. All items had been placed back neatly while Miguel scoured for your thong, and he'd pulled your bedroom window back to its original position, open just a crack.

Thoughts of your silhouette, framed only by the panties in his hand and their matching bra, had carried Miguel home. He'd been rock hard by the time he'd stumbled back into the office, practically ripping the lycra-like material from his body to slip the panties on.

So here he stood, spider-suit a crimson and midnight blue pool at his feet, naked in the mirror beside the panties that barely stretched across his ample hips. His thick, muscular thighs looked even wider when paired with the dainty lingerie and the dark trail of hair that sparsely scattered his lower abdomen looked far prettier when decorated like this.

Miguel's eyes slid over the silky fabric against his smooth, tanned skin. The silk canvas barely contained the base of his cock and his balls, straining over the ample flesh he'd managed to stuff into the already limited, thin cloth. The scalloped straps of the thongs dug into his hips, little diamonte hearts encrusted by the base of the chords– he hadn't noticed them until now, his cheeks warming as he studied them in the mirror.

The sheer mass of Miguel's frame was far too large for the undergarment, the elasticated waistband stretched across the shaft of his cock, so it rested against his stomach, erect. The ruddy tip of his swollen head leaked creamy pre-cum against his abdomen at the consistent pressure, throbbing weakly when Miguel passed his eyes over it.

"Hng-" he huffed a breath through his nostrils, the sound almost a wheeze. Fuck, he could smell you on them, the musky scent of your sex. Miguel can't contain the monster, his palm tracing over the outline of his cock. The fabric is stretched so thin against his dick that he can see it twitch, the engorged vein that extends across the arch of him evident in his reflection.

"D-Dios-" Miguel moans softly, watching precum drip from his swollen tip onto the dark fabric of your underwear. Running his thumb over the head of his cock, Miguel smears his spend over the velvety skin and watches the muscles of his abdomen spasm with the intense pleasure that spidered across his nerves.

"Oh fuck, pretty baby," he whispers, tracing the crescents arches of his nails over his clothed length, babbling to himself as he relishes your scent, imagining tasting you. "Want your pretty pussy on my face..."

Miguel's hand quickly grasps the mirror's frame, his knees threatening to collapse beneath the weight of his bliss. He's drooling precum now, steady dribbles leaking down into the elasticated waistband and trailing across his knuckles. Fuck fuck fuck– would you be as tight as your panties felt on him? Would you squeeze him like this?

Pushing his thumb beneath the seam of your thong, Miguel lifts the waist of the lingerie upwards. Shuddering breaths heaved from his ribcage, bracing as he lets the stretchy band slip from his digit.

It snaps back onto his pulsing cock with a 'crack', the stinging sensation from the impact rocking down the length of his spine as Miguel rubbed the flat of his palm across the flushed head. His jaw falls loose, vermillion irises rolling back into his skull.

"Hhah- fuuuckkk– gonna cum-" he choked out into the emptiness of his office, quickly snapping the fabric onto his length again. "Gonna fuckin' cum–"

Miguel's eyelids flutter, almost missing the lurch of his dick. Cum spurts from the tip, splattering across the reflective surface of the mirror, painting ribbons of creamy white across his bronzed skin. It seeps into the midnight blue of your panties, darker blotches oozing into the silk as he rocks his hips into his touch.

When his exceptional vision finally rights itself, Miguel notes the tearstains that streak down his cheeks, wetness clinging to the ebony eyelashes that frame his dilated pupils. He heaves a shuddering exhale, letting out a hoarse scoff at the rakish vision of himself, smeared in cum and wearing his friend's panties.

Despite the fizzling arousal that singed the edges of his nervous system, Miguel's mind continued to develop images of you. Forever unsatiated, it conjures the depiction of you sprawled across your bed with your cum stained panties balled up and stuffed in your mouth. Your jaw aching, eyebrows stitched together as Miguel's ludicrously thick cock sinks into your tight pussy. Would you tear up, back arching as you attempt to rock your hips further onto him despite the stretch?

Flopping into his desk chair, Miguel covers his eyes with his palm and feels his ravenous cock twitch under the soiled fabric once again. He was pretty confident he'd never return this thong now...

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goldenempyrean · 5 months

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Not Quite 'Just Fine'

« Advent Day 1: “I thought you were ‘just fine’?” »

« Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader »

« Notes: First advent fic of 2023! Let's go! :D »

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙〘 Advent 2023 Masterlist! 〙

“This sucks.” Came the quiet annoyed grumble of your girlfriend, who had been sitting with her knees tucked up to her chest, her head resting atop them.

Ross was currently on the warpath and had demanded the entire team be pulled into a meeting to lectured on why it was important they keep their operations within the strict protocols set by one of the many accords the government had put into place.

“He’ll be done soon.” You murmured in response as you reached underneath the table to rest your hand on her thigh, “You know how he is when he gets in a mood.”

You both knew all too well how Ross could get but you couldn’t help but feel especially bad for your girlfriend considering that she wasn’t exactly feeling 100% at the moment. The pair of you had only just gotten back from a joint 3 day long mission up in the chilly forests of Siberia. Everything had gone great and smoothly… well except for that fact Natasha had insisted on giving you her thick coat after finding out you’d forgotten yours.

Her thin suit had done little to stave off the harsh chill biting in the air and you’d noticed her shivering throughout the night - even after the pair of you had shared long warm shower together. But when you’d pulled another blanket over her asked if she was okay, Natasha had assured you she was fine.

But now you really weren’t so sure. As Ross continued his lecture, Natasha's shivers grew more pronounced, her tired eyes blinking heavily as she held up her head with her hands. You slipped your hand beneath her hoodie and discreetly rubbed her back - something you knew she aways liked when she was in need of a little extra loving - but you couldn’t help but bite back a sigh as you felt the warmth radiating from her.

She let out a soft, suppressed yawn, and you couldn't help but smile sympathetically.

"You look like you need some rest," you whispered, your hand still on her back. "Maybe we can convince Ross that we need to file a mission report or something. Slip away for a bit. I think we should get some medicine into you, bring that temperature of your’s down a little.”

“I don’t have a temperature.” Natasha sniffled faintly but nevertheless she still nodded. Just as you were about to propose your excuse, her body tensed, and she let out a series of quick, half-stifled sneezes into her hands, “Oh, gross…” She cringed in disgust.

"Great timing sweetheart," You mumbled with a chuckle, handing her a tissue from your pocket. "Let's get out of here. I'll take care of you, come on.”

Clearing your throat you stood up to address Ross, “Sir, if you’ll excuse us, there’s a lot of paperwork that needs catching up on which otherwise will end up on your desk, so, may we?”

The secretary seemed more than displeased at your interruption however when he rolled his eyes and nodded towards the door when Natasha curled into herself with a raspy sounding cough a few moments later.

You nodded back, before turning your attention back to your girlfriend who looked like she wanted to hide in her hoodie and never return. “Come on Natty.” You whispered, offering out a hand when she stood up and had to dizzily grab the table to stable her balance.

Walking down the corridor, you felt Natasha slip her arm around your waist she leaned on you for support .”I thought you were 'just fine'?" You teased, making her blush a little as she buried her head into your side.

She looked up and shot you a half-hearted glare, her voice hoarse, "Don't push it."

You chuckled, guiding her through the corridors, "Well, I did warn you to keep your coat, but no, you had to be the chivalrous girlfriend.”

Natasha snorted weakly, but the action caused her to splutter into a sharp cough making her whine in response, “Rub it in later, will you? I just want to get under some warm covers right now.”

Finally when you reached her room, she gave you a grateful smile, "Thanks for saving me from Ross though. I needed that.”

"Anytime, Agent Romanoff," you replied, helping her onto the bed, pulling the thick duvet over her and she snuggled down into the sheet, “Now, let's get you comfortable. I'll find some meds and we’ll cuddle up for the rest of the day.”

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips, "You're not too bad at this caring girlfriend sort of thing, y’know.”

You winked, "Years of practice. Now, rest up sweetheart and I'll be right back with that medicine."

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fanfic #sickfic #fluff #whump #comfort #marvel #mcu #natasha romanoff sickfic #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff comfort #empyrean's advent 2023

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naivegh0ul · 7 months

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older!ghost sneaks into ur house ❤

This is wrong. Shameful. Ghost should not be here. If you found out, you'd never speak to him again, never even breathe in his direction. But, here he was, sneaking his way into your house, creeping up the stairs and into your bedroom.

There you were, sleeping so peacefully on your bed, your hair a mess, the sheets slipping off your perfect body. Wow. Ghost shuffled carefully over to you, leaning over your sleeping form.

Shamefully, Ghost slid a hand into his shorts, pulling out his sensitive and leaking cock. He stroked himself slowly, his eyes tracing your face, your body, the sliver of skin poking out beneath your thin tank-top.

He inhaled sharply when he looked further down and saw that the blanket had slipped past your hips, revealing a bit of your plush thighs and the fact that you're only wearing a skimpy pair of panties.

Ghost had to grip the base of his cock tightly to stave off his orgasm, the sight of you just so tempting. His brown eyes stayed locked onto the thin fabric covering your core, his hand tugging on his cock.

He carefully reached out with his other hand, pausing in the air as he contemplated whether he should touch you or not. His fingers brushed your cheek and he shivered, his eyes fluttering shut as his other hand sped up its strokes.

As he did this, you seemed to stir for a moment, mumbling incoherently. Ghost quickly pulled his hand away from your face but didn't stop his strokes. He continued to pleasure himself as you squirmed around in bed, trying to get comfortable.

In the process, more of the blanket fell off of your body, and Ghost watched as you flipped onto your stomach, hiking one leg up higher than the other. Ghost peered between your legs and saw that the panties you're wearing are crotchless.

His legs shook as he came, the sight of your pretty pussy exposed like that pushing him over the edge. Ghost tried to catch his cum with a napkin he brought, but he didn't manage to get it all. A few streaks of his sticky cum hit your face, covering your lips and the bridge of your nose.

Ghost quickly tucked himself away, but before he left, he bravely lent down and kissed your forehead, exiting the room swiftly after that. And if you wake up with dried cum on your face, your bedroom smelling like Ghost's distinct cologne, well, that's none of his business.

#older!ghost #fem reader #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost smut

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euphoricfilter · 6 months

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.　 . • ☆ . ° .• ° kinktober day 9

[day nine: watersports]

pairing: taehyung x f. reader

tags/ warnings: pwp, watersports (pee), cumming untouched, literally wet and messy

notes: i know this isn’t for everyone so if you don’t like it don’t read it please!! also never written for this kink before so feedback is more than welcome!! :D

kinktober masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

“Just one more” Taehyung pushes the glass of water closer to you, eyes wide in that innocent sort of way that has your heart constricting in your chest.

You frown at him, hand ghosting over your bladder.

“So full already” you murmur, legs crossed. Desperation slowly clawing down your body, any more water and you think you might burst.

“One more, my love… please” his hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your jaw. His eyes flicker down to your lips, back up towards your eyes.

“One more” you nod, “no more after”

He hums, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against your lips, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. His hand skims over your stomach, cock twitching in his underwear at the prospect of what was going to happen within the next couple of minutes.

He pulls away from you, hand slipping over his erection, lithe fingers squeezing his cock; head tipping against the back of the couch as you pick up the glass.

Your eyes don’t train away from his hand that staves of his throbbing cock as you down the glass of water. Cunt starting to slick up at the sight of your boyfriend, already so lost his lust filled haze you’re not sure how long he’ll last.

He peeks an eye open at you when he hears the glass thump against the table, hand slipping between your own as he tugs you off the couch.

You whine, water jostling inside of you, pussy clenching as to not make a mess of yourself as he tugs you into the bedroom. Frantic as he yanks the door open of the bathroom, patience wearing extremely thin.

His pulls his shirt over his head, underwear soon kicked off, left and forgotten on the bathroom floor as he turns to you—cock straining against his stomach, tip a rugged looking red, so desperate for release you make quick work of pull your shirt over your head. Thrown somewhere along with Taehyung’s clothes.

He helps you tug your shorts down your legs, likely aware that it wouldn’t fare well for the both of you if you bent down while so desperate. He presses a kiss over the little bow on your panties, teasing fingers pressing over the wet crotch of your underwear, thumb brushing over your desperate little clit before his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties.

He tugs them down your legs, lips like a magnet with your skin; another kiss pressed over your mound.

“Please” your fingers slip into his hair, thighs quivering as his tongue laves over your clit.

“Fuck Taehyung—” you have to take a step backwards, pussy clenching in need, though your bladder isn’t as appreciative, incessant want to let go dissipating over your stomach, “No more, I can’t hold on much longer”

He hums, fingers pressing through your wet folds once more before he’s pushing himself up off the floor.

He takes your hand, pushing the shower door open. The both of you cramping inside as he turns it on, angling the showerhead towards the wall. Letting the stream of water splash against the tiled floor.

He slides down the wall, knees bend wide as he helps you straddle him, clenching pussy hovering over his cock. His happy trail shines a little with his precum, his head knocking against the wall.

His hand wraps around his cock, pulling it away from his stomach as your fingers part your pussy lips. Teasing over your clit, thighs shaking as you hold yourself up over the tip of his cock.

He accidently knocks his cockhead against your cunt, string of arousal connecting the both of you when you push yourself to stand a little higher on your knees.

“Come on baby, give it to me” he groans, eyes slipping open to watch your fingers press over your sodden pussy.

“Yeah?” you murmur, another dribble of slick falling onto his cock.

“Yeah” he hums, “make me all wet and messy. Look so pretty when you piss yourself all over me”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you stare down at him.

You moan when you start to let go, mouth hanging open as he angles his cock to sit right under the stream. The relief is instant, hand bracing on his shoulder as the other one splays over your mound.

His skin glistens with it, Taehyung groaning as he feels your wet, warm, relief coat his skin. Slipping down his cock and joining the stream of the shower on the floor.

You barely catch it as it happens, your bladder only half empty when he shoots his release over his stomach. Cum painting his stomach, slipping down his legs. Mess of you and him coating his honeyed skin.

One of his hands fall to hold your thigh, fingers dipping into your skin as your piss starts to come out in little spurts. He presses his slowly softening cock over your clit, smearing the smallest bit of his cum over your wet cunt.

“Can’t believe you came untouched” you whisper, fingers wrapping around his cock, pressing it over your entrance.

“Told you, you look pretty pissing all over me” he presses a kiss to your bare chest, fingers ghosting over your nipples, “gotta make you cum too, hmmm? Pretty?”

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