#....finger tips are in a mouth and head cradled but-

[mojogojocasahouse]

unexpected visitor

jiyan x f!reader

Jiyan sneaks home to your bed in desperate need of a soft touch and sleep

c: NSFW 18+ only, smut, oral f-receiving, creampie, tacet marks are sensitive I don't make the rules, not beta'd

He slips in like a whisper, an unexpected secret cradled by the black of night. At first, you mistake him for the rustling of a rabbit outside the window and a burst of wind swirling beneath the clear moon, but then there was the clanking of metal buckles and the rustling of heavy robes falling to the floor. There was only one source of those sounds.

Jiyan.

Two weeks had passed since he’d left, and according to him, he was supposed to have been gone for much longer. Now, the mattress is dipping as he falls into bed behind you, a strong, warm arm circling your middle and pulling you flush against a broad, muscled chest, lips pressing to the curve of your neck.

“You’re home early,” you whisper, reaching back and threading your fingers through long, teal hair.

“Only for tonight,” he sighs, nuzzling his nose to the hollow behind your ear, “No one knows I’m away. I’ll have to leave before first light.”

“And what will you tell them?” you ask with a mischievous lilt.

“That I needed to sleep.”

Those words have you turning, his piercing gold eyes meeting yours and pleading for what only you can give him. He’s always said he can only sleep here, in the sanctuary of your bed. He doesn’t even have a home of his own anymore, it’s a tent on the front lines or this small cottage in the village. He has little in the way of belongings, but he leaves hints of himself around that you find and smile fondly at. Though nothing compares to the sight of him basking in white light, gazing at you as if you hung those very stars in the sky.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you soothe, brushing his bangs from his eyes. You already know the answer, but still, you ask every time in case he changes his mind.

“No.” It’s a polite but curt response, “You need not hear of the troubles of war.”

“But you’re troubles–”

“Are mine to bear.”

That will be the end of that discussion, as it always is. With a sigh, you cup the back of his head and pull him in, his lips so gentle and cautious as you welcome him home even if it is only for a moment. It’s your tongue that asks for entrance first, sliding along his bottom lip slowly, and he opens with a sigh. Large hands pull you in closer, your leg winding around his waist and you can feel his erection pressing against your thinly clothed slit. He’s opted to sleep with nothing on, as usual, and you curse the thin shorts you’d decided to wear. The grip he has on your side is hard enough to bruise, and you hope he has every intention of making sure you feel him tomorrow when you wake up in the bed alone almost as if he’d never come. Like this was all a fever dream. You’re still not sure if it is.

The tips of your fingers gently trace the Tacet Mark on his upper spine, his breath hitching as he flips you to your back. He kisses you like a man starved, nipping and licking into your mouth with greed and gluttony, his hips pulsing into your damp center as he slowly begins to lose that steadfast composure he holds so dear. You want him to lose it, too. He deserves to take for once, and you’ll let him bleed you dry.

As your teeth bite down onto his lower lip, he groans, taking one last parting peck before sliding down your body. The shirt you’re wearing is torn down the middle, and he latches onto one of your stiffened buds, his hands moving to cradle your other breast as if he hasn’t touched anything soft in weeks. His touch is so reverent and desperate that you’re whimpering as his tongue swirls and lips purse, your hands tangled in his locks as he descends lower, pecking a trail down your stomach until he’s pulling your shorts and panties off in one quick tug. 

Mingling moans echo off the walls as he locks onto your clit, your back arching off the bed as he suckles hard, worrying it between his lips before lapping at your soaked slit. You know you’re soaked, your inner thighs wet with what has already leaked free, and he takes it upon himself to not miss a single drop. As he’s tasting the sweetness sticking to your legs, you spread them further, inviting him back to bury his tongue in your cunt. And he does, happily, pulling you so tightly down onto his face you’re not sure he can breathe.

Muffled grunts and hums of bliss rumble deep in his throat, the vibration enough to have you keening in his hold. His talented mouth alternates between teasing your swollen bundle of nerves and enjoying the nectars of his labor, his face smeared and glistening every time he comes up for air. You want more, but you don’t dare stop him. If this is what he needs, this is what he can have, all you can do is scrape your nails soothingly against his scalp and try to quiet the roiling storm building in your belly. 

He’s waiting for you to come, you know that, but still, you try and stop the balloon threatening to burst. The sooner this is the over the sooner he’s gone again. And while you feign bravery and understanding of his long, frequent absences, deep down it breaks you every day to walk around town and see the couples together doing mundane tasks. They’re shopping, enjoying a meal, laughing and walking, and you’re…alone. You sacrifice the one you love so they can have this life, and while you’ve come to peace with this, no part of you has convinced you that you have to like it.

When he adds a finger, then two, you’re pulling his mouth back to your core by his hair, his smile stretched across your skin as the tip of his tongue prods so skillfully.

“That’s it,” he praises, “That’s what I want. Let me have it, baby.”

All he ever has to do is ask. Your orgasm washes over you gently like the waves on the shore, nowhere near as explosive as you’d been expecting, but you assume that was his intention. He knew you well enough to have discovered which of his ministrations caused which reaction and now he was almost tactile. It’s a little unfair.

No time is wasted, you’ve barely registered the end of your descent into the clouds and you can feel the soft head of his cock pushing into your cunt, your slippery walls giving no resistance as he bottoms out. He gives you a moment to adjust, taking advantage of your parted, panting lips to drag you into a messy kiss you can taste yourself on. You’ve missed the way he feels stuffed inside of you, bullying its way into a space too tight to accommodate his length and girth, but the burn subsides quickly and you let him know with a quick roll of your hips to urge him on.

The course hairs at his base are already soaked with your arousal as he begins to snap his hips into yours, the sound of skin slapping and breathy moans like a forbidden song drifting off into the night. His forehead is pressed to yours, the only air you can breathe is each other’s, and he entwines his fingers with yours and pins your hands to either side of your head, opening you up to his new, brutal pace. He can’t help himself, he’s long gone, drowning in the way your pussy clamps down around him every time he lets a whine slip out. You’d think he’d have learned by now and let his blissed sounds free, but he hasn’t. Maybe he never will.

“Jiyan,” you mewl, gripping him so tightly your knuckles turn white, “harder.”

It’s like something snaps, with a groan, he pushes himself up to sit on his knees, his hands claiming your waist as his hips begin to piston so hard his hold is the only thing keeping you in place. Your tits bouncing wildly hold his gaze as you cry out loud enough for anyone in the surrounding area to hear.

“Touch yourself,” he commands, regret in his voice because he can’t do it himself, “Come on my cock.”

Your two middle fingers dive to rub frantic circles on your clit, but you’re unable to focus as you dip your touch down to feel where he’s mercilessly thrusting into your hole. You can feel how stretched you are, how swollen, you’re moments away from release.

“Come with me,” you beg, your nails scraping down the firm dips and swells of his stomach, “Come with me, please.”

He looks wrecked as he lets himself lose control. His head falls back, his hair splaying across his shoulders, long enough to have the ends dancing over your skin. The way he glistens with sweat makes him look damn near ethereal, with green markings accentuating his clenched jaw as he tries to draw out what he knows is coming to an end. 

The molten pleasure boiling in your belly finally spills over, running through your veins until every muscle is tensed in anticipation and then released with a shrieking cry, his feral snarl joining you as he spurts hot, thick ropes of cum into your cunt. 

It’s a moment of stillness as you both catch your breath, his grip loosening as he fucks his seed deeper, enjoying how easily his softening cock slips through your channel. You’re so sensitive it almost hurts, but you’re not ready to lose the weight and stretch of him inside of you just yet.

“You need to sleep, my love,” you coo as he pulls out, immediately walking off to get a warm cloth to clean you with.

“Mm,” he hums, wiping what’s leaking from your fucked out hole, “In a moment.”

When he curls up behind you, there’s no stopping how you turn and bury yourself in his chest. It’ll be harder this way when he has to leave, but you haven’t heard the steady beating of his heart in too long. He chuckles as he wraps you up tightly, tucking your head beneath his chin, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your bruised hip. 

It’ll be just a few hours, and as much as you want to stay awake and relish in this rare time, you can’t. Sleep finds you easily swaddled in his arms, the faint arid, earthy smell of him the most comforting scent. When you wake, you’re alone, not that you expected anything different. However, one thing that wasn’t there the night before catches your eye–a single Pecok flower in a vase.

A promise to return home.

[starshipsofstarlord]

daryl + mouth spitting (reverse)

warnings. smut, unprotected sex, mouth spitting, saliva exchanging, oral sex (male receiving), mentions of punishment, dom!reader, sub!daryl

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

Daryl always had his way with you, and now it was your turn to have him at your mercy. At first you had almost been apprehensive of how your man would respond to your dominant hand, however seeing him dazed and in a wild state of submissive ecstasy affirmed you with no regrets. He was beautiful in all of his pleasurable glory, cheeks flushed with a toned hue of red and nose scrunched as your lips were wrapped expertly around his cock.

His large and harmful hands grabbed uncontrollably at the sheets that surrounded him, all to aware that he could not touch you without your permission. He was tugging at the material, releasing his frustrations out on the bedspread as your head bobbed up and down his length, tongue flicking around to scrape against his sensitive tip. A chortled moan dragged out from his throat, the sound bouncing off of the walls of your bedroom and shooting directly in your ears.

You had never thought that you would hear Daryl mewl, but he did so as you released his heavy cock from your lips, tending to him with your hand that stroked him gently. "Aw, did you not want me to stop baby?" With desperation he crazily shook his head, making his hair messier and his face warmer with colour. His hips bucked up into your grip, attempting to get himself off with nothing more than your hand, however you smirked, letting go of him all together, cocking your head at his teary expression.

"Do somethin' girl." Without any hesitation he gripped your hair, trying to force you to go back down on him with his hands, having had a sudden surge of confidence. And although you enjoyed having his length stuffed down your throat a hell of a lot, you managed to weave away from his force, shoving him back down until he was flat against the clothed mattress. “Y/n, that’s not fair..” The hunter whined, throwing his fist against your bed in despair, his nose crinkled in resilience of being naked from your touch.

“Life’s not fair Dixon.” You huffed in return, having had enough of his bratty attitude. This was obviously what he had to put up with when your roles were reversed, and you could see why he had the tendency to punish you when he saw fit. Your bottom lip found its home between your teeth as your mind flashed back to how his rough hand would smack against your ass, as you pretended not to enjoy the spankings that he dismissed upon your flesh. You slid up his body, teasingly resting your slick cunt over his leaking cock that was deprived of attention, poising a featherlight cupping that cradled his face with the palm of your hand.

Something flickered behind his orbs as he stared defiantly up at you, it was as though he was silently testing you, to see if you would proceed with the routine that he often took on. Dragging your thumb across his bottom lip, you spoke, your voice escaping you as a sultry whisper. "Open your mouth baby." He was eager to obey you, doing as you asked without any argument, needing anything from you. There was no uncertainty on your end either, he'd spat in your mouth plenty of times, and now that you had switched dynamic places, it felt as though there was one less void in your experimental side of your shared sex life.

Leaning down, you pursed your lips together so that only a string of saliva would drip from your mouth to his, falling directly onto his tongue. He hummed as he swallowed, before he scoffed, a belittling smirk settling onto his features. "Is that it?" You weren't sure what came over you, but his arrogance drove you insane, your pulse pounded in your ears as your fingers harshly gripped his face, leaving indents from your handling of him as you forced his mouth open again, spitting a sufficient amount more into the depths of his mouth. His head rolled around on the cushion that he was resting it on, his lids closing as he became satisfied from your reaction.

"I'm still not done with you Dixon." You stated, dragging your pussy over his cock before you grabbed at his erection, placing it at your entrance as you began sinking down. A loud moan was pushed from his chest, as his back arched off the bed so that he was closer to your nude form, hands running across your bare back before you smacked them away, and forced them against the mattress, using your grip on his wrists as leverage as you began to ride his thick cock. "Remember the rules D, unless you want a punishment." You threatened as he did so many times during such a sensual exchange, causing the man's eyes to blow wide and his lips to stutter in a tripping of apologies.

[elvensorceress]

wip wednesday

been tagged so many times recently and ily all 💕 life outside the Tumblr has been asjsfdhlkjklads 🫠 recently and idk that I will be around much but I have a little bit of fluffy Buddie cuteness for you. Still forever working on the Unless finale 🫠🫠 @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @tizniz @daffi-990 @suavecitodiaz @hoodie-buck @kitteneddiediaz @ronordmann @spotsandsocks @shortsighted-owl @lemonzestywrites @loserdiaz @diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend @thekristen999 @rainbow-nerdss @littlerosetrove @exhuastedpigeon @messyhairdiaz @smilingbuckley @bekkachaos 💕 to you all

It’s been a whole month. Buck wakes up and Eddie’s still tangled in his arms, and they’ve been together for a month. Four whole weeks. Buck has been able to kiss him and unabashedly love him and he gets to be Eddie’s partner in every way. 

The first thing Eddie does— because of course he woke up first— is prop himself on an elbow and run his fingers through Buck’s hair while smiling down at him. 

Every other thought, feeling, memory, piece of knowledge that has ever been in Buck’s head immediately goes out the window. The way Eddie looks at him, so soft and adoring with so much fondness, no one has ever looked at Buck this way. There are so many years of closeness and affection, so many moments where everything was falling apart but they held onto each other and made it through anyway despite all of it. Eddie looks at him, and Buck doesn’t just feel beautiful and wanted and needed. He knows he’s loved. He knows how deep it goes. He feels how unbreakable this bond is between them. 

When has love ever felt like this? 

Buck grins back at him, sure the look on his face is absolutely stupid with gooey fondness. “Hey, gorgeous.”

Eddie’s smile widens and he does that huff of a laugh thing that happens when he’s incredibly amused. “Hi, love.”

A rush of sugar pours through Buck's veins. They call each other all kinds of things, and Buck loves every one. They’re so— every name is bursts of joy that make his heart stronger, faster, fuller. He doesn’t know how to pick a favorite. But “love” is way up there. One of if not the best. 

Buck tips his head up toward Eddie. “Are you thinking about kissing me? Because I am thinking about you kissing me. I think you should. I really think you should. Since you’re so gorgeous and I’m your love and everything.”

Eddie laughs, actually laughs and it’s the sweetest most incredible sound ever, and then he cups Buck’s face with a large, warm palm and presses their mouths together. It’s not soft. It’s solid, intent, too eager to be controlled. “Happy one month, baby,” Eddie whispers before kissing him again and the bright rush of joy that captures Buck’s heart is too much to handle. 

“The happiest,” Buck grins and giggles like he’s far closer to Chris’ age than his own, like he could be a kid all over again, falling for someone for the first time and reliving every first he’s ever had because he’s never had firsts with so much love behind them. 

Eddie nods and then kisses Buck’s cheek and settles on top of him, tucking his face right against Buck’s. He runs a hand over Buck’s hair until he’s simply cradling him like Buck is precious. It doesn’t feel like anything else. Buck is precious and irreplaceable. Buck is wanted in so many ways. Not just for sex. Not because of what Eddie wants out of Buck. Eddie just loves him and wants him around, which sounds like such a simple, tiny thing, but since when does this happen? When does Buck ever get to feel like this? 

When has love ever been something Buck didn’t have to question? 

[inkformyblood]

never tastes so sweet (GhostSoap Mermay 2024)

Ghost x Soap, Mer! Soap, Scientist! Ghost; medical experimentation scene, established relationship. Lemon.

Something is hissing just beyond the broken edge of Johnny’s vision, mechanical in the back and forth tone of it, and he almost wishes that he would die so the noise would stop. There’s a dull throbbing ache at the nape of his skull, a matching pulsation along the swell of his forearm, and Johnny knows, without needing to look, that there will be a clotted hole where he had been injected with a sedative. 

The taste over his tongue, all discarded offal and the sterile swipe of antiseptic, would be enough to clue him in. 

Simon really has pulled out all the stops for this little fantasy of Johnny’s. 

Johnny chirps before he can catch himself, the vocalisation rumbling through his throat, his chest, the fin wedged between his back and the smooth glass of the tank trying to rise. Simon is entirely human, broad-shouldered with thick thighs that would propel him through the water if Johnny could ever coax him into swimming with him, so he wouldn’t understand the implication in the gesture Johnny cannot make at the moment. He would want to learn though, to set Johnny back to rights even with every muscle weighing him down like a diver’s belt and smooth Johnny’s fin out, his careful touch making sure every fold in the panels is exact. 

He cuts his teeth on another trilling vocalisation, forcing his eyes open as he swallows it back. Everything still tastes sour but the taste is slowly fading as he wakes. It does pull every mundane ache into sharp relief and Johnny groans as he stretches, rolling onto his belly and propping his chin onto his forearm. Outside his tank sits a lab, the walls bracketed by a row of counters in plain neutral colours. The walls are plain, windows stretched at a human’s standing eye level. There is a handprint on one, broad fingers splayed wide and Johnny knows, immediately, aching to touch, that it is Simon’s hand that left the mark. The lab is empty except for Johnny, the mystery hissing noise revealing itself to be a large filter attached to the tank, causing bubbles to spill over the top. 

If Simon isn’t coming to him, Johnny will just have to go and find him. 

Pressing his hands against the glass, Johnny pulls himself upwards. It is slower going than he would have expected, the remnants of the sedative still clinging like an oil spill in his veins, trailing lingering fingers over the spread of his chest as he breathes deeply, his arms aching by the time his head breaches the water. It smells sterile, lemon-scented clean, the same way that Simon smells when he drops onto the end of the pier, his shirt sleeves pushed up around his forearms and his palms dusted with ash. The air is cool, a shiver biting into the freshly exposed twitch of Johnny’s ears as he pushes himself up, hanging suspended in the air before he lets himself tip forward. 

The impact doesn’t hurt as much as he thinks it should. 

“I see I’ve picked a feisty one.” Simon’s gaze is cold above the dark fabric of his mouth, an indentation where his mouth should be but utterly featureless otherwise. He lifts Johnny up further in the cradle of his arms, one slung securely beneath Johnny’s fin and the other curved around the fin along his spine to press against his cheek. He pinches Johnny’s ear, bending it forwards so he can inspect the other side of it. “Number two-zero-seven-three-five-two-one.”

Just a sequence of numbers and it is so bitingly attractive. Johnny tugs against Simon’s hold, his tail flopping weakly against the other man’s thigh, and he goes nowhere, earning himself a twist to his ear in admonishment. The pain is dull, concentrated all the same, and Johnny expects it to end after a few seconds, his lesson begrudgingly learnt. 

It doesn’t. 

Johnny hisses, bares his teeth at Simon as he leans into the harsh hold, the continued twist of his ear until all he can hear is the blood rushing through his head, his vision consumed by pale blue eyes staring down at him. Observing him.

“Interesting,” Simon murmurs. He tips Johnny back into the tank, the warmer water a rush through his gills, over his bared teeth as Johnny rights himself. He covers his ear with one hand, searching for the open wound that must be there, pain radiating through his head in low pulses like a second heartbeat, heat bleeding through the rough pads of his fingers. There’s nothing. 

Simon turns to one of the desks, drawing out a dark blue notebook from one of the drawers. He checks his watch — a heavyset diver’s model that replaced the slimmer silver piece he used to wear before his visits to the pier became commonplace — and begins to write something. He doesn’t look up at Johnny, keeping his attention focused on the paper before him. A minute passes, then two. Johnny’s tail swishes against the empty base of the tank, trying to kick up sand so he could escape, old instincts rising to the surface. This is so much fun already. 

The pen clicks as Simon finishes his sentence and places it down. From this distance, Johnny has no hope of reading the words but it doesn’t matter as Simon begins to read his notes aloud, a fresh hunger cutting into the hollows between Johnny’s teeth, his belly growing warm. 

“Subject shows signs of discontent, initially attempting to escape the tank through a vertical escape. It was apprehended by scientist S. Riley and the identification number was confirmed. Subject responded reactively to a minor negative stimulus applied to it’s ear and was returned to the tank.” Simon turns, clasping his hands in the small of his back as he studies Johnny once more, his expression inscrutable, his stance making his chest press forward. He is framed by his lab coat, dark shirt beneath neat and pressed, his trousers similarly unremarkable except that Simon is wearing them.

Johnny had never been so fascinated by one individual before. Everything Simon does is notable because it is him doing them. He had suggested this scene, that Simon pretend to have captured him for experimentation while Johnny is however reluctant he felt like being, but this is far beyond his wildest imaginings. The identification number is likely false, not actually tattooed onto his ear, but it feels real. He bares his teeth up at Simon, keeping his belly flush with the bottom of the tank. 

He’s going to make Simon work for his data. 

“You’re only making this harder for yourself.” Simon’s voice is flat as if he’s addressing a piece of furniture in his way, an uncooperative machine that is taking too long to respond, and Johnny realises that that is what he is to Simon here and now. Johnny is a thing. An object. An inconvenient bullet point in Simon’s list of tasks. 

Johnny slides his hand down his torso, the slight curve of his belly, to the opening in his tail. Barely visible but he opens beneath his own touch, letting him press the pads of his fingers over the swell of muscle either side of his opening. His cock is soft, lying heavy and mostly concealed in his sheath, but Johnny stroked over it once, pulling the skin taught before releasing it. There’s electricity fizzing through his head, his breath coming in short bursts. He could call this off right here and now, scramble out of the tank and fuck Simon on the bleached-clean floor, mark up his coat with ink bled straight from the other man’s notes, Johnny’s unwieldy strength keeping them both stationary until they’re satisfied.

Needs some fucking patience.

Johnny chews his lower lip, works his teeth into the meat of his tongue when that doesn't work. Simon’s put effort into this, all because Johnny mentioned he’d like to try it. He won’t ruin all of this planning just cause he can’t hold out a little. He pulls his hand free, his fingers stained a faint pale blue and licks over them, tasting salt.

“Subject is displaying unknown behaviour,” Simon notates, his pen freshly picked up and scrawling across the notepad. “Additional research will be needed if this is due to the stress of capture and the negative stimulus.”

He places the notepad back down and turns away from the tank, from Johnny, picking something up from the drawer once again. Simon reaches down at his belt, his head bowed as he fumbles with something. Johnny creeps forwards, unable to make out anything past Simon’s bulk, pressing his nose against the cool glass of the tank. His touch smears, further clouding his vision, and he wriggles above the fog to keep his eyes on Simon. He almost wishes he hadn’t when Simon turns around, a recorder placed onto the desk behind him and a large noose on the end of a pole in his hands. 

Anticipation is almost as terrifying as the capture itself. 

The edge of the tank comes up to Simon’s chest, an uncomfortable angle for him to stand with his arms raised to catch Johnny with the pole, so he kicks a set of steps that Johnny hadn’t noticed previously over to the tank, locking them into place. He steps up onto them, staring down at Johnny curled on the floor of the tank. There’s something primal hissing at the base of Johnny’s skull, instinct digging claws into the furrows of his brain and tearing through soft flesh that doesn’t know what is happening. There is no cover for him to flee under, not enough space to manoeuvre by design, leaving fight as his only option. 

Simon tugs his mask down, a pre-arranged signal, and Johnny sits upright, curls his hands into his lap to tug at the webbing between the digits as he pays attention. 

“You good, Johnny?” Simon cocks his head to one side, trailing his fingers over the surface of the water. “Looking a little more spooked down there. Won’t be able to hold you properly with one of these if you fight me fully.”

Johnny pushes himself to the surface once more, lingering just beneath the pulled-taut tension of the water to snap at Simon’s fingers. He’d blunt his teeth over Simon’s calluses, tear his gums open by snapping the many bones in his hand for the sake of the marrow, kiss the remaining skin like it would make for every transgression in his life. Kissing the extended pads of Simon’s fingers is close enough and Johnny breaks through the water with Simon’s touch on his lip, his gaze focused utterly on Johnny. 

“Couldn’t break out the fancy tank for me, Si?” Johnny’s voice is a rasp, a blade drawn over a whetstone to try and hone it into a point. He coughs, dipping partially back beneath the water so he can push some water deliberately through his gills. It itches the same way a healing wound does, something natural but still horrifying all the same. He rises up to continue speaking, his voice clearer now. “I’m good, head’s a little foggy so I’m running on instinct first but I won’t fight you too much. Just a little tussle, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Simon pauses, his thumb working over a groove in the pole, his over hand still resting on the surface of the water near to Johnny, but not touching him. “Fuck, I love you.”

Johnny surges forward to kiss him, not caring about the water that splashes over the edge and onto the floor, onto Simon. His love tastes stale, old cigarette ash clinging to the seams of his gums, the edge of his lower lip rough beneath Johnny’s, but he still presses ever closer. It is only when Simon’s hands steady against Johnny’s shoulders, not merely holding him but lifting him, keeping him from sliding free of the tank entirely, that Johnny draws himself back. He balances on the edge of the tank, his earlier artificial exhaustion nearly a memory, only half of his tail still beneath the water in his haste to be closer to Simon. 

Simon’s eyes are wide, his pupils blown dark and his cheeks are stained the same shade as a sunrise bleeding across the water. The colour isn’t restricted to just his cheeks, flooding over the curve of his ears and leaking into the rough line of his neck, vanishing from sight beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. One of Johnny’s scales clings to the pout of his lower lip, another to the rough edge of the scar that stretches from one corner of his mouth, and Johnny reclaims them onto the pad of his finger, anointing Simon’s brow with them instead. They gleam beneath the harsh glare of the lights. 

“Love you,” Johnny murmurs, returning his hand heavily to the edge of the tank. It cuts into his palms as he shifts his weight, unwilling to sink back beneath the water until Simon knows it is the truth with every heartbeat. “Do you want to continue?”

“If you do.”

Johnny cracks himself open with a grin, would peel flesh and muscle from his bones to offer them to Simon, but he settles for lowering himself partially, leaning forward to kiss Simon again, brushing his mouth over the other man’s. He keeps his lips curved over the sharp jut of his teeth, unwilling to slice at Simon’s mouth and introduce another distraction. “Capture me, love.”

He sinks like a stone then, tearing himself away from Simon all at once, but it wouldn’t be an absence that would haunt him for long. Johnny lies flat along the bottom of the tank, first on his belly and then flips onto his back. It isn’t quite the same view as sunlight filtering through the water, a fisherman’s hook slowly making its way towards him, beautiful in its unobtrusive danger. No, this noose is crafted for Johnny alone. He scratches at the edge of his slit, his fin flaring out at the twist of pain and pleasure his rough touch causes. His cock is heavier inside the sheath, nearly sliding free, and his fingers come away bright with his slick. He hooks his fingers just inside his entrance, drawing it open as Simon looms over the top of the tank, pole in hand like a vengeful god, like Johnny’s vengeful god. 

The noose slips around his neck and Johnny fights it.

Not fully, not like he could, potential caught between his teeth like a mouthful of flesh, squirming through his veins to try and get him to struggle more. He could drown Simon, pull him enough that he would fall into the tank with Johnny and hold him down, swallow the final gasp of air that would rise from his lips. Johnny lets Simon pull him upright, his tail hitting an angry beat against the side of the tank. The sound echoes, deep and sonorous, a whale’s song seeking companionship, and Johnny snaps his teeth as Simon locks the pole into place along the top of the tank, keeping him stationary. 

He’s fully exposed now, the bright flash of his slit opening along his tail as his cock slides free, heavy and full. Johnny curls his hands over the line of the pole, tipping his hips towards Simon, presenting himself to the other man. He knows he is pretty to look at, all bright colours and attitude to back it up. Simon’s eyes are wide, dark as his gaze lowers to Johnny’s cock. He thumbs at the recorder on his belt, the fabric over his mouth moving as he speaks, but Johnny can’t make out the words over the rush of blood in his ears, the incessant need clawing at his belly. 

He wants to fuck Simon. Now. 

Simon looks like he feels the same way. 

“Gonna let me fuck you on your lab floor now, Si?” Johnny rasps, grinning at Simon wide enough to ache. “You just might soak through your neat white coat otherwise.”

Simon swallows, his gaze darting to Johnny’s face and then again to his cock. “Yeah, already am. We’ll do this again later, but I need you to fuck me now, Johnny.”

[freeuselandonorris]

💖landoscar

is a combination of kisses allowed?

thanks anon!! this is kind of a combination of all three but mainly the final two 😘

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

Oscar takes Lando back to his flat after Jimmy’z, because it’s there and he can. Lando’s already mouthing at his jaw as the elevator makes its slow ascent to the seventh floor. Oscar tips his head back against the mirrored sides and prays there’s no CCTV, makes a mental note to give the attendant a tip next time he sees him, just in case.

His hand slips on the unfamiliar keys, fumbling the sticky lock he’s not quite learned how to deal with yet. Lando, leaning heavily against his side, almost pitches straight through the door when he gets it open, catches himself with a gasp and a giggle. 

“Show me around then, Osc,” he says, voice lilting with alcohol and barely suppressed amusement. “Show me your bedroom.”

Oscar takes him by the wrist and bodily drags him down the hallway. 

The moving company had unpacked all the furniture, even hung his clothes up in his wardrobe and placed tasteful lamps and little dishes meant for trinkets Oscar doesn’t own on the bedside tables. There are still cardboard boxes scattered around, though, filled with helmets and underwear and the shoebox full of all his paddock passes he’s been keeping since the junior formulae like a lucky charm. Lando nearly trips over it in his haste to get to the belt, jolting in Oscar’s grip.

“Careful,” Oscar gets out, but Lando just laughs and hops on one foot, pitching face first onto the bed and rolling onto his back, kicking out his legs like he’s swimming and hooking Oscar behind the knees with surprising grace given how many vodka-sodas he’s had.

Oscar’s knees hit the bed and he ends up braced over Lando, hands either side of his head. 

Lando raises his head to meet him halfway, smiling into Oscar’s mouth as their lips meet. Oscar groans into his mouth, tasting vodka and gum. Lando’s hands come up to tangle in his hair, cradling his skull. No, that’s not the right word for it. He’s holding Oscar in place, wide palms spanning the whole back of Oscar’s head, pinkie fingers touching the nape of his neck. 

Oscar’s teeth scrape the slick skin of Lando’s bottom lip, making him cry out softly. Oscar swallows the noise down, licks over the dents his teeth have left and pushes his tongue into Lando’s mouth. Their bodies move against each other, Lando’s ankles still hooked behind his knees for purchase.

Lando makes another sound when Oscar pulls back to take a breath, balancing precariously on one forearm to wipe the sweat from his forehead and shove his hair back.

He stares down at Lando, who blinks up at him lazily. “Hi,” he says, just to see Lando smile. 

Lando grins, bottom lip caught between his teeth, worrying at the places Oscar’s teeth have sunk in. 

“Nice place,” he says, breath warm and alcoholic against Oscar’s face. It’s not unpleasant. He squirms a little, bouncing his hips. “Good bed. Springy. Wanna try it out?”

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

9 Days of Lancaster: Hidden Relationship

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I chased Ruby's bottom lip with hunger and she rolled her fingers through my hair. She giggled against my lips as I sighed in pleasure at the touch of her small hands.

I pinned her down against my unkempt bed with a vigor that made her roll her pelvis up at me and I growled.

"You rascal ." I broke off the kiss to look her in the eye but her gray gaze just seemed to say 'who, me?'

Yes you. If it wasn't you, then who?

I ran one frustrated hand under her body and along her back, pulling her close to me. I slid under her shirt and I bodily picked her up off the bed and held her against me as I devoured her lush, full lips with some savagery.

I touched the whole of her curved back with my arm and she heaved up into me with heavy breaths. Her skin just felt so fantastic against my own as I cradled the whole of her small form against my larger one. She let out another noise, one that made me feel like a demigod and she breathed out my name with a tiny mewl.

"Oh, Jaune..."

It left her pink lips like a prayer and I dove back upon them with my own.

It had been weeks since I'd held her so close. It had been weeks since we'd been able to share more than parting looks and careless touches. I could feel her want against my own in a steady rhythmic pulse which only sped up over time. She flushed as red like the tips of her hair as I chased her tongue around her mouth. Then she suddenly closed her lips and sucked on my tongue gently in a way that made my chest heave. It made me throb for her.

Our teeth met briefly and savory, softly clicking together when I deepened our kiss. She moaned, a low sound in her throat I wouldn't have thought the young woman capable of making. It only made me want to devour her flesh more. I kissed down her neck and over her jaw line until I arrived at the dimple in her collar and sucked against her supple skin.

So great was my hunger as I knelt between her legs that I nearly left behind hickies and marked her smooth flesh with my possessiveness. I had to remember not to mark her as she grabbed my face in her arms and moaned again. Gods I would do so fucking much just to hear her moan like that. That was why I did what I did. This is what I fought for. It nearly made the weeks of passing touches worth the wait just to hear her cry out quietly and writhe against the sheets.

Our auras merged and flared like touching candle flames and she hissed beneath me, clawing against my shirt, just searching for purchase. She rubbed against the massive scars the Scorpion had left along my chest and I moaned loudly, almost a deep grunt. Red mixed with gold and flickers of blue flame. Crimson petals drifted from the air around us as the heat of our moment intensified.

Her legs tried in vain to wrap around my waist but my frame was too wide to allow that. She gave a little noise of protest which was absolutely delicious as she failed to pull me even closer to her.

The door to the room burst open.

"Hey Jaune have you seen my- what the fuck!?"

I was hauled off of Ruby by pure main strength and was turned to face Yang. I saw her eyes flash red from violet. I met the heated glare with pure stupid apathy as I was brutishly shoved against a wall hard enough that my head cracked against it.

"Have you seen," she hissed, "My. Sister."

"Yeah,” I muttered duly. "She's around." My head cracked against the wall again painlessly. I felt slow, big, and dumb.

"Yang what the hell?!" Ruby shouted from where she sat up on the bed. Her fingers still deep in the sheets as she propped herself up.

"You were having sex!"

"I was super well aware!" Ruby huffed and blew her messy hair out from in front of her eyes. "Will you let him go, please?" Yang released me and I stepped back from the tan wall and away from one of the green plants which lined our Mistrali rental.

"Well. Explain, asshole," Yang demanded her hair burning in orange and yellow. Her enormous mane was inflamed from the heat of her anger.

"Yang I like him," Ruby spouted from behind her sister. "I should have told you, Jaune was helping me keep it a secret."

I nodded dumbly, still half cocked. Blood was flowing from other places back to my brain. I wasn't reacting swiftly to the situation and I wasn't sure there was much I could have said.

"Really? This dumb motherfucker?" Yang turned her gaze around at Ruby.

"Yang!" Ruby sat up straighter on the bed and dropped the sheets she'd still held clutched in those tiny hands. "I. Like. Him. And why not? He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel good. I like him. He always has my back and I love how much I trust him."

Yang staggered, looking at Ruby in disbelief. "How long?"

"A little before we picked up Qrow. Maybe a month." Ruby 'pffted' upwards blowing her hair out of her face again.

"This whole time?" Yang whipped back towards me. "This whole time you've been taking advantage of my sister?"

"I keep telling you it isn't like that!" Ruby protested.

"Then why sneak around about it?!"

Ruby gestured emphatically. "This! This is why, Yang." She turned her head sideways slightly. "I was trying to find the right time to tell you."

"And what? He was all too happy to go along with it?"

"Yes! He does whatever I ask him to do, he's like a big puppy. He's harmless."

"I just saw him murder a bunch of people. Calmly."

"We haven't had the chance to talk recently…" Ruby confessed, sounding meek for the first time. "But that's the job, Yang. Sometimes bad guys die. Roman Torchwhick died. You killed people too. That's the job sometimes. I knew that. You knew that."

"Yeah but I was busted up about it was the difference."

"Jaune was super messed up the first time he killed someone. You weren't there for it. You were back at Dad's. And Jaune had my back. When Tyrion came for me, to kidnap me and take me to Salem, Jaune was willing to die for me! He almost did die for me! How much more ideal and sweet a guy could I have found and you're still not happy with it? What was I supposed to do? No one was going to be good enough for me in your mind."

Yang's hair deflated. Her eyes flicked back to violet as something like shame took her over. If I was a betting man it wasn't over her outburst of anger, but rather over the fact she'd flinched.

"Jaune," I looked up at Ruby, still feeling dazed. "Would you give us the room? Please?"

I nodded along. "Sure. Of course." I walked past the crouching tiger I felt Yang represented within the room and shut the door behind me. I leaned back against it and wiped my hands across my eyes and sighed out loud.

"You got caught." It was Weiss. I couldn't muster up the heat of a glare. I felt too tired, bone deep tired. I met her icy blue eyes, her hair was down around her shoulders and not in its usual ponytail.

"Yeah. We 'got caught,'" I let out. I was leaning deeply against the door such that our eyes were level.

She flushed a little scarlet. "Just kissing or something more?"

"A little of column A and a little of column B."

"Well you're still…" she trailed off pointing downwards. She was only looking out of the corner of her eye with her head turned away, as if to give me a sense of modesty.

I was still half cocked, thank you Weiss. Super appreciative.

It wasn't her fault, though.

I exhaled, hard, and took a few deep breaths. I tried to slow my heart rate back down and get my anatomy under control.

"Yeah well you know," I managed. "It'll go away."

"Is that how it works?"

"Yeah. That's how it works," I spouted stiffly.

"You could have locked the door."

"The doors don't have locks," I said dry as ice. "We figured somebody would knock first."

"And that would have helped?"

"Maybe? Probably? I don't have a plan for everything!"

She snorted at me in a quiet 'ugly' laugh. Yuck it up, Weiss.

I leaned against the door and tried to forget Ruby's pulse between her legs. It was pretty difficult. I was intentionally avoiding the word 'hard' but 'twas also that.

"Seems to me this whole situation could have been avoided if you'd just talked to Yang."

"Wasn't my decision. I'm just the dumb boyfriend. Dumb boyfriends follow their smart girlfriends' orders. Especially where family is concerned."

"What about your family?"

"They'd be amazed I got this far."

"With a girl?"

"Just in general." I crossed my arms over my chest.

Weiss gave me a pleasant smile at that, the sort I would have killed for freshman year. It was warm around the edges, yet firm in the center. Blue eyes glowing softly in the morning light of Mistral. The deep dusk reds couldn't seem to touch Weiss's eyes.

"Coffee?" She asked. "Or were you going to avail yourself of a cold shower?"

"Ha. Ha." I pronounced my 'ha's. "I think I'm good on that shower." I felt confident enough to stand up straight and I followed her down stairs for some of the brown beverage.

Weiss evidently took her's dark. I watched her quietly make it, arms folded in the kitchen over my blue cotton shirt. She handed a cup to me and I guess she knew I was a pussy because she offered me cream and sugar. I availed myself of some; mixing the white with the brown. Just a little though. I wasn't Ruby. I heaved yet another sigh.

"So now the only one who doesn't know is Qrow." She blew over her drink.

"And Oscar, I guess." I cheered her when she offered her mug in my direction."Or Ozpin or whatever they are."

I took a sip and winced at the temperature.

"Careful, it is hot."

"I just about got that memo, thanks. One more just to make it sink in." I took another sip and winced. "Yep, still hot."

"Well don't do it again! You'll just hurt yourself."

I shrugged. "Pretty sure Yang would be on board with the concept of me suffering."

"Well let's not give her what she wants. I'll take it from you, you know. You have to be patient."

I blew over the top of the liquid distinctly impatiently.

"You're worse than Ruby sometimes." She was smiling, though.

"Yeah," I agreed. "How are you holding up after yesterday? Couldn't have been easy on the inside."

"Not sure if you heard or not but the Don picked me to be his escort for the night. He had some lines of hyper laid out on his bedside table, even. For the evening, I suppose. A man of indulgence."

"I hadn't," I prompted.

"I held him down with my semblance and made him talk. On the whole, I'd say I had the easiest job. Not like you boys outside."

"It got messy, I'm just glad none of you got hurt."

"How are you holding up with it?"

"Killing people, you mean?"

She nodded, leaning her head on one hand as she looked up at me from the table she'd taken a seat at.

"I'm alright at it. I think I might even be good at it. Killing people. It does get easier."

"How many?"

"I used to know, used to have a number. Went from one, to two, then five but... But now I've lost count. A bunch. A whole bunch of people."

"I'm sorry, Jaune."

"Sometimes it be like that,” I snapped my fingers and pointed off in the distance. She didn’t look distracted by my antics so I sighed. “It's what we signed up for."

"I haven't killed anyone, not yet. I probably will at some point, though. Seems inevitable, doesn't it?"

"Some poor sap without aura and then, bam." I nodded. "Even with aura you can't exactly tell how full they are sometimes so you just go right through."

"Gods."

"That's how my first one went. This bandit. I had my semblance and I just spent it and I cut him."

"You're unbelievably strong with your semblance active." Weiss nodded along like she could see it. "The point of Myrtenaster will probably be like that, especially if I have some speed behind me."

"Exactly." I took a sip, the coffee had finally cooled down enough that I could drink some. I almost found myself pounding the drink.

"Well, aren't we chipper?" She sighed.

"Just pragmatic. You didn’t actually tell me how you’re holding up.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No. You dodged it.”

“Did I now?” She teased with an upwards tilt of her chin. 

“You just said you figured you had the easiest job then you changed the subject. You should answer the question I asked you. Just so long as we’re both being completely honest with one another.”

“And are we?” She wondered.

“If we’re not, I want to take back everything I told you since you arrived in Mistral,” I blew on my coffee. She gave me a dainty laugh. “So, how are you holding up?” I pressed. 

“Not so great,” she confessed. “I’m not doing so great. But it wasn’t the absolute worst day of my life. So there’s that. I didn’t have to kill anyone which I’m thankful for. Just torture which I’m not sure is any better.”

“It’s not. Plus you had to wear those outfits.”

“Which you should admit you liked,” she fired right back. “It’s okay. I saw you stare at Ruby.” And you . It went unsaid but she saw me stare at her too. I couldn’t… I couldn’t really help myself. Her platinum hair went good with the black. And you know me. I’ve always thought that she was beautiful and talented and smart and a little queerly funny. So yeah. There was that.

“So what if I did? A bit of a nightmare if I ever asked Ruby to wear one. Besides she’s sexy enough in one of my shirts or her pajamas.” I sipped my coffee. 

“Is she really?”

“You ever see Ruby blush?” I asked. “It gets me out of bed in the morning.”

“Well, I suppose…”

“You see how Ren's holding up?"

"Nora got him out of the place early. She called it a 'not-date' and left. I think she killed somebody too. Just crushed their rib cage."

"Lords above," I sighed. "Just you, Ruby, and Oscar, now. I suppose, depending on how you wanna cut that Ozpin thing."

She took a long drink of coffee at that, deep in thought and staring out a window onto the little courtyard we trained in.

"So the only thing left to do is get Qrow back up and walking. Job's done."

"Aren't we taking some gang lord's word on that."

"Qrow thinks she'll honor it."

"She? Well, isn't that progressive?"

"I figure Malachite isn't so bad. She seemed to run things clean, or as clean as such things can be run, and Qrow has had past dealings with them."

"You've met some of them?"

"This pair of twins. Evidently they're Malachite's daughters. One in white and one in red. Huntresses, the both of them."

"One on white and one in red huh?" Yang was standing by the banister. "Well I think I know where I heard that name before now."

"We cool?" I asked.

"Yeah. We're cool. Sorry for blowing up on you."

"S'no biggie."

"Kinda. You were there for my sister when she needed you. Needed somebody and I… I wasn't."

"No one blames you for that," I said. "You were hurt."

"So were you, what with Pyrrha and all."

"S'no biggie. It affects us all differently. My motivations to keep going weren't all so pure."

"Join us, Yang," Weiss encouraged. "Coffee?"

"Thanks." She strode into the room. Weiss stood up to pour Yang a mug. "Nora and Ren?"

"Out," Weiss and I said together.

"Ruby?" Weiss asked.

Yang snorted and I heard some plumbing going. "Said she was going to take a cold shower. Thanks," She said, accepting the coffee from Weiss.

"We were discussing yesterday," I said. "What horrific thing happened to you?"

Yang snorted again. "I uh I killed two people."

"How'd that go?" I asked.

"Awful. After Weiss got chosen we started hearing screaming from the 'presidential suite.'" Yang quoted. "Not even the kind you could maybe think was ‘the dirty.’ That sorta kicked things off. I just reached out and killed a guy. Just crushed his head. I thought he'd have aura."

"And even if he did…" Weiss trailed.

"Right," Yang nodded. "I shot another guy with my gauntlet and Ruby and Nora took care of the other two guys. Then I ripped my way through the locked presidential suite door. Weiss already had things under control by then but…" She trailed off. "Well then we came down the stairs and saw the mess you and Ren had to deal with. Saw you kick that guy."

I nodded. I still remembered the way his head had felt under my boot.

"And the rest…" She gave a shuddering breath and lifted the coffee to her lips. "The rest is history."

"Miserable," Weiss said, shaking her head.

"Some guns went off. You saw the girls who got shot," Yang said. "Just waitresses or whatever."

I nodded.

"And that was my day. How was yours?" Yang asked, sipping coffee.

"Wasn't quite the worst day of my life," I said. "But it's up there. It does get easier."

"Jaune, and I mean this with all politeness, I really really don't want to hear that," Yang said. "It should be hard. It deserves to be hard. It's well… you know."

I nodded like I got it, which I did.

I heard the plumbing shut off and Ruby exiting one of the bathrooms. I just listened.

"So you and my lil' sis." Yang broached. "How'd that happen?"

"She kept saving my life."

Yang let out a low whistle. "Way she told it, it was the opposite."

"You know how modest Ruby is."

She nodded. "You knew about this kerfuffle, Weiss?"

Weiss nodded. "Ruby told me. She- well - she was happy to share it with somebody."

I could have flushed at that.

"And that somebody couldn't have been me." Yang agreed sullenly, Weiss and I shared a look but Yang seemed mostly disappointed in herself. "That day you were also covered in blood. You'd just killed somebody then, too."

Three. Killed three. I even knew two of their names. I just nodded. "Some dumbasses without aura. Needed some information and he and his friend tried to fight me. Over nothing was the worst part. He died for nothing. I mean I went and unlocked his aura but he was already nearly cut in half so I'm not sure if he lived or died. I'm counting it as a death, though."

"You keeping count?" Yang asked.

"Was. Stopped yesterday." I finished off my coffee.

"He says he lost count." Weiss stepped in and refilled my mug. Bless her. She said it like it was the worst thing that could happen to a person and to be fair it really sucked.

"Good gods." Yang sighed. "That'll happen to me too. One day I'll just be like 'was it ten or twelve. I can't remember.'"

"The fight was fast and had a lot of bodies yesterday. You might get lucky. Or unlucky. Whichever."

"Which is worse not knowing or knowing?" Yang laughed.

"Not knowing," I answered.

"You weren't supposed to answer that fast, Jaune." Weiss handed me my mug back.

"Ask me no questions…"

Ruby popped her head down. "Oh, you're…?"

"We 'aight." Yang answered.

"It's fine," I said.

"I have coffee here just for you Ruby." Weiss brushed some spilled coffee grounds into her hand and into the sink. Ruby came jostling down to us and accepted the cup.

Ruby came over and gave me a peck on the cheek. Yang rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Just get it out and done with now."

"Is that how you think it works?" Ruby asked.

"Oh just because you have a boyfriend now doesn't make you all knowledgeable."

"It might." Ruby responded but there was a quiver of laughter to her voice.

"Please share what it's like with us humble mortals," Weiss said. Ruby fell back and I caught her. I put an arm around her waist and held her close to me.

She leaned her head back against my chest and sighed. "It's nice. It's nice not having to hide it, either."

"Ugh." Yang rolled her eyes but she was smiling. I wasn't sure what they had talked about up there but something must have gotten through to Yang.

"Are Ren and Nora dating yet?" Weiss asked.

"Kinda. More than before but less than you'd think," I answered.

"Figures," Yang said.

"Hey kid," Qrow wheeled up. "What's uh, what's going on here?" He was looking at Ruby in my arms, looking relaxed.

"Jaune and Ruby are a thing." Yang answered. "Sorry you're the last to know."

"I could have guessed," he grunted. "Come on kid. Meeting with the Malachites."

"So just me then. Okay." Yang muttered.

"Will you be okay alone?" Ruby asked me.

I slammed back my coffee and nodded. I would be just fine, I think.

"I'm coming too." Ruby decided. No one argued with her.

[tothesolarium]

googling, how to make someone look wet without making it look....ya know

[cntloup]

18+ MDNI

imagine sitting on simon's lap, your back against his chest, your thighs kept wide open by his muscular ones

as he fucks your sweet little pussy with his thick fingers

while he has one hand on your jaw, making you watch in the mirror in front of you

and he makes you suck on his thumb, your moans and whimpers muffled by his thick digit

as two of his rough fingers slide in and out of your soaked puffy pussy

"look how beautiful you are lovie... so pretty f'me... all mine...right baby?" he murmurs into your ear

you hum and nod mindlessly, your head lost and dazed as he scissors his fingers, parting your aching walls repeatedly

"that's right... good girl" he praises

he pummels his calloused fingers inside you, stroking your sensitive pillowy walls

making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl

the sloshing sound of your slick walls being spread open by his thick digits repeatedly echo through the room

making his cock throb and grow unbearably harder by the second

until he can't take it anymore

he needs to be inside you, feel your warmth wrapped around him

you're so so desperately close, but the sudden loss of his fingers makes you whine loudly

"sorry baby..." he mumbles apologetically with a kiss on your nape as he replaces his fingers with his weeping cock

he lifts you up slightly to slide his fat leaking cock inside your needy pussy

there's the slight initial sting of the wide stretch that makes you gasp as you grip his knees for support

he cradles your body closer against his with his big burly arms, placing open-mouthed kisses on your neck and shoulder to soothe your pain

your lips fall open with a guttural moan at the achingly blissful sensation of his thick cock filling you up so good

and he practically growls as he bottoms out deep inside you, making him feel light-headed as your heat engulfs him

he grasp your hips bruisingly and bounces you up and down his girthy shaft, his broad chest heaving against your back

you bite your lip and squeeze his thighs tightly as he makes you see stars

his seeping tip stroking your spongy cervix each time he's buried to the hilt inside you

the reflection of your tight pretty pussy being split open, his fat cock disappearing in and out of you

so filthy and sinful, it makes your cunt pulsate and clench harder around him, desperate for release

he kneads at the soft flesh of your boobs with one hand as the other reaches around your body to rub circles on your puffy clit

stimulating your sensitive nub so deliciously as you swirl and wiggle your hips frantically on top of him

"come on... cum f'me baby..." he croons against your neck as he hits your sweet spot at the perfect angle repeatedly

a mix of your choked sob and his raspy roar drift through the air as you succumb to the streams of your razing orgasm, your pearly white cream glazing his cock

and with a final hard slam of his pulsating cock, his own high floods his senses and he releases his load inside your womb, thick warm cum oozing out of your swollen cunt

"fuck, baby!" he pants followed by a low chuckle

"yeah! that was fucking amazing!" you breathe out as he enfolds your trembling body in his strong arms

[ozarkthedog]

𝐊𝐍𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏

summary: joel fingers you for the first time in his truck.

warnings: 18+ mdni. joel miller x afab!reader. no physical descriptors of reader. fingering (pussy and ass). heavy ass play. Joel being a fucking menace. no beta. w.c: 823

author's note: had this thot for the last few days and had to write it out before i went insane but now i'm taking you all with meeee

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Joel's two knuckles deep in your cunt while an old country tune quietly floats from the radio into his dimly lit truck that's parked on the side of a dusty road. He languidly fucks his thick digits between your sopping folds, each thrust making your breath hitch more than the last. 

He's taking it slow, figuring out what spots make your cunt spasm and quiver for the very first time. It's a mess of limbs in the front seat; your skirt is rucked up your hips, legs bent at the knee, and he's holding you against his side, cradling your head in the crook of his arm.

"Righ' 'ere?" he grits, swallowing hard as you clamp around his fingers. 

You grab at his worn button-up, tightly fisting the material with a needy whine as a wave of pleasure burns deep, and he doubles his efforts with a twist of his wrist. "That's it. Come on, pretty girl, there you go."

Joel curls his fingers, seeking the fleshy spot behind your clit that makes you see stars and forces you to the edge listening with perverted delight to your frantic cries.

He leaves his fingers in your obscenely wet pussy just a bit longer, enjoying the feeling of your cunt convulsing from the aftershocks. He teases his soaked fingers along your slit when he withdraws them, toying with your folds and puffy, hairy outer lips before moving south.

A gasp catches in your throat as he cautiously circles your rosebud.

"Ever been touched 'ere?" Bright moonlight casts off his dark coffee-colored eyes as he searches your face for discomfort.

All you can muster is a broken "No," and he hums a deep rumble. It sounds like the beginning of a summer storm, and the ominous tone sets a blazing fire in your belly.

"s'ok if I keep goin'?" he asks, timidly looking down at you through his lashes. He shifts his hips, grinding his cock against your outer thigh. You mewl upon feeling his hard, throbbing length through his jeans.

You dumbly nod, and a sly grin tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Your mouth drops open, panting, as he slowly presses one thick digit into your ass. He curses at your tightness but keeps moving until his knuckles graze the soft globes of your cheeks. "S'fuckin' tight lil' ass you got there, sweetheart." He croons, nudging his nose along your jaw and tipping your head back before branding you with a searing kiss.

You moan wantonly as he licks into your mouth and starts slowly fucking you. "Tell me how it feels." He husks, breaking the kiss.

His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and nipping his way down to your clavicle as your mind searches for anything remotely resembling words.

A mess of mumbled moans and broken curses stumble from your lips into the small truck cabin. Your hips move on their own, wanting his finger deeper and faster, but he never breaks his steady stride. He chuckles against your skin. "This sweet rose wants more, huh? First time bein' touched, and she's already gettin' greedy."

He leans back, pinning his eyes on where he's stretching you open, and groans at the filthy sight of his syrupy, thick fingers stretching your small, shiny hole. He meets your wild doe eyes with a wolfish grin before pursing his lips and spitting.

The shock of his warm spittle landing on the rim of your sensitive hole makes your insides violently churn, and a yearning, brazen moan spills from your lips.

"Gotta make sure it's nice n' wet," he says while lining up a second finger, still piercing your gaze. "Don't wanna hurt 'er."  

He watches your face twist from the pressure as he slowly glides two sizeable fingers into your snug hole. "S'ok, you can take it," he calmly encourages, kissing the pinched skin between your brows. 

He raises his thumb up and over your pusling, weepy core, and plants the heavy pad on your clit. He suffocates the tiny button, earning himself a full-on quiver and high-pitched wail from your defenseless, blissed-out body. 

"Thatta girl. Feels good, don't it?" he grunts, thrusting his fingers deeper.

A solid buzz blossoms in your veins under his wicked touch. The dual action he's doling out with his insanely massive hand makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. So overcome with the depraved rapture, you can't help but give in to the delirium.  

"Can feel you loosenin' up. S'good girl," he coos, smiling down at you even though your eyes are crossed dumb from the sheer euphoria racing through your veins. 

"Pretty soon, she'll be stretched around my cock." he informs, hissing when he feels you tighten at his words. Your mouth falls open with a silent wail, and your spine bends like a bow ready to strike as he purrs sinfully in your ear. "Tha's righ'. Gonna make this sweet rose take every fuckin' inch."  

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

->reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated!<-

follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[djarincore]

TAGS: incubus!ghost, smut, dubcon, somnophilia, fingering, PIV

A/N: i had a hard time falling asleep the other night and between that weird state of feeling awake but also asleep i felt this weird sensation of someone touching me sooo... INCUBUS!GHOST banner: @/cafekitsune

this version is definitely sexier than unsettling lol

Slipping between the realm of reality and dream, you lay on your stomach in a half-awake state of grogginess and confusion.

There's a hand on your leg—and, it's slipping further and further up your thigh.

It's heavy against your skin. You feel the individual fingers curve around the meat of your thigh. Then another trails your waist and down your hip.

For a moment you feel like there are hands all over you, touching you, caressing you. A light, unrestrained moan slips past your lips.

The part of your brain that typically jumps into action, demanding for you to kick or scream, remains dormant. You’re too tired to care enough to open your eyes and face what will ultimately be nothing.

In its exhaustion, your brain is conjuring up phantom touches. That's all this is. It will go away and you'll finally be able to slip back into unconsciousness. Or maybe you were already asleep and dreaming.

You bury your face into your pillow and ignore the tricks your brain is playing on you.

But the hands remain persistent, slipping between your thighs, cupping your cunt. You tense as the hand slides your panties to the side, a thick finger drags down the seam of your slit.

“You awake?”

A gruff voice jolts you out of your daze. You turn yourself onto your back and come face to face with a phantom.

A large figure looms over you. His body hides the sliver of moonlight shining through your window, shrouding you and him in darkness. Though his body is that of a man, he isn't entirely human. His face, if you can even call it that, resembles a skull, hollow eyes stare down at you.

Your lips part, only to realize your mouth is dry, a scream barely forms. You attempt to scramble away from his hands, pushing yourself against the headboard.

“Ah, not so fast,” he grunts, gripping your hands and pulling you back flat against the bed. He pins your hands against your chest, squeezing when you wiggle against his grip. “I’m not nearly finished with you.”

Your tongue darts out to swipe across your lower lip. “What do you want?”

The entity doesn't respond right away. He's distracted by the bobbing of your throat as you try to swallow your fear. A hand reaches out to skim the skin along your neck, tracing up the column of your throat with his knuckles.

You hate that his touch is so gentle—so gentle it makes your legs clench. Your brows furrow as you try to push away the desire pooling in your belly as he touches you.

“Same as you,” he says. His hand moves to cradle your cheek, but you turn your head, making him grab your jaw and face him once more.

He leans in close. You see nothing but darkness beyond the holes in his skull mask; the lower half of his face is simply shadow. “Need a good fuckin’. So, lay still and let me work.”

As you breathe him in, smoke and musk, your eyes feel heavy. It's almost pleasant to be stuck in this state, just on the edge of unconsciousness. Your thoughts are a haze, limbs relaxed and limp, pliant beneath him.

“That's right, just give in to it,” he coos, releasing your jaw and wrists. He slides your T-shirt up to reveal your breasts, running his thumb over your pert nipples. “I’ll make you feel good.”

Your mouth falls open when he grinds his hard cock against you. Your chest heaves, but you can't do much against him besides lay vulnerable as he touches you.

He slips a hand back into your underwear, rubbing slow circles against your clit, chuckling when your hips twitch. A finger pets your slit, gathering your wetness along the tip and guiding it back to your clit. He works you up until your legs tremble around him and then pushes two thick fingers into your tight hole. He moves slowly, fingers working inside of you like a caress.

You're a whimpering mess and awfully tired. The more he builds your climax the heavier your eyes get. “I- ‘m gonna-” you muster, weakly clawing at your sheets.

He lowers himself to your cunt, letting his tongue join his fingers, lapping at your juices and moaning. He hums, something low and lulling, “Good girl, let go for me.”

You do as he commands, tightening around his fingers and coming on his hand. The rest of the world begins to fall away as you come down from your orgasm.

You wake to the wet sounds of him fucking you. His cock slides out of your dripping, sore cunt only to thrust back in, fitting snug in your tight walls. Your legs are pushed up, spread and open for him to fit between.

You don't know how long he's been in you or how long you’ve been passed out. “S-Stop,” you whine, hoping to get a break. Even though you assume you slept, you're still exhausted. You fear whatever this entity wants from you, once he has it, you'll never wake up again.

“No,” he grunts. His voice now takes on a heavy rasp, grating and no longer soothing. “Fuckin’ take it.”

“Please,” you whimper. It's pathetic, breathless but all you can seem to muster. “Don't kill me.”

He laughs and the sound echoes through you. He rubs your puffy clit, making you flinch from the sensitivity and clench around him.

“Oh, ‘m not killin’ you; I'm keepin’ you.”

[luvjunie]

— besos

pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader

a/n: this is my gif! it took so long to find this clip + make it into a gif so pls give credit if you use it lol

summary: your makeup leaves kiss imprints all over miles’ face and neck, which you quickly have to figure out how to hide from his mother. wc: 1,033

contains: fluff, teenage romance

word bank: “besos” - kisses, “enamorado” - lover boy, “mijo” - son, “dios mio” - my god

“Hold still…”

Your soft lips pressed testimonies of your love upon the surface of Miles’ smooth skin, your giggles of excitement muffled as you kissed his temple, the apple of his cheek, the tip of his nose, the corner of his lips— anywhere you could easily reach, really.

Steady hands cradled the dip of your back to keep you in your straddled position on his lap, gentle fingers ghosting over the fold of your waistband and one of his eyes pinched closed in preparation for more of your frenzied affection.

“Jeez, you love me love me, huh?” he laughed, his answer presented to him in the way your kisses began to trail along his jaw, then started further down the column of his neck, his pulse gently thrumming against your gloss-tinted lips as the pace of his heart quickened.

His tongue quickly swiped at his chapped lips and he allowed his eyes to fall closed with a light sigh, enjoying himself for just a moment, until the distant sound of pots clinking brought him back to where he really was, in his room, with his mother just a few paces outside, resulting in a gentle warning pat against the curve of your hip.

“Alright, alright, chill.” he chuckled breathily, slowly pulling away from you to lean back on his hands and take you in, drinking in the image of how cute you looked on his lap like this.

He didn’t need a mirror to see what his face looked like, the slightly shocked expression on yours as you covered your laugh with a hand was enough for him to go off of.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

You opened your mouth to speak, to tell him it wasn’t, to tell him that his face wasn’t lavished in the remnants of your brown lip gloss and liner— but you couldn’t. He was covered in them, prints of your lips garnished all over his handsome features. Your lips split apart and came back together like a fish out of water, so you simply settled for another stifled snicker and a head nod instead.

“You do know if my mom sees this on my face it’s our asses, right?” he reminded you, and as if on cue, you heard his mother’s voice project from outside, your spine standing straight, just like the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Mijo, food is ready, come eat!”

Stunned eyes locked onto Miles’ for a beat, just to see if they were as wide as yours, or if they held just as much panic— and they did. Without a word spoken you scrambled off his lap faster than you’d even gotten there in the first place, his mirroring of your movements almost causing him to tumble off the bed. The room was thrust into a discord of silenced chaos for a few panicked seconds, your body spinning in two aimless half-circles with disoriented, wafting hands; as if the ridiculous looking movement could actually assist your anxiety frazzled brain in coming up with a plan.

Miles ruffled his sheets, hands frantically splaying around to find anything that would be useful in this moment until a shirt came into your view— a hurried, whisper-shout of his name tearing from your throat to get his attention. You swiftly kicked it up from the floor with your foot, flinging it towards his face and watching as his hand shot out in front of him to catch it not even a second after you’d punted it.

The graphic t-shirt you’d found managed to scrub his face clean of the incriminating evidence, not that you had much time to check the success rate of that as you were rushed out of the room hastily, your boyfriend’s hands plastered against the lower-middle of your back to usher you out the room in large steps, your feet having to shuffle to keep up.

“Dios mio, mile—!“ his mother’s voice fell short when the two of you chaotically stumbled your way into the kitchen, your lips tucked into themselves as you stood at attention, hands politely clasped behind you, while Miles was off to the side, shoulder leaned against the adjacent wall, legs crossed and hands on his hips. Totally not suspicious.

“Oh,” she blinked, giving the two of you a quick once over. The first thing she noticed was her son’s unusual demeanor, his eyes big and brows raised high, an expression he only wore when he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to be. But what really gave it away was the strange distance of a few feet wedged between the both of you. Just over an hour ago you guys had embraced one another in a long hug after he’d opened the door to let you in—right in front of her— and now, you were suddenly acting as if you were scared to even be near each other, like you were nervous to breathe the same air in her presence.

“Mm,” she turned back towards the stove to turn the rice over in the pot, allowing the both of you to exhale a trembled breath of relief, one you realized came prematurely merely milliseconds after it left your lungs. “I think you may have missed one, enamorado.” (lover boy)

Eyes almost blowing from your skull, you swallowed hard and reluctantly shifted your head up towards your boyfriend, who was frozen in place, your gaze dropping down to the slightly smeared gloss and lip liner against the skin of his neck; a painfully visible reminder of your previous tryst.

The knowing smirk that pulled at the corner of his mother’s lips went overlooked, just as Miles let his chin fall to his chest, his arm folding over his torso and his opposite hand slapping over his abashed expression, a defeated sigh sounding from behind it.

“I’ll help you with the plates, mama rio.” you voiced your offer quietly and cleared your throat as you went to slip in beside her, which she obliged to with a light chuckle.

“Sure, sweetie.”

“I’m-“ Miles sighed, scratching the back of his neck timorously and scanning the area for an escape before a tentative finger pointed into the dining room. “I’m gonna go over there.” He decided with a swooped nod, long legs carrying him from a scolding he knew he would have to come back to once you were gone.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works onto any other sites!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

[dilfsfordinner]

a/n- this is how i cope with aot ending

pairing- husband gojo x wife!reader

—————————————————————————

“Satoru, I’m back!” you called out, feet quickly slipping and kicking your shoes at the front door, arms struggling to keep the 10 grocery bags you had balanced from smashing to the floor.

“‘m sorry it took so long-” shuffling to the kitchen, you continued to talk to the open space, assuming your husband was actually listening, “-traffic was terrible. I didn’t even think it could snow this early.”

Your words trailed off into little mumbles, talking to yourself about every irritant you’d encountered in the grocery store. It was strangely quiet in the house, the usual squeals of laughter and giddy conversations gone from the common routine, the oddity oblivious to you and your focused state.

Leaning back with your hands on your hips, you sighed in relief, muscles relaxing as you took in your good work, cabinets full and refrigerator stocked, the kitchen now completely organized to perfection. Humming contentedly, the previous relief you’d felt turned awry, smile disappearing from your lips.

It was so.. quiet. Too quiet.

“..Toru.?” for the first time in the last 20 minutes, it had finally clicked that something was off. A kiss and hug weren’t given to you at the door, the tv was off, there was no nighttime bath running for Megumi. Everything was so still and silent.

Padding throughout the house, you quickly checked every room, the empty spaces throwing your brain into panic mode, all your worries coming to mind as you looked for your husband and little boy.

After your thorough search, one room remained, the door of your shared bedroom just the slightest bit ajar.

You were about to call for him again when a familiar tuft of white hair caught your eye. Pushing into the room, you took in probably one of the cutest sights you’d ever seen.

There, curled up in bed, fetal position, was your 6’6” husband, his chest slowly rising and falling with the pattern of sleep. Almost laughing at yourself for being so worried, you inched closer to your side of the bed, about to join him under the covers.

A patch of black hair stopped you this time though, little Megumi hidden in the pool of blankets that surrounded him and your lover’s bodies. Stifling an ‘aww’, you fought off the urge to film the two of them, Megumi’s little fingers clutching onto Gojo’s shirt as the two of them snored.

His tiny form was nuzzled into Gojo’s side, chubby cheeks pushed against Satoru’s ribs, drool collecting at the corner of his mouth, staining your man’s new, black sleep shirt, a fact you ignored as you imagined Gojo’s melodramatics certain to occur.

Although they acted like yin and yang, the way Gojo cradled him was so sweet, you really had to fight off the waterworks. His large hands held the little boy securely, long fingers resting on Megumi’s back and head, keeping him close, protecting him, like a real father would for his son.

Leaning down, you brushed Satoru’s hair away from his forehead, leaving a gentle kiss to his porcelain skin, then continuing to do the same to little Megs, the young boy’s breath hitching, dark eyelashes fluttering before his quiet snores started back up, fingers curling even tighter around Gojo’s sweater.

Tip-toeing to the door, you looked back one more time, the two of them nestled perfectly in a sea of blankets. “My sweet boys..” you murmured to yourself, shaking your head with a smile as you turned out of the room, clicking the door shut, leaving your two favorite people to their much needed rest filled bonding time.

—————————————————————————

[ceruleancattail]

If reqs are still open could I get the basketball club boys with reader who likes to fall asleep/lay on their chest? Totally fine if not, thanks!

Ace, Jamil and Floyd with a s/o who likes to fall asleep on their chest

Ace x reader, Jamil x reader, Floyd x reader

Ace’s a stuttering mess.

A blush coating his cheeks, scarlet blooming on his skin. Vibrant flowers that spread to both his ears in turn. His mouth falls open, lips fumbling around desperately. Trying to form words, but the letters all fall off the tip of his tongue, emotions running free.

How could he even speak? There were no words in language to describe the pure bliss flowing through his veins. You, leaning against his chest. Hand clutching at his uniform loosely, mouth just ever so slightly open…

He’ll be stock still for a few moments, before a trembling hand reaches for your sleeping form. Gingerly wrapping his arm around you, a casual embrace. One he’ll explain off with a shrug and a laugh if anyone asked.

“They just took a nap right here. Crazy, right?”

Boyish bluster, typical of Ace. Yet no amount of his excuse could explain away the sappy smile playing on his lips whenever Ace looked at you.

If you wake up, the first thing you’ll see is Ace’s smirk, dripping with smugness. Arms tugging you back to his embrace, laughing all the way. He’ll ask if you had sweet dreams, jabbing your cheek playfully. Well, with the way you were drooling all over his chest, you had a great nap.

Isn’t Ace just the best pillow?

Feel free to come to him anytime, yeah?

Jamil sighs.

Honestly, couldn’t you find a better place to take a nap? He’ll chide you under his breath, words as soft as spring’s gentle breeze. Shaking his head, tutting his disapproval.

Of course, his arms are snaking around your torso, bringing you closer to him. For all his exasperation, Jamil just can’t find it in his heart to wake you. Not when you’re lying right in his chest, every breath coming out in little puffs. They waft against his skin, warmth lingering like feather light kisses.

Gently, he’ll lift you up. Placing you on his lap, head resting against his collarbone. Jamil’s hands rest on your back, palms flat against your skin. Moving in ceaseless circles, rubbing your back for the sake of having something to do.

He isn’t too used to staying idle for long.

Although he has to admit, a break like this isn’t too bad once in awhile. Especially if you’re here, all curled up against his. It isn’t too bad, feeling your warmth melt against his, heartbeats slowing until they beat in sync. Beat as one.

Even if you wake up, Jamil just might feign sleep. Head leaning into the crook of your shoulders, arms reluctant to let go of your torso. A faint pink tinging his cheeks, a soft little whisper slipping out of his lips.

A little longer, please, love.

Floyd has to stop himself from laughing.

You’re rather brave, aren’t you? Letting your guard down right in front of him like that. Dropping onto his chest, dozing away. Cheek pressing into his chest, soft like dough. Your eyelids squeezed shut, every breath wafting against Floyd’s skin. Like the gentle caress of the sea, lapping against the shore.

Aren’t you just the cutest little thing, shrimpy?

Floyd immediately wraps you in his arms, yanking you closer to him. Plopping you right on his lap, cradling you in his embrace. Maybe he’ll sneak in a squeeze or two, giving you a tight little hug. Anything to feel you closer to his body. To feel your warmth bleed into his skin. Almost the heat of a roaring fireplace, illuminating the depths of his heart.

He leans over you, engulfing you in his lanky frame. Wrapping around you protectively, a passionate embrace. He never takes his eyes off your sleeping form, finger poking at your nose teasingly. The way you scrunch it up is so fun to watch.

Floyd pokes and prods, chuckling at your unconscious reactions. Of course, he’ll never wake you. Not intentionally, anyways.

How could you blame him?

You look adorable in his arms.

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: prt 4 and the finale of the Mama Riley au! Thanks for all the support and nice comments. It means the world to me! No content warnings. Enjoy!!)

If the ground would swallow him whole, Simon would consider that a blessing. God, he never should've asked his mom about you. Of course she'd clock him. Who knows the man better than his own mom?

He stares blankly at you for far too long. Long enough that you're wondering if there was a chance Mama Riley had it all wrong. You open your mouth, ready to backtrack the statement, when Simon settles a hand on your thigh.

“I… yeah. It's true,” he answers you. He tells you it's fine if you don't feel the same. You were his mom's friend first, and he can see how deeply you care about her and vice versa. He wants his mom to be happy.

“What about what you want?” You ask, curious.

Simon's quiet for a moment, thinking. He wants to marry you, but that might be a bit much to admit right out the gate. So he gathers his nerves, and quietly admits, “I want to kiss you.”

You can't help but smile in response. You lean in a little closer to him, your eyes already half lidded. “I want you to kiss me,” you reply softly.

The kiss is a little awkward. It takes Simon a second to get comfortable in the kiss, but it's good once he does. (You find out later on that it's his second kiss.) His hands come to cradle your face, tipping your head back to deepen the kiss. That's when the kiss becomes perfect, the kind that makes your head spin.

You break away at the sound of the door opening. Simon's hands linger in your face for a moment longer, before he drops them back down to his sides. But you're quick to lace your fingers with his, more than eager to start displaying affection. You've been holding back for far too long.

Mama Riley smiles at the both of you, a coffee in hand. “You kids get your feelings worked out?” She teases.

You and Simon share a look, before responding simultaneously.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Yeah, Mum.”

Going to sleep that night is incredibly bittersweet. You two finally made progress, just barely started your relationship, and he's leaving in the morning. Simon has never hated his job more than now. He's waited, since the day y'all met, for this, and he doesn't feel like he even has a chance to enjoy it.

But it makes returning, two months later, all the more worth it. This isn't the first time you've gone with Mama Riley to pick him up, but this time is different. There's no fanfare, no balloons or signs, although you and Mama Riley had joked about it. But there is a new energy in the air, excitement to see your boyfriend.

He's easy to spot amongst the crowd, tall and imposing. But you see the way his shoulders sag with relief, when he spots you two. He greets his mom first, crushing her in a hug. There's some whispered words between the two of them, before Simon turns his attention to you.

He hesitates, before tugging his face mask down. “Can I kiss you?”

You can't help but giggle a little, nodding your head. His hands move to cradle your face, so gentle despite the horrors he's witnessed. And when your lips meet his, Simon decides there's no better way to welcome him home.

[rafecameroninterlude]

rafe + choking kink

warnings: bsf!rafe, a bit of innocent!reader, asphyxiation, dry humping

a/n: i was going to make this scenario where only reader was getting choked, but decided to flip the script last minute <3

“like this?” rafe gazed up at you, both of your hands wrapped around his neck while you straddled his lap. “a little tighter, baby.” you don’t know how you found yourself choking your best friend, but here you were, your fingers digging into his skin as you attempted to squeeze the sides of his throat.

rafe could tell by the look on your face that you were hesitating to give him your all. “i can’t rafe, i don’t want to hurt you!” you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding, a worried expression taking over your features. “aw, you couldn’t hurt me even if you tried..” he lifted your chin, meeting your eyes.

“come on,” rafe urged, “i promise you’re not hurting me.” you blinked, still unconvinced. taking one of your hands in his, he placed your palm over his hardened cock, a soft gasp leaving your lips at the teasing smirk on his face. “make me feel good,” rafe whispered, running the tip of his nose against your jaw.

obliging, rafe soon had tears in his eyes due to the pressure your hands provided to his windpipe. watching him crumble underneath you like this did something to your insides, your new profound confidence shocking the both of you. “okay.” he tapped the side of your thigh, indicating for you to stop.

ignoring his request, you squeezed tighter, making a choked groan sound from his mouth. “fuck, y/n.” rafe didn’t think he could be anymore turned on than he already was, but seeing that dark look in your eye made him think twice about the sweet girl he once knew as a friend. surely he’d be changing that after today.

“can’t breathe..” rafe said through gritted teeth, grabbing your thighs harshly. you were on such a power trip right now that you didn’t even feel the bruising grip on your skin until one of his hands shot up to wrap around your neck. it was your turn to stare wide eyed at rafe, letting go of him once you started struggling to get an intake of air.

rafe’s chest was rising and falling, his nostrils flaring with each breath. “what’s wrong?” he asked innocently, “does this scare you?” he cradled the back of your head with his other hand, your head pounding at the lack of oxygen. unable to pull away from his grasp, your hands took hold of his wrists, your hips unintentionally grinding against his own as you did so.

“you’re such a fucking slut, you’re enjoying this aren’t you?” he smiled. it wasn’t long before your vision started getting hazy, your hands scrambling to scratch at rafe’s arm. as soon as he let go, he caught you before you could fall back, pulling you into his chest.

“was that too much?” rafe sounded worried as he rubbed your back. shaking your head, you looked up at him, hips moving again so your clothed cunt can feel the tent in his pants once more. he groaned, planting his grip on your lower back to move you up and down his length.

“choke me while you fuck me?”

[bi-writes]

you're cooking when you notice him. you finish dicing the onion on your cutting board, and when you look up, you smile when you see the looming shadow that takes up the space behind your curtains. (mercenary!ghost x fem!reader, 18+)

"hi, spooky skeleton," you giggle, turning around and dropping the onions into the pot. the sizzle warms your apartment, and when you turn back around, you smile wider when he's come out from the shadows, closer, already on the other side of the kitchen island and only a few steps away from you.

he's geared up. vest thick and heavy strapped to his chest, the hood of his rain jacket over his head to further conceal the skull mask he wears. he stands tall, back straight and eyes narrowed, what little you could see of them. you put the cutting board down, twirling the kitchen knife you hold in your hand before holding it out in front of you, putting the sharp tip against the center of his chest.

"slow down there, big boy," you coo. "did you do as i told you?"

he snarls a bit before fishing a phone out of his pocket, tossing it onto the counter. you look down at it, watching the video playing. it's your mark, slobbering in tears, begging for his life. he pleads, holds up his hands, shakes his head, says that he's sorry in every language he knows until there's a satisfying hole in the middle of his forehead, a lone trail of blood making its way down his face. you think it looks like he's crying tears of blood. it's oddly poetic.

you look back at him, meeting his dark eyes, and you draw your hand back, setting the knife down. with your other hand, you drag your knuckles down the side of his masked face, puckering your lips and blowing him a dramatic kiss.

"such a proficient one, you are," you murmur. "what is that? third one this week?"

"want m'prize," he growls, and you step closer hooking your fingers into the collar of his vest and blowing him another kiss. then, you reach for the kitchen drawer next to you and pull it, taking out a thick envelope and handing it to him.

"you're making them very happy, ghost," you tap the plastic of the skull, giggling. "they like you a lot. got time for another?"

he clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side, and you squeak when he reaches down and grips both sides of your ass with two big hands. you laugh, but it turns into a breathless moan when those hands slip under your skirt and tug at the lace of your panties.

"i want the real prize, want wot 'm owed," ghost says lowly. you stand up on your toes, pressing your mouth to his over his mask. you let your hands fall, pressing on the backs of his hands, encouraging him to slip a few fingers under the lace and prod the entrance of your sticky cunt.

"you want it, baby?" you whimper. "do you?"

"yes--" you feel him bite from under the mask, and you stick your tongue out, licking over the line of his bottom lip, your pride swelling when you feel how shaky he breathes as you tease him. "give it t' me--"

there it is. now i have you.

"well..." you press your pelvis to his, rocking against his fingers, and he hisses when he feels the way you soak the fabric of his gloves. he wants to eat it, he wants to have you, he wants what he was promised. "gotta do somethin' for me first, ghost. gotta job for you. can't pay you for it though, not the way you like."

you think you see him smile under the mask, the corners of his eyes crinkling as if he likes what he hears. as if he knows what it is you will give him if he just does as you say.

"y'know wot it is tha' i want, don't you, swee'eart?"

yes, you think, and you respond by giving the front of his mask a kiss, one you think he reciprocates by the way he cradles the back of your head.

i know what it is that you want because...i want it, too.