#but feel free to swipe it or take inspiration

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Random dialogue prompt for no reason:

"You could have said that earlier."

"I tried to. Unfortunately, you had your head shoved so far up your own ass you couldn't hear me."

[kimstills]

savor

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: after being compromised to working a case the next day, aaron decides on savoring your current moment together for when he’s gone.

content warnings: heavy smut, 18+, minors do not interact! consensual recording, use of nicknames, slapping, choking, dirty talk, groping, aaron hotchner is a FREAK and has a big dick, allusions to m masturbation.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: very much inspired by this post, not sure if the original poster deleted it? but i couldn’t get it out of my head omfg i literally finished this in 2 HOURS AND IT’S NOT PROOFREAD

Aaron’s not sure where he gets the idea from.

Maybe it’s from the longing he already feels for you after being informed that the team was to take off for a case first thing tomorrow morning, even though he hasn’t even left yet.

Maybe it’s from the sexual tension that’s been filling your shared apartment ever since he stepped foot inside it, the original plan of having the weekend off and spending it with you immediately crumbling from his work.

But, even with his dick buried inside your sopping cunt, he’s just as surprised as you are when he gets the idea of grabbing his phone from where he had discarded it on his side of the nightstand table.

You whine when his movements falter for a split second, eyes widening as you stare up at him when his phone comes into your line of sight.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, already swiping right for his camera.

“You want to film this?” You ask from beneath him, his weight feeling a bit heavier as he stills.

Aaron nods, though your question makes him feel out of character. But at the sight of you sprawled underneath him on silk sheets, face a sweaty, yet beautiful mess makes him not care at all.

He leans down to press a feverish kiss to your cheek, looking you in the eyes when he pulls back, “If that’s okay with you,” the same kiss presses into your already swollen lips. “Just wanna savor the memory for when I’m gone.”

The thought of Aaron pulling up a sloppily filmed video of you two having sex while he’s away on a case immediately riles you up once more. Of him locking himself in his hotel room, fucking his cock into his hand while he watches himself fuck you from a previous time has you clenching around him.

You nod, “Okay,” you bite your lip and look up at him. “Film it.”

That’s all the confirmation Aaron needs for him to hit record and resume his actions, pummeling his still rock hard dick into your soaked pussy.

You let out a loud moan, throwing your head back. Your hand comes up to grip at the arm that wasn’t recording you for support and your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feel of the tip of his dick rubbing against your sweetest spot.

Aaron’s hands are shaky as he films you, lifting his phone higher to capture both your blissful expression and the way his cock disappears inside you with each thrust. His free hand slithers down to grip at the meat of your thigh before throwing it over his shoulder, consequently deepening his thrusts.

“O-Oh, fuck, Aaron!” Your back arches against the bed, nails digging into his forearm as each thrust sends you further over the edge, the coil in your belly threatening to finally snap.

“Look at the camera, pretty girl,”

Your boyfriend’s voice is deep and gravely, leaving you no choice but to submissively follow his orders and stare deep into the small circle of his phone’s camera.

You stare up at it, mouth slightly open to form a lazy, curved ‘o’ as each thrust Aaron delivers sends you further up the bed.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Aaron’s hand comes down to your throat, pulling you up and leaving your head slightly limp underneath his grip. “My slutty girl, taking my cock so well while she gets filmed,” a harsh slap is delivered to your face, making you gasp. “You like that, baby?”

You pout and try your best to nod with his whole hand wrapped around your throat, “I love it, Aaron.”

“I know you do, sweetheart, I can feel you clenching around my dick,” he teases, enunciating the word ‘dick’ with a particularly harsh thrust that gets you whining again. “You gonna cum, sweet girl?”

You nod harshly despite the limited air flow, eyes flickering from the camera to Aaron, “Y-Yes, yes. Can I cum, Aaron? Please?”

Your voice is whiny and desperate, filled with so much need that it takes everything in him to not cum right then and there. He lets out a grunt, hand tightening around your neck the slightest bit more, still careful as to not actually stop you from breathing, “Go ahead, baby. Cum around my cock.”

Immediately, the tightness in your lower belly snaps at Aaron’s permission, your body reduced to shaking and stuttering as your pussy clenches and unclenches around your boyfriend’s dick. Your orgasms washes over you violently, white spots filling your vision as he lets go of your neck to squeeze at your breast, fucking you through it with slower, more deeper thrusts.

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron!”

His name leaves your lips like a babbled mantra, your release captured perfectly by his phone as his dick twitches inside you at the feeling of you gushing around him. When your body has calmed down and you’re practically left limp on the bed, he pulls out of you, bringing the phone down to your pussy so he can film the way your juices spill out of you.

He dips two fingers in, earning a squeal from above when he pushes them in just to pull them back out, showing the camera how soaked they come out.

Aaron groans at the sight of it and decides that it’s not enough. He stops the video and briefly sets his phone down besides you, bringing himself up to press a sweet kiss to your cheek once more, rubbing your tousled hair out of your face, “Can you give me one more, sweetheart?”

You hum from underneath him, looking at him with a fucked out expression.

“You can do that, right, baby?” Another kiss to your temple, “My good girl can handle one more for the camera, can’t she?”

You think that the concept of being recorded, of being so obsessed over by your lover that he wants to film you again gets you even hotter, the pushing of your thighs together desperately proving inevitably so.

Aaron immediately jumps into action when you nod ‘yes,’ giving you another kiss before helping you onto your hands and knees.

Once you’re settled, he leans over you to position his phone on the top of the bed frame, leant against the wall.

A whimper emits from your pursed lips when you feel the tip of Aaron’s dick rub against your still fully soaked folds, teasing at your entrance before shoving it back inside. Your back immediately arches in response, mouth flying open in a silent scream as your boyfriend bottoms out, hips hitting your ass.

He hasn’t even moved yet, hasn’t started hitting you from behind yet your arms already shake from feeling full.

“You good, sweetheart?” He asks, brushing your hair back endearingly.

You hum, nodding as you wiggle your ass against him. You lick your lips when you catch sight of how prominently his dick still stands, hitting against the muscles of his softly defined stomach.

He hovers above you momentarily and presses what seems like the millionth loving kiss to your cheek, sneaking his hand down to squeeze one of your breast affectionately, “Want you to keep looking at the camera while I fuck you, honey,” a kiss. Another kiss. And another kiss. “Okay?”

He begins to move his hips before you can reply, starting out slow and deep before eventually moving to the same pace he was using before.

You gasp and your hands shoot out to curl around the sleeve of the pillow in front of you. Your eyes glance towards his phone, where you’re more in focus of the phone’s frame than he is. Even with you on your hands and knees and him kneeling on the bed, you can only see the bottom half of his face.

Your eyes roll back to your head again, the only sounds audible being the ones of skin slapping against skin, Aaron’s grunts, and your silent huffs that match his pace.

A mixture of a cry and moan emits from your mouth when he lands a harsh slap onto your ass, gripping the flesh in his big hand. Your legs shake when another slap lands and you feel your arms give out from beneath you, falling limp onto your stomach.

“Oh, no,” Aaron mutters, leaning down and wrapping an arm around your neck as if he were putting you in a chokehold but without the same force like before. He pulls you flush against him, sweaty chest to sweaty back, “Want the camera to capture how I’m fucking you, sweetheart,”

His hand sneaks down to fondle at your breasts, caressing both lovely with a squeeze to each one, “You look so pretty getting fucked by my cock, honey,” he points at the camera. “Can’t wait to watch these and start a collection when I get back,” he presses a kiss to your hair. “You gonna let me do that?”

You can’t reply, too fucked out to do so. Instead, you watch yourself from where you’re held against him, watching your boobs bounce with each delicious thrust he delivers into your cunt and relishing in the hot breath that fans against your ear as he nips at the sensitive skin beneath it.

“A-Aaron,” you whine. “‘m g-gonna cum again,”

“Yeah?” He asks, hand sneaking down from your breasts to your folds, slipping his fingers to begin rubbing at your clit. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

You scream, body stuttering at the cruel pace he begins to touch you with. Your other hand shoots to grip that same arm, thrashing against his hold as another orgasm ripples through your body, filling you with even more pleasure and even overstimulation.

Aaron watches you from his phone, head dipped down to get a good view at the way you rode your high out on his hand and pushed back into his dick simultaneously, mouth open in a wide ‘o’ and legs shaking.

The way you clench around him like before pushes him further towards his own release. When he stops rubbing at your clit, it’s to bring the same fingers up to your tits, coating your nipples with your juices and squeezing them once more as he pushes through the last couple of thrusts that it takes for him to finally come inside you.

You’re whining in front of him with each shallow shove, feeling his come coat your walls. You mewl when he gives the side of your head another kiss before releasing his grip on you and allowing you to fall flat against the mattress once more.

Aaron grabs his phone and aims it at your pussy once more, your ass still somewhat high in the air. He spreads your ass apart, groaning in delight when some of his seed spills out of your pussy, giving the flesh another harsh slap.

“You did so well for me, sweetheart,” he mumbles, angling himself so that he could bend over you again and place much more sweeter, loving kisses your face. “I love you, honey,”

You hum, eyes fluttering closed before emitting a tired “Love you, too,” in response.

The next night, when Aaron is alone in his hotel room, somewhere in Arizona solving said case with his team, he pulls out his phone and presses on the private folder he created shortly after you had both finished and presses play.

When he himself finishes, come all over his chest and his right hand slack next to him while his left holds up his phone, he sets a mental reminder to record you sucking him off when he gets home.

[yanderenightmare]

Dabi x darling x Hawks

TW: NSFW, noncon, war, soldiers, married reader

AN: kinda inspired by when British Parliament passed the Quartering Act in 1765, and those in the American colonies were required to provide housing for British soldiers, and how they were also expected to provide food, firewood, and even beer.

fem reader

Thinking about old-timey soldiers Hawks and Dabi who knock on your door with their caps in hand, plastic smiles on both their faces when asking for a warm homecooked meal – knowing you can’t refuse by order of the King.

It’s a humble cottage more than it’s a house, but the two men make themselves at home while you slowly stir the stew you’ve whipped up for them – only halfway of your own free will. 

Hawks asks where your husband is, and you point to the love letters displayed on the mantle and tell them he’d been called away seven months ago. 

Dabi then asks if you’ve been lonely…

You try and laugh it off as though it was a charming thing of him to say – but you’ve been feeling apprehensive ever since you opened the door – seeing their hands casually resting on the weapons by their hip as though in silent threat.

You sit with your hands in your lap while they eat. They say they’ve missed the sweetness of a woman like you – that the lads back at base don’t know how to do it the same way. And you know they’re talking about the food, but still… you can’t help but feel they’re insinuating something else.

You scream when they grab you – but it’s not like they expected anything else from a married woman – of course, a good wife would give anyone who isn’t her husband some fight – but like any woman, you’re quickly subdued by the two of them. 

Their smiles are still eerily calm, even as you cry – utterly unmatched by their actions, where they squeeze into all your plush parts with unwarranted strength.

Hawks hugs you from behind, forcing your arms behind your back – his crotch planted firm against your rear, even through all the thick layers of your skirt. 

Dabi is in front of you. He ripped open your blouse in the struggle – now whistling at the pretty sight of your tits while stroking his revolver up the crane of your neck, poking it into your cheek before using it to brush a wisp of hair out of your face – pretty and riddled with tears while you snivel and whimper.

He takes your chin in a strong hand, his tone smooth while he tells you to calm down – as though he's not got his loaded fire weapon aimed at you. His nose brushes yours as he croons at you through a smile – giving your quivering lips a quick peck.

Hawks’ tone is just as suave – playful even, grinning toothily, chuckling out how they just want to thank you for the hospitality as he quickly tugs the wool of your dress up, balling it all around your waist. Petting your cunt through your bloomers with your wrists gripped firm in his other hand, pinned tightly to the small of your back.

Cutlery, plates, and cups crash to the floor when Dabi swipes to clear the table – sending you hips-first against it.

The nose of his gun jabs into your nape, forcing your head down until your cheek smudges the splintery wood.

He doesn’t bother retraining you, letting the threat of his bullets do to all the talking while he unbuckles his belt, letting his uniform drop around his ankles.

He rips a gash in the thin cotton of your bloomers. They look too cute to remove. Not frilly like rich maidens wear, like in those catalogs the men will pass around if not pictures of each other's girlfriends. Yours are worker class, probably sewn by yourself from some old curtains – not meant to be erotic, but made so erotic because of it. 

You’re just a simple farmer’s daughter making your country proud – is what he whispers in your ear when he has two fingers stuffed up your cunt.

It’s obvious you haven’t been fucked in a while – the two digits make you wince and, in turn, make him restless to give you the real thing. He can tell just by the buck of your hips it’s going to feel the same as fucking a virgin.

You’re quickly wet like one, too. Makes it easy for him to slide into your tightness despite your teary whines. 

He lets out a heavy groan when you’ve taken him to the hilt – stays nestled there for a minute – in reverence of the tight, wet warmth he hadn’t felt in a while.

Sure, he and Hawks might have done things on cold, long, lonely nights, but nothing can quite compete with the softness of a woman in his mind.

Those precious ways you tighten up and shake from the stretch, shuffling your thighs when he kneads into your womb – soaking him with wet velvet slick.

His gun goes lazy against your back, though still very much keeping you scared in place as he lolls in and out of you at a languid pace – his chin tipped up with a sigh.

But it’s only initial relief – and once it dies down and the hunger spurs anew – he’s got his lips at your ear and his gun in your mouth – crude things flying off his lips, hips thrusting against you with the same haste of a hound in his rut – saying if he were your husband, he’d never leave your cunt and cooking – that he’d pick being buried six inches deep between your thighs than six feet deep in the dirt – sucking your cheek while telling you not to fret long over your man – how he and Hawks will help you grieve when the love letters stop coming.

The blonde is busy looting the liquor cabinet while Dabi ravages your poor cunt – but he comes back to switch with him once he finds the most expensive bottle.

It was a wedding present you’d been saving, one you’d thought you’d open the day your love would return – but Hawks cares little for the etiquette and swigs it raw from the stem as he retakes his place behind you – bathing his thick shaft with the slick sheen on your inner thighs before pressing himself inside you.

He doesn’t bother to start slow – he’d been kept waiting long enough and goes straight to pounding you deep. Kicking your legs apart – a hand buried in the cake of your ass to steady you whilst the other grips the bottle.

The table is small. Meant for only you and your man – so perfect for bending you over – just intimate enough to allow Dabi to stand at the other end with his cock in your mouth.

The whole thing wobbles against the floor as the two men have their way. 

They deserted from their battalion a long time ago and have both grown pretty tired of house-hopping – and this place seems far enough removed from where anyone would bother looking for them. 

Who knows, maybe they’ll stay until the war is over. 

♡ DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA masterlist ♡ HAWKS - TAKAMI KEIGO masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Met His Match. || Soap MacTavish (Collab)

A collab with @crashtestbunny.

Find us on AO3!

Words: 3.5K~ Pairing: Sex Fiend!Reader x One Night Stand!Soap CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, smut smut smut, dubcon elements, unprotected piv, oral sex (f!receiving), public handjob (m!receiving), overstimulation, bathroom sex, sadism, dom/sub, rough sex, sub John "Soap" MacTavish, forced ejaculation, semi-public sex, whining, light exhibitionism, power play, dry orgasm. other tags: you/your pronouns, afab!reader, dating app, hook-up, one night stand, mean reader, exhaustion, walk of shame summary: Johnny gets fucked. a/n: Inspired loosely by my "It's a Match!" fic... but so much fucking worse. P.S. Not beta-read, we die like soap.

Friday night. 6 PM.

You just got home from work and after making yourself a quick meal, you threw yourself on the couch.

Reaching for your phone you click on the Tinder icon on your home screen and immediately begin swiping away at the men that come across your screen.

You're not being too picky. Still a bit picky, but not too much. It doesn't matter that much what they look like... so much as what you feel once you see their picture.

You're not on this app for the romance, after all. No.

You're tired and frustrated from your week and all you want is to fuck a man. In fact, you want to fuck a man so hard he leaves your flat in the morning looking (and feeling) like a cheap whore.

You'll know what kind of man you're in the mood for when you see him.

Left.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

That's when a man with the biggest blue eyes you've ever seen comes across your screen. You stop the mindless swiping immediately and just stare at him.

You can already imagine the way those blue eyes would look up at you from between your thighs, and how much better his face will look when they're glassy and he's covered in sweat and drooling down his chin...

Oh yeah, he's what you're looking for alright.

So, you scroll down to read what his bio has to say.

If that bio is anything to go off of, he's also looking for something casual. After all, he mentions fingering and being ridden in the same paragraph. Perfect.

You Swipe Right on him and your phone immediately buzzes, announcing that you matched. Sweet.

Johnny texts you first. How... cute.

Johnny: hi beautiful x Johnny: how are you doing?

Oh, sweet summer child... what does he think this is? Small talk that'll lead onto a date?

You: doing good. You: how's your night looking?

It takes a minute before his reply comes.

Johnny: very free Johnny: wanna hook up?

There we go, Johnny-boy. That's the spirit.

You: would love that You: do you know that one bar around the corner from the post office? Johnny: of course You: meet there in an hour? Johnny: i'll be there Johnny: i'll be wearing blue

You can't help but chuckle... he won't be wearing much of anything soon enough.

-

Finding him at the bar is extremely easy because the bar is not packed, albeit still pretty busy. But that's not why you picked it. You picked it because it's only a short car ride from your flat.

Johnny is leaning on the bar, as promised, wearing a dark blue t-shirt, dark wash jeans, and a pair of simple black boots.

You approach him from behind, wearing a simple black dress. Not one of those flashy, slinky club types, just a regular dress. You know what you came here to get.

"Hey." You greet him casually and he turns to look at you, his hand wrapped around a lowball glass with some drink inside. It's clear... so either tequilla or vodka.

When he turns you realize three things immediately: 1) He lied about his height. He's definitely not 6ft tall, but 5ft10 at the most; 2) He's built like a brick shithouse, impossibly wide shoulders with large, beefy arms... So he wasn't lying about his 'Athletic' build; and 3) He has a fucking mohawk.

You can already imagine the way he'd look, your legs over his shoulders, as you squeezed his head between your thighs while his tongue lapped at your folds... Fuck, you're horny.

"...nice. What are you drinking? I'll buy." You catch the end of what he said, the beginning probably a greeeting, and a compliment, and, now an offer of a drink.

You try to shrug casually and seem unbothered. You decide to humour him. If he wants to play the gentleman part and pretend this is a date, you can play along.

"Whiskey. Neat." You murmur in reply as you slot yourself next to him against the bar, your thigh brushing against his as he orders and pays for your drink.

"So, a soldier, huh? What's that like?" You muse as you take a sip of your drink, watching him take a sip of his, his throat bobbing as he swallows. Oh, how you'd love to wrap a hand around...

"I like it. Always ken I wanted to be one. Tried to sign early and everythin'. I like keepin' active and I'm good at what I do..."

He continued talking, but you tuned him out, eyes locked on his mouth, watching how his lips pushed and pulled for each word, his white teeth in a neat row behind and his wet tongue sometimes peeking out.

He talked a lot. He talked... too much.

"Let me cut you off right there." You interrupted him, causing him to shut his mouth and stare at you. "Care to have this conversation between my legs, gorgeous?"

Johnny stares at you with impossibly wide eyes, like what you just said is the most bizarre thing he's ever heard. His left brow, right below an obvious scar, twitches, a sign he's interested. "...When?" He asks in a murmur.

"Right now." You reply with a head tilt.

The blue-eyed Scot simply nods eagerly and knocks back the contents of his drink into his mouth.

-

"That's it... That's fucking it-" You croon as you buck your hips into his mouth, your back pressed against the wall, the hem of your dress curled up and tucked into the elastic band of your bra.

Johnny's on his knees on the floor of the cubicle, his tongue lapping at your slick cunt like he's a prisoner on death row and that's his last meal request and he insists on enjoying it.

One of his hands grips your right thigh, squeezing it and keeping it steady, the other alternating between rubbing your clit and going around the back of your hip to squeeze one of your arse cheeks, pulling you deeper into his mouth whenever he licks and sucks your clit.

His blue eyes are locked on yours and they look just as good as you had imagined they would as his moist tongue curls to gather some of your slick and swallow it down, to taste as much of it as he can.

He's such a fucking munch, his tongue parting your folds and diving as deep into your hole as he can get it, before sliding back up to meet your clit, giving it a greedy suck.

There's a smug smirk on his lips, even as they're buried in your cunny, and a chuckle falls from them too while he thrashes his head side to side like a dog playing tug-of-war, nearly blowing raspberries on your clit and causing you to squirm against him, more expletives falling from your mouth.

You know what he's thinking. He thinks he's in charge. He thinks he's doing a good job fucking you. Oh, how wrong he is. And you're about to show him that.

"Wipe that fucking smirk off your face, sweetheart." You demand as you push his hands off your body and grab onto his stupid fucking mohawk with both hands like a handle to grind yourself against his face.

His eyes widen, but the sight of you using his mouth, his tongue, to get yourself off, hips bucking and dragging across his chin and tongue, lips and nose is enough to get him riled up.

He can't help himself, his hands finding a spot on the floor and his own legs spreading apart, allowing him to half-grind his clothed cock against the tile.

His head bobs eagerly against you, his nose buried in your mons, the flat of his tongue rubbing over your clit, his beard prickling against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, crotch and folds.

Your legs are trembling on either side of his head, but you don't stop riding yourself against his tongue, your head falling back against the tiled wall behind you, the pitch of your voice getting higher and higher.

The way the flat of his tongue presses to your clit causes your whole body to shake, your skin warming up more and more to the touch. The coil in your stomach is getting tighter by the second and your breath, as well as your moans, are ragged and long.

Your hips buck and thrash and your head hangs low suddenly as your climax crashes onto you, leaving you breathing fast and deep, your eyes fluttering a bit as you look down to find Johnny kneeling between your thighs, his tongue still softly sliding upward, spreading your folds open and swallowing your come deep into his mouth.

"That's it, drink up, I'm not giving you water anytime soon, sweetheart." You tell him, noticing how his eyes have gone glassy, a wet spot having formed in his dark jeans.

Filthy mutt got off on having you fuck yourself on his tongue...

-

Having pulled Johnny off you and fixed your dress back into place, you called an Uber and then dragged the bulky man out of the bar by the hand, marching ahead of him toward the pavement, under a street lamp, to wait for your ride.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you guided your mouth up Johnny's chin toward his mouth, locking lips with him, your tongue seeking his out.

His beard and mouth are both still soaked with your come, he smells of it, and tastes of it too, and with each push and pull of your tongues as you seek each other out, you get more of a taste of yourself.

You only broke the kiss once the Uber arrived, your phone having pinged with a warning, and a car having pulled to the side of the road not far from the two of you.

You and Johnny piled in together and while he scooted all the way across the backseat toward the other door, you slid up next to him as you two greeted the driver.

You didn't bother with a seatbelt (neither did Johnny) and since the driver didn't seem too keen on chit-chat, you allowed yourself to drape a leg across Johnny's lap, while his arm wrapped around your waist.

Your fingers slid over his thigh toward the darkened patch of denim on his crotch, and, with your leg (and the music playing from the speakers) as cover, you slowly undid the fly and button.

"What are ye-" Johnny murmured as he glanced at you with raised brows and wide eyes, like an innocent little puppy.

"Sh-shh..." You hissed as you kissed his cheek, playing the part of a loving girlfriend, or an overly affectionate date, for your driver's sake, you slowly slid your fingers through the open zipper, fishing for his cock amidst the wet fabric of his boxer briefs.

The pretty boy was already at half-mast again, even after having already come once, and your hand quickly wrapped around it as you began stroking it.

Johnny thighs trembled and his legs kicked out a bit as he felt your warm hand wrap around his sensitive member, and he looked away, out of the window, eyelids fluttering, eyebrows scrunched, and a hard bite on his bottom lip.

His cock began steadily throbbing in your hand, hardening and growing more with each languid stroke of your hand around him. He's thick. Much thicker than you expected him to be. You can feel your fingers struggling to fully wrap around him.

Sliding your palm up, you slowly rub over the hooded tip, which draws a squeak from the back of his throat, his chest heaving, and his stomach being sucked in.

"Control yourself..." You whispered in his ear which, making sure to shoot a glance forward at the Uber driver, who seemed focus on the road.

In response, you received yet another soft groan and a hiss through clenched teeth, Johnny's head lulling toward you, his forehead leaning against your temple. "Feels... fuck... I can't... you're... ah-"

"Feels good?" You murmur in his ear as you kiss his bearded jaw lightly, feeling him buck a bit against your hand, causing your thigh to bounce on his lap.

"Hm... Mhm..." Johnny grunted. "Fuck... Steamin' Jesus..." He whined brokenly as your hand kept stroking his length fully, up and down, at a slow, languid pace.

You'd draw back the foreskin, exposing the bulbous head, before drawing it up again as your hand climbed up to rub against the tip for a moment, only to roll back down once more.

Whenever the car would drive past a street lamp, the yellow-toned light would flutter briefly over Johnny's exposed cock, and draw your attention right to his pink, bulbous tip, overstimulated and angry, leaking shiny beads of pre-cum.

"Sh-Shh..." You cooed at him again, enjoying the broken sounds of pleasure he'd let out through clenched teeth, the way his cock would throb and twitch in your hand, and how the muscular man next to you vibrated with tension.

Oh, how you loved to make men break under your hand, and, even more so, how much you loved to make men like him break. A soldier, a strong man, used to dominating... How silly of him to think he had any power here...

It takes little time for Johnny to suddenly twitch and thrash next to you, his breath picking up and becoming ragged and wet, like he's struggling to control himself into being quiet...

You look up at him just in time, finding the way his head falls back on the headrest of his seat, while he grunted under his breath and hissed through his teeth, again, and again, his eyes fluttering shut as he experienced a dry orgasm, only the tiniest beads of cum slipping down to your fingers right below the head.

Just in time too, because the Uber pulled over less than a minute later, the Uber driver looking back at you and Johnny. "We're here, Miss." He told you politely.

"Thank you, Jared. I'll be sure to leave you a 5-star rating and a good tip." You replied to the driver as you slipped your leg off Johnny's lap and scooted closer to the other door.

After opening the door, you turned again and grabbed Johnny by his shirt collar, your fingers hooking themselves onto the inside of it and grazing his dog tags hanging around his neck.

Smirking, you slip them from the confines of the shirt and then twirl the ball chain around your forefinger like a lead, pulling it taut, which causes Johnny to audibly whine.

"C'mon, Johnny." You ordered as you tugged him forward, causing him to scoot forward, ducking his head to follow you out of the car, his movements languid and slow, his head still cloudy from the recent orgasm.

-

"Fuck, yes! Fuck!" You whine, your head falling back, your hair sticking to your forehead and your nape.

"Steamin' fuckin' Jesus... Fuck..." Johnny groans, his own head rolling back on the mattress of your bed.

"Yes... Yes..." You grunt as you fix your grip on the bottom of his thighs, right before his knees, bouncing your ass off his lap.

Johnny's mouth is hanging open, his hands fisting the bed sheets as he lies on a puddle of his own sweat, every inch of his exposed, hairy torso glistening under the light of your bedside lamp.

You're both exhausted, your hands slippery on his sweaty thighs, your own sometimes shaking as you bounce on him again, and again.

Your pace is starting to become uncoordinated and sloppy because your legs are tired, your knees struggling to keep up and causing you to stutter atop him, driving his cock harder into you and deep against your cervix twice in a row.

It drives a desperate moan out of you both and you go still for a moment, feeling the sweat trickle down your brow.

"Fuck... C'mon..." Johnny whines and grabs you by the hip, attempting to rock his hips up against the cleft of your ass, helping pound into you...

Only for you to bounce up with him and then throw all your weight down onto him, causing his ass to be pinned back down onto the bed, and drawing a loud yowl of surprise as his cock barrels right against your cervix, sending a sting of pain up your spine.

Johnny looks up at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw, seemingly horrified and confused.

Finding his eyes, you lean forward, pressing your hands onto his chest, before murmuring "Stay fucking still. This isn't about you."

"Sorry?" Johnny murmurs, whether in confusion or genuinely apology, you don't know.

"You're nothing more than a toy right now. And good toys don't talk." You warn him.

"I-" He stuttered, not fast enough to protest before you were moving atop him again, the new angle and slight pause having provided you with an extra burst of energy.

You rocked against him, keeping him buried down to the hilt and rubbing your sensitive clit against the bush at the base of his cock.

It makes you croon in delight, keeping up the same angle but becoming more and more frantic, rubbing yourself against his bush while keeping his shaft sheathed nice and deep in your weeping cunny.

Something about the warm wetness enveloping his already oversensitive cock, the sight of your face contorting in pleasure atop him, so close and yet so far, your hands pushing against his chest so he doesn't try to reach for you.

It drives him over the edge and he finds himself losing it, his big blue eyes fluttering and rolling, his jaw dropping and his every muscle straining as his head falls back, causing him to stiffen beneath you.

Out of breath, you lean your head against his chest, feeling the warmth of your release coming in the aftermath of his own, his cock twitching and throbbing inside you being the final nail in the coffin.

Johnny doesn't dare move as he feels your warm cunt squeeze around him, draining every last drop from his already reduced third orgasm, simply lying there, beneath you.

His mouth is hanging open, drier than the Sahara, every inch of him is slick with sweat and he's out of breath and his entire body is trembling ever so slightly as he closes his eyes in pure bliss.

Only for his eyes to shoot open again as he feels you start up again, your ass carefully bouncing off his sore thighs.

-

Johnny stumbles his way into the training room. It's 6 a.m. and he has not caught a fucking wink of sleep.

Unlike his normal hook-ups, after which he reports to base with a pep in his step and a smirk on his lips that no amount of push-ups, sit-ups and mile runs can wipe off...

This time, he's limping, every muscle of his feeling sore and stiff, his thighs feel like they're going to bruise up, his cock burns from how oversensitive it is...

He hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, hasn't drunk water... and the closest thing to a shower he got was when you tossed him some wet wipes in the morning.

Unlike him, you had gotten up in the morning (aka after a 1.5 hour power nap) perfectly energized and like you hadn't spent half of the night riding him like a stallion you were trying to break...

Gaz is the first to notice Johnny's state as the Scot falls into formation with the rest of the unit, his eyes still sort of glassy. But he doesn't say anything... he simply raises a brow and smirks in amusement.

Ghost is standing by Price on the sidelines and notices next and, unlike Gaz, he chuckles at it and calls Price's attention to it. The Captain turns to look at Soap and has to contain the look of amused disappointment from showing on his face.

"Soap!" The Captain calls out, causing Soap to look over, nearly languidly and then approach, with Gaz following behind him, despite not having been called. He just... wanted in on the fun.

"The fuck happened to you, son? Did you get in a fight?" Price asks with a cocked brow, watching how the younger sergeant squirms and his tanned face grows warmer.

"N-No sir." Johnny replies and shakes his head, which causes him to wince, feeling light-headed.

"I think 'assaulted' would be a better word for it, Cap'n." Gaz chides, causing the Scot to huff and turn his head in frustration and embarrassment.

"Shut it, Garrick..." Soap murmurs, which earns a light chuckle from all the men, Ghost included.

"Go shower and take a nap. You're excused for this morning." Price tells the sergeant, causing the lad to nod thankfully and wander off, limping once more.

As he gets back to his barracks, he grabs his phone, typing out a quick message for you, thankful you insisted on giving him your number and taking his... Johnny secretly hoped that meant you wanted a repeat.

"Hope you're happy... Made me embarrass myself in the state I showed up to training in."

The reply he earned, however, was the most cold-hearted one he could've received... One he never even saw coming.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

Read Bunny's Work HERE

[chilling-seavey]

Blue Moon Motel (gr63)

↳ A/N I can't thank you all enough for your lovely words on my first piece of George writing I posted here. Your welcome into the F1 side of Tumblr has been so incredibly kind. Please take this heartbreaking story as my thank you <3

↳ Inspired By Blue Moon Motel by Nicole Dollanganger

↳ Summary: George has decided that his affair with you needs to end but he takes you out for one last night before saying goodbye.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 8.0k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, cheating (George is having an ongoing affair with the reader, gf is unnamed), use of explicit language, fucking without feelings (or so they think), oral (f receiving), choking, spanking, some biting, hair pulling, use of derogatory names (slut etc.), unprotected sex

G: Booked a hotel room tonight. You free? 

Your favourite kind of text. You knew well what he was asking for and you lifted your phone from your desk to answer;

-Always free for you and I wanted to talk to you about something anyway. Time and place?

G: I need to talk to you too...and I need to fuck you. 7pm. Blue Moon Motel. I’ll wait for you in the lobby? 

-Sounds good. See you then ;)

It wasn’t uncommon for George to book rooms when he needed you and couldn’t get the house to himself. He always booked mid-range where the rooms were nice but the place wasn’t expensive, something located farther out of Monaco and towards Menton in the south of France so chances of getting caught by paparazzi was slimmer. He couldn’t take any chances when you weren’t his girlfriend. The world didn’t know her yet but she didn’t know you and that would have been the main issue if he was caught by the press sneaking you into a five star hotel. 

Regardless, you dressed in your best lingerie and a short dress overtop before calling a cab to the motel. It was a hot day in the south of France and the evening didn’t do much to lessen the humidity, the moment you stepped out of the cab you felt your skin flush under the heat. George was waiting in the lobby as promised, identity hidden behind sunglasses and a casual outfit, and he stood up when he saw you. He glanced around as you approached each other to make sure no one was paying much attention before leaning in to kiss you quickly. 

“You look great.” he complimented quietly before taking your hand. 

“So do you.” you smiled softly, letting him lead you towards the elevators as he tucked his sunglasses in the collar of his shirt. 

George seemed more nervous than normal and you watched as he eyed the numbers on the elevator ticking up to your floor, his hand still snug in yours and his weight shifting from side to side ever so slightly. 

“What’s up?” you asked, tugging on his hand to bring his attention to you. 

He glanced at you with surprised blue eyes but shrugged as the elevator doors slid open, “Nothing.” 

“You said you wanted to talk about something in your text.” you stated as he pulled you down the hallway to the room. 

George stopped outside a door and swiped the key before glancing back at you, “Fucking first. Talking after.”

You couldn’t get a rebuttal out before he was sweeping you right off your feet and into his arms like a bride. You shrieked in surprise but tossed your arms around his shoulders and kissed his jaw through your excited giggles as he carried you into the hotel room.

“What a gentleman.” you whispered against his cheek. 

“Only the best for you.” George gushed, finding your lips with his as he kicked the door closed behind the two of you.

He gently let you slip from his arms onto the ground of the small hotel room foyer, your feet landing silently on the carpet as your lips lingered on each others and you swallowed him up in your arms. George’s arms slid around your waist and pulled you impossibly closer by your waist until you were pressed flush up against him. You could feel the bulge in his jeans against your body and you tangled your hand in the back of his hair to pull his lips off of yours for a moment. His eyes lingered on yours, pupils already dilated and soft breaths falling from pink lips. The way he looked at you could make your knees weak and you scratched your fingers through the back of his hair for a moment. 

“Have you been hard all day?”

George groaned lightly at your bluntness, licking his lips as he stared at you, “Most of the day.” 

“And thinking of me?”

“Yeah.” George bit back a little smirk, his hands sliding from your hips to your ass and he grabbed two snug handfuls. 

You brushed your nose against his and let your lips connect again, lingering there a moment before you both inhaled sharply and tilted your heads to turn it deeper. His fingers inched up the hem of your short dress as his lips distracted themselves with yours and when your dress was up around your waist, he slapped his hand down hard against your bare ass.

You tugged at his hair to strengthen your kiss and his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, shooting shivers down your spine. You opened up for him and his tongue pushed its way into your mouth as he backed you up against the doorway to the bathroom. Your hands dragged down his chest and worked to blindly unbutton his shirt quickly as he slid a hand between your legs. His fingers made you shiver under his touch, gasping out of your kiss as his lips moved down your neck and his fingers drew slow stripes over your panties. 

“Have you been wet all day?” George taunted against your ear, pushing your question back at you. 

“Just about.” you laughed lightly, dragging your hands down his abs. 

“Wanna shower with me?” he asked, his eyes focusing on your lips in your close proximity, sliding his hands around your waist to pull you right up against his jeans. 

Your hands teased the hem of his pants, “Of course.”

George shrugged off his shirt and tossed it to the floor before his hand found its way around your throat and pulled your mouth back onto his. Your hands memorized his body, over his shoulders and arms and bare chest, finally returning to his jeans to pop the button and slide your hand down the front. 

George moaned into your kiss, moulding his tongue against yours as he kept you pressed up against the doorframe and you palmed him strongly down his pants. His hands shimmied up your dress and lifted it over your head to drop to the floor before returning your mouth to his hungry kisses. The quiet hotel room filled with the sound of your sloppy kisses and you grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him after you into the bathroom. 

George’s large hands soaked up your body in the black lace, lingering at your chest before sliding over your hips and ass, breathing into your mouth, “Christ, you’re so fucking sexy.”

You bit at his bottom lip, urging a moan from him while you shoved his jeans down his legs and he kicked his shoes off and then his jeans followed, tossed back out into the hotel room foyer. Your kisses were turning feverous, desperation growing as clothes were stripped and passion increasing with the fiery touch of hands on skin. George’s lips moved down your neck and his right hand pushed down the front of your underwear. It was only then that you noticed the bracelet missing from his wrist. The bracelet that matched his girlfriend’s. 

“Where’s your bracelet?” you asked quietly, watching him kiss at your neck through the mirror. 

His fingers kept up slow stripes over your cunt as his face lifted from your neck and his eyes found yours, “I’m yours tonight. No one else’s.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you pulled his lips back on yours with a feverous desire that made him chuckle lightly. His fingers worked a bit faster between your legs, finally rubbing lazily at your clit until you were grinding onto his hand. 

“I need you.” you breathed into his mouth, pulling lightly at his hair to keep his lips on yours. “Please, sir.” 

A soft groan came from George’s throat and he yanked your panties down your thighs. 

“Strip.” he ordered. 

You did as told while he turned on the shower and set it to a comfortable temperature, turning back to you only to find you naked and waiting. Your hands were on your chest, tweaking at your hardening nipples, and George smacked your hands away. 

“Lemmy see your pretty tits.” 

You bit your lip at his vulgarity, always liking to see how filthy his usual polite and gentlemanly demeanor could turn. His hands were on you in an instant, forcing you to lean back against the bathroom counter as his mouth found your left breast first, tonguing at your nipple before sucking at it for a moment and doing the same to the opposite one. The tent in his boxers was massive and you played with the thick shape of his dick through the fabric ever so gently as he licked back up your neck and nipped at your earlobe. 

“Feel how fucking hard you make me, baby?” George whispered. “Just need to fuck you so bad.” 

“So do it.” you taunted. 

“In the shower, pretty little whore. Gonna show you what I’ve been thinking about all day.”

He left you with a spank as you slunk past him and helped yourself to the warm shower. You held your head back under the stream of water and soaked yourself up as George watched for a moment from in front of the counter. He dropped his underwear and you gave him a little show as he stroked himself off a little, his eyes lingering on the water cascading down your bare body and over every curve. You let your hands trail your figure until he was stepping in behind you and taking your place. 

“Little slut…putting on a show for me, huh?” George breathed against your ear as his hands rubbed over your hips. You could feel his dick pressed up against your ass and you pushed back on him impatiently. 

He adjusted the stream of water, soaking both of you, before shifting it to the side again and ran a hand over his wet hair. He bent you forward and you set your hands flat against the tile wall, ass out and back slightly arched, and he slapped his hand down against your flesh. You gasped lightly, the water on your skin only increasing the sound of his spanks as he did it again. 

“Fuck me.” you choked out. “Please just fuck me, sir.” 

George shuffled up behind you and you spread your feet slightly to give him room to tuck himself between your legs. The feeling of his dick grazing over your folds had you fluttering and he could feel it, his hand sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair as his other slowly pushed himself inside you. 

Your mouth dropped open as the stretch, easing back on him so he bottomed out quicker, and your eyes fell shut as he filled you completely. George groaned lowly, gripping your wet hair in one hand and your hip in the other, focusing on the limited space between you and how he fit inside you so perfectly. 

He stayed still for a moment as if to compose himself but you started fucking yourself back onto him, rocking forward and back in messy motions to get him going, only making yourself moan desperately. 

George slapped his hand down against your ass, “Yeah. That’s my girl.”

His praise made you flush pink and you groaned excitedly as he yanked at your hair and shoved right into you. You gasped, grabbing onto the shower wall the best you could as he started thrusting into you, giving you everything before pulling out almost all the way and then moving back in. 

“Oh my God.” you breathed, “Shit...you’re so fucking big-”

“Yeah?” George chuckled against your neck, keeping up his strong steady thrusts, “Where do you feel me?”

“So deep.” you groaned softly. 

“Yeah?” George tightened his grip in your hair and picked up speed, shoving into you a bit faster. 

“Oh God.” you cried, hands streaking down the shower wall as he fucked you harder and you couldn’t help but push back on him in time with his motions. 

“Good girl.” George spanked you again before grabbing a handful of your ass and made sure you were pulled open so he could fit in as deep as he could go. The warm water only increased the sound of his skin slapping against yours, his hands holding you in place so he could fuck you how he wanted and you shoved back on him each time. “God, you’re such a fucking slut.” 

“George-” you cried out as he slid his hand around the front of your neck and then really started going to town, shoving into you roughly until you were falling silent. 

“Good girl.” he growled against your ear. “Take it. Fucking take it.” 

You squealed softly, hands squeaking against the tile wall in your desperate attempt to keep yourself steady, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah-” 

His fingers pushed their way into your mouth to keep you quiet and you moaned around them, eyes falling shut as he had his way with you and was nearly choking you with his two fingers. But he slowed down almost just as quickly, making you whine around his fingers as he went back to strong deep thrusts that pushed you to slump forward against the shower wall again. His hand slid down your neck and grabbed your breast in his palm before finding your hip. 

“I love this fucking pussy.” George breathed, bending over you to kiss between your shoulder blades as he thrusted into you slowly but strongly, guiding your hips with his hands. His eyes dropped between you to watch as he pushed inside you and rolled your hips back onto him each time, creating a perfect rhythm with your wet bodies. He gripped the flesh of your hip so tightly you were sure he was going to leave bruises, fingers pressing into your skin as he tugged you back on his dick again and again. 

He stretched you out so well and it always managed to take your breath away no matter how many times you had snuck off together. The warm water only added to the sensations, slicking you up so as he sped up the small hotel bathroom was filling with the steady slap of his skin on yours. Faster, faster, faster, George’s hands gripped tighter to your waist and you could only bend over more for him, slumping against the wall as he shoved deep inside you again and again until all you could do was take it. 

“Please.” you sobbed, “Please don’t stop!” 

“You wanna cum, baby girl?” George breathed, his words almost muffled by the shower and the wet clapping of his skin on yours. 

“Yessir.” you whimpered.  

“Yeah?” he taunted through his teeth, “You think you deserve to cum? Beg.”

“Please, please, please make me cum.” you cried, tears brimming in your eyes at the overwhelm. 

His left hand gathered your wrists under his grasp and pinned your hands to the shower wall as his right kept you close so he could keep pounding into you. The restraint of it all had you whining loudly, head tilting back until the stream from the shower hit your chest and he spanked you hard. 

“Please, sir!” you nearly shrieked, feeling your stomach ache with need. “Please, I wanna cum for you!”

“You’re gonna cum when I tell you.” George ordered. 

“Yeah.” you whined in tired agreement, already starting to feel your muscles clenching around him in desperation. 

“Good girl.” George fucked into you harder, letting his teeth find your shoulder as he chased his orgasm and his hand that had been holding yours against the wall found your hair again and gave it a good yank. 

You cried out, welcoming his lips on your neck as he groaned against your flushed skin and your legs were starting to tremble. You bit down on your bottom lip, fucking yourself back on him as you tried to hold yourself back the best you could until he gave you permission. It was one of the things he liked best about you; you always listened. It's what you were there for, after all; to give him what he wanted.

“Ready, baby girl?” George whispered against your ear. “Cum with me.”

“Yes. Come inside me.” you begged shakily, desperate to finish him off, “Please, sir. Please, I want it.” 

“That’s my girl. Listen to you fucking beg. Ready?” George panted as he let go of your hair and gripped your hips and fucked you harder and rougher as his groans moulded into pitchy moans and you could feel him twitching inside you. “Now. Cum.”

In seconds, with one more rough tug of your body back onto him, he came deep inside you, grunting lowly against your skin and digging his nails down into your flesh. 

“Oh God…” you whined breathily, squealing in overwhelm as you came with him, vision blurring around the edges as he shot pleasure through every nerve in your body. You could only sob out a few more “yeses” through it, pulsing down around him as he gave you a few lazy thrusts through his heavy breaths and small groans. 

He kept his hands on your hips as he pulled out slowly, watching the thick white cream drip filthily out of you and onto the shower floor to be washed away by the water. He smacked his hand down on your ass before sliding a hand between your legs to finger the rest of his cum back inside you, making sure to graze his thumb over your clit to make you flinch. 

“That’s my good girl.” George praised, his voice drowned out by the water but he gently pulled you from the wall so your back was pressed up to his chest. He rested your head back against his shoulder so he could look at your face as your wet chest heaved with breathlessness. 

Your eyes lingered on his features, how the water cascaded down his cheeks and soaked his hair over his forehead…you could have stayed there forever with his arms around your waist and his body pressed up to yours. His lips found your jaw and left a soft kiss there before focusing back on your face and let a little smirk tug at his mouth. 

“Your makeup is ruined.” he whispered. 

“Mm…whose fault is that?” you laughed lightly. 

“Yours. For begging for it.” George teased. 

He slid his hands into yours and you laced your fingers together, letting the water run over the both of you for a moment as he held you against his chest and left kisses over your neck. After a moment he turned you around to face him and he wiped the streaked mascara from your cheeks and under your eyes and brushed your wet hair from your face. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on you, taking in your face and your body like you were unfamiliar to him, his large hands not leaving your skin for long if at all. 

“We can’t see each other anymore.” 

The words he spoke were gentle in tone but felt like they were physically stabbed right through your lungs. Your eyebrows furrowed a moment as you stared at him and his downcast gaze, your hands resting haphazardly against his chest. 

“What?” you breathed out. 

George sighed and reached behind you to turn off the shower and he grabbed a towel from the rack to wrap around your shoulders before he explained himself, “I just…don’t think that this is fair to anyone anymore.” 

“It was never fair to anyone...George...what-” you took a moment to try and gather your thoughts, “What is making you say this? Does she know about us?”

“No. No, she doesn’t.”

“Then what?” you shivered slightly under his hazy gaze and the water that was drying over your bare skin. He didn’t answer for a moment so you added a, “Huh?”

“Baby,” George sighed, reaching to rub the towel over your arms to warm you up.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me.” you spoke softly, voice quivering, as you stepped out of the shower and onto the bathmat over the floor. 

George followed and you glanced at his reflection through the mirror as you dried yourself off and gave a few extra swipes between your legs, mopping up the warm cum that was still slowly dripping out of you. George trailed his hand down your spine as he grabbed a second towel for himself, “I really like being with you.”

You didn’t answer him, simply dried yourself off beside him in silence. 

“I just…we can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep this a secret any longer…not with Alex and Lando and whoever else knowing now…and we’re getting far too risky…” 

You wrapped the towel around your body and faced him with a flat expression, “So what the fuck is this? This hotel room? Fucking me raw in the shower?”

“I wanted to make our last night special.” George shrugged, tracing your collarbones with his hand. The hand that was missing the bracelet. “Because I know you have feelings for-“

“Stop. Don’t.” you cut him off. “Don’t say that shit.” 

George stayed quiet for a moment. 

So did you. 

“Let me give you one night.” he finally whispered. “One night where I’m yours. Only yours. I don’t want to end like this…in an argument…we deserve better after these last few months.” 

You just stared to the side, trying to keep the tears from spilling; not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was breaking your heart. 

George’s hand slid up the side of your neck and took your chin in his grasp to turn you to face him. “Look at me.” he spoke gently. 

You slowly raised your eyes to his. He was standing so closely you could almost feel his warm breath on your cheek and his lashes brushed over your cheek. His lips ghosted yours and you habitually let yours linger on his in a feather soft hesitant kiss. The hotel room was silent as his lips shifted smoother onto yours, capturing them in an ever so gentle kiss that made butterflies flutter in your stomach. George’s hand on your chin guided you through another faint kiss as if testing the waters and you couldn’t help but give into him. You always gave into him. 

Your hands slid up his bare chest and around his shoulders, welcoming his slow passionate kisses as his tongue found its way into your mouth. George moved slowly, grabbing the towel that was wrapped around you and pulled it from your body and onto the floor. With his hands on your bare skin, the fire of his touch was back in full force and you couldn’t help but shuffle closer to him. 

George nipped teasingly at your bottom lip between kisses as his large hands slid down your back and to your ass and finally to your thighs. He crouched down just enough to lift you right up off the ground and into his arms all without breaking your deep kisses. Your legs wrapped around his waist with ease, tangling your fingers in the back of his hair to keep his lips on yours, and he carried you out of the bathroom and over to the king size bed. 

Freshly showered and skin still pink from the hot water and the warm up you had, George knelt up on the end of the bed and then leaned forward to gently lay you down on the mattress, following right after you to keep his lips on yours. His hands shuffled under the back of your head and he fanned out your damp hair over the pillows as his lips moved down your neck. His touch alone was electrifying and he cradled the back of your neck as his lips left open mouthed kisses over your warm skin. His hands followed his lips, trailing down your shoulders and collarbones and down to your chest, kissing and groping and licking at your flesh until your breathing was starting to fall heavy. 

“Your tits look so fucking pretty tonight, baby.” George breathed, nearly nuzzling himself between them as his hands worked them gently. Your soft gasp when his thumb grazed your nipple had him smirking and he sucked over one and then the other, teasing them with his teeth until they were nice and hard and your hand was finding its way into his damp hair. “God, you’re gorgeous.” 

You sighed shakily as he continued down your body, kissing wetly down to your bellybutton and over your hips, slowing tauntingly as his hands spread your legs for him. You watched him carefully as he situated himself between your legs and linked his arms under your thighs, letting a thick string of drool fall from his lips and onto your folds. George’s tongue followed it, brushing ever so gently over your body but still made you flinch and grab his hair. 

He pulled back, soaking up how you looked spread for him, pussy still wet from his prior attack on your body and the faint signs of bruising over your hips had him biting back a smirk. He trailed a finger down over your folds, watching your wetness cling to his finger and he spread you open to see the traces of white left behind inside you and slowly dripping out still. George groaned lowly and kept you spread between two fingers so he could slip his tongue inside you teasingly. You gasped lightly but he pulled back just as quickly, kissing over your cunt until you were starting to grind up against his face, desperate for his touch. 

Whimpering quietly, you kept one hand tangled in his hair and rolled your hips against his face and he just opened up wider for you, giving you sloppy open mouthed kisses with just enough tongue to have you quivering with desire. 

“Please, sir.” you whimpered ever so quietly, staring down at him with a pretty pout that made him shutter. 

He hummed, sliding his tongue up between your legs before pushing it inside you slowly. 

“Yeah.” you breathed out, letting your body focus on him and nothing but the pleasure he so easily could give you. 

George fucked you slowly with his tongue, lapping up your arousal and his own cum that was still left over from your hookup in the shower. He did so without hesitation, moaning softly against your skin as he nuzzled his face deeper between your thighs and ate you out like heaven. He worked slowly, licking and slurping and savouring each and every part of you until your head was falling back against the pillows with bliss. 

The hotel room was perfectly silent, almost eerily silent, except for the faint sound of traffic outside behind your heavy breaths and his wet tongue. George kept his eyes on you, keeping your lips spread so his tongue could have easy access and he dragged it up and down your folds slowly and then faster and faster to make you squirm. 

“Sir-“ you shuttered, grinding up against his face some more. “Please-“

His hands kept you in place by your thigh and your lower stomach, holding you down on the mattress as he had you as he pleased. Usually your hookups were rushed and quiet and often mostly about him - your purpose after all was to give him the sexual pleasure she couldn’t - but this time, he took his time with you, reaching every single nerve in your body without even touching your clit yet. You felt on fire, breathless, blissful, and hungry for more of him. You couldn’t think about the fact that this was your last time when he could so easily melt you down with a flick of his tongue. 

George’s large hands moved to your thighs and pushed you open wider, feet flat on the bed and legs parted nice and far to keep you spread wide for him. 

“Look at this gorgeous fucking pussy.” George breathed, leaving taunting kisses over your inner thighs before brushing his nose ever so gently against your cunt. “You’re so fucking wet, baby. Who did this to you?”

“Always you, sir.” you whispered, massaging your one hand through his damp hair. 

He chuckled against you, the vibrations felt right up against your body and you inhaled sharply, especially as he finally dragged his tongue over your clit. You whimpered loudly, scrunching your eyes closed. 

“Good girl. Feel it.” 

His tongue dragged in slow stripes over your clit, just enough to make you squirm, rutting up against his face again. Your whimpers turned him on like you wouldn’t believe and he groaned against you as his tongue lapped at your wetness and he shook his head deeper to make a mess of it all. 

“Oh God-“ you breathed to the ceiling. 

His right hand slid up your body, right between your breasts, and finally to your mouth and he pushed two fingers past your lips. You sucked on them gladly as his tongue worked between your legs in slow gentle motions that made you drip. 

“Say my name.” George ordered, his voice deep against your wet flesh. 

“Sir-“

“No, baby. Say my name.”

Butterflies filled your body as his fingers pulled from your mouth with perfect wet suction and you let your lips bless the name you craved, “George.”

“That’s it.”

He was breaking all the rules. 

“Want you to moan my name tonight, baby.”

He was breaking the rules that he put in place. The rules that kept that strong divider between your physical relationship from being anywhere near romantic. 

George slid his wet fingers down your folds and pushed one inside you, groaning as he watched your head fall back against the bed and your chest rose with a shaky inhale. 

“That’s my girl.” he praised, fucking you slowly with his middle finger as his tongue teased your clit. “Just feel it.”

You hummed softly, one hand still gripping his hair as your other reached behind you to fist the pillow. You let your eyes close, forcing yourself to feel it; each of his slow pumps of his finger and the sensations of his tongue edging you on. He added a second finger, making you gasp shakily and you bit down on your bottom lip through it. 

“You don’t need to be quiet, sweetheart.” he whispered. “I want to hear you.”

He curled his fingers up, grazing your g-spot with ease, and you whimpered out his name, “Oh...George-”

“Good girl.” he praised, eyes staring up at you as he found a steady pace, flicking his fingers faster deep inside you as he tongued at your clit. 

“Oh my God.” you whined, squirming under his control. 

George’s free hand held you down by your hip, massaging over your flesh as he worked you closer, keeping his consistent pace even when your legs started to tremble. It wasn’t taking him long to get you there between the skill he housed and the fact that he had already had you once that night.

“George.” you whimpered. “George. George. George- fuck-”

He couldn’t get enough of the sound of his name when it was moaned by you, falling from your parted lips like heaven. There was nothing you wanted more than him...then to have him...to moan his name to the ceiling for the rest of time. It was overwhelming - he was overwhelming - and you pulled at his damp hair as you felt your stomach tighten, squealing quietly through the hotel room as he worked you right up to orgasm. 

But then he stopped. And pulled his fingers out. And left you pulsing with need to finish. 

You could only whimper out a “No” as he sat back from you.

George shushed you sweetly, pushing your legs back against your chest as he shuffled closer on his knees, “I got you. I’ll let you cum, baby. Just need to fuck you first.” 

He leaned over you and you let your legs link over his arms, staring at his pretty face as he licked three fingers and slid them down your body. He slicked them up your dripping cunt, smearing your arousal and his spit some more before guiding the tip of his dick between your lips. 

“Shit, I can feel your fucking heartbeat, baby girl.” George chuckled slowly, sliding the shaft of his dick up between your folds to slick himself up. 

You held onto his biceps, staring wide-eyed up at his face with your lip in anticipation between your teeth as he teased you with gentle touches. He was so hard and it only made you wetter by the second, breathing out a pleading, “Please” just before he gave you what you wanted and slowly slipped inside you. 

His dark eyes stared down at you as your mouth fell open in time with him and he stretched you out so nicely it always felt like your first time. Your nails dug lightly into his biceps and he set his hands on either side of your head as he bottomed out with a small groan. With how folded in half you were, he had to push down into you almost, situating himself on top of you until he was flush up against you and so deep you swore you could feel him in every nerve in your body. You shuttered. 

“Good?” he asked quietly. 

You nodded. 

George leaned down to kiss you, sharing soft closed mouthed kisses as he got started; pulling back and pushing into you in lazy thrusts. You hummed shakily, already having been so close that this was only bringing your orgasm closer. His eyes were locked on yours, his large hands gripping the sheets on either side of you as he found a good pace, giving you quick curling thrusts nice and deep. 

“G-George-” you moaned shakily, his name just tumbling from your lips without thought, eyes staring right up into his. 

“That’s my girl.” he praised softly. “I want you to feel it.”

You whimpered softly, moving your hands from his arms to the backs of your thighs to hold your legs back farther, eyes finding the limited space between you to watch him thrust into you. You couldn’t hold back the habitual moan that the sight forced from your chest, listening to how wet you were as he fucked into you with filthy sounds of his thighs against your skin. George leaned down closer, biting at your bottom lip messily behind your shared heavy breathing and his passionate thrusts and you opened up to let your lips lock with his in sloppy kisses. 

Your nails dragged over his hips, trying to follow his motions to savour it if at all, moaning and whining into his mouth. George broke your kiss as he grabbed your left leg and pushed it out, spreading you wider with his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh and he picked up speed, fucking into you quicker to make you shriek. 

“Geo-rge- fuck!” you gasped shakily, tossing your head back against the bed.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl.” George praised lowly, really pulling back to shove into you strongly again and again as he pulled your right leg up to his shoulder.

He used the spring of the mattress to his advantage, shoving you down by your thigh just enough for you to be pushed back into each quick thrust. You were falling breathless, gasping and moaning under him as your fingers twisted in the sheets above your head. 

“Oh my God, oh my God!” 

“Watch.” George ordered breathlessly, grabbing a handful of your damp hair to raise your head up and you stared down your body as he fucked you into the white sheets. 

“Baby.” you whimpered, toes curling in the air as he had you as he wanted you. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” His hand moved from your hair to your throat, squeezing his fingers around it until you were whimpering and your eyes were nearly rolling back. 

“George-” you cried shakily, clawing at his shoulders to try and cling onto him, feeling your whole body tingling with pleasure. “Holy...fuck…”

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” he praised tauntingly. 

You couldn’t help but let your mind whirl at his words. He had never been soft and possessive with you. His girl? You could have melted. It was easy to get caught up in it, his warm hands and pretty face and eyes that seemed to look at you like you were everything he ever wanted. But maybe that was just the bliss that coursed through his veins with him balls deep inside you until all you could think about was him. All you could ever think about was him. 

He made you cum in seconds. He knew your body too well, even if you were only together for his physical gain. His hand around your throat squeezed you just enough for your cheeks to redden and his fingers pressed bruises into your thighs as he held your shuttering body down against the bed. 

You knew perfectly well he liked it loud and honestly you couldn’t help it anyway as your head tossed back against the bed and you cried and moaned his name to the ceiling until it nearly echoed off the walls. You knew better than to leave marks on him so you could only tug at his messy brown hair still damp from the shower, hearing him groan intoxicatingly above you as your body pulsed and squeezed around him. 

The moment you managed to barely take a breath, he was pulling out of you and grabbing your arm to flip you over onto your stomach. 

“George-”

He slapped your ass hard and then shoved back inside you. 

The action had you groaning loudly, clutching the sheets in your fists, “George-”

“Take it.” he ordered. “I know you can take more.”

He leaned right down over you with his forearms on either side of your body and started bucking into you quickly, forcing a shaky groan from your throat as your eyes fluttered shut. He was breathing hard against your ear, panting and grunting softly as the bed creaked underneath him with how rough he was taking it. Flat down against the bed, your eyes were nearly rolling back, fisting the sheets in your hands as your sensitive body welcomed him all. 

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” George growled against your ear. 

“Uh huh.” you nodded quickly as his fingers found their way into your mouth. 

“Yeah, you’re fucking mine.” George licked up your neck, shooting shivers down your spine and he sunk his teeth down into your flesh where your neck met your shoulder. 

He kept his fingers in your mouth, his other hand gripping tightly to the sheets beside you, smothering his moans into your neck, as he fucked you harder until you were crying out. You felt completely on fire, tugging at the sheets and drooling around his two fingers in your mouth as his body made perfect filthy music with yours. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby, I’m gonna fucking cum.” George breathed against your ear. 

“Please.” you whined. 

“You want it?” George chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers from your mouth to grab a fistful of your hair and yanked on it just enough to make you shriek, “Where do you want it?” 

“I-Inside me.” you begged. “Cum inside me...one last time, George. Please.” 

George’s jaw clenched and he groaned against your cheek, fucking into you rougher until the headboard was nearly hitting the wall. 

“Oh my God!” you squealed, yanking at the sheets as you felt your third high of the night approaching. “Don’t stop, don’t stop! Please, please, please-“

“Jesus Christ, baby.” George hissed, “Almost there. Shit.”

He slid his hand around the front of your neck, pulling your chest off the bed to find your lips with his as he finished you both off. You tried to focus, tried to engrain the feeling of his hands on you and his breath against your skin and his deep moans against your ear; tried to remember how he made you feel lightheaded when you came, how he felt around your clenching muscles as he twitched and came inside you, how it felt to be finished and filled by him until he was sighing shakily into your neck. 

There was a momentary silence. The hotel room was perfectly silent except for your heavy breathing. 

George dusted a kiss over your neck and moved his hand from your throat and carefully pulled out of you. He helped you onto your back, making sure your hair was brushed off your face, and he stared at you for a moment. You stared back. Memorizing. Trying to remember the feelings that were already starting to fade with the pleasure. 

He shifted off of you and onto the bed beside you, moving enough to untuck the sheets and pull them up around both of your naked and flushed bodies. You rolled onto your side to face the window and he shuffled up behind you, draping a heavy arm around your waist. 

Silence. 

Your heart was racing in your chest as you stared blankly out the window across the room, the moon still low over the horizon but it was bright behind the buildings of Menton. You could see it clearly in the sky and you focused on it to try and ignore the ache in your heart. George’s hand was pressed to your stomach to hold you close and you blinked away the tears forming in your eyes as you set your hand over his. 

His lips brushed over your shoulder and left soft kisses in their wake. It was almost serene. Almost like it was where you were meant to be; in his arms. He was already in your heart. 

The reality of your situation felt like a never ending weight on your chest, crushing and suffocating, and there was nothing you could do about it. 

George held you for an hour.

It wasn’t often that you stayed together after you hooked up - after all, you were only ever there for the sex - but the way he lingered made your heart hurt worse. Part of you wished he would just go. His thumb rubbed gentle patterns back and forth over your stomach and his breath felt warm against your back right between your shoulder blades. You wanted to cry. You wanted him to leave already so you could cry. 

“George.”

Your voice was wavering. 

He shifted slightly behind you so he could lean up on his arm to look at you. He could see the tears in your eyes despite how you tried to look as nonchalant as possible. 

“What is it?” he asked softly, raising his hand from your waist to brush over your cheek. 

You took all your courage to make your final request, your final attempt, “Break up with her.”

George sighed softly, “I can’t.” 

You kept your stare straight out the window, “Why?”

“I love her.” he said without a thought. 

You bit your lip. George rested his hand on your shoulder and kissed your bare skin. 

“Do you not love me?” you asked, your quiet voice trembling in fear of his response to the question you knew you had to ask. 

“I…” George thought now, trying to word his response, “I love you in a different way.”

You exhaled deeply. 

Silence. 

“I need to go.” George finally whispered. 

“Where?” you asked. 

“We just shouldn’t drag this out.” he replied. 

You didn’t reply. You knew where he was going to go anyway. Who he was going to see. You nodded. 

There was a pause. You could feel his eyes on you. 

After a moment, when it was obvious you weren’t going to say anything else, he shifted away from you and got out of bed. You heard him walk a few paces away and start to get dressed. You could see him in the dark reflection of the open window; his silhouette pulling his boxers on and then his jeans. You heard the zip of the zipper and the shuffle of the button being done up. Each quiet second, each muted sound of his clothing returning to his body made your heart ache. 

“I already paid for the room so you can stay here tonight if you want.” George said gently, “Order room service…anything you want…it’ll all go to my card.”

You didn’t want room service. You didn’t want a hotel room. You just wanted him. 

You could barely reply with an “Okay.” 

George stared at you as he buttoned up his shirt, eyebrows furrowed in slight concern as he stared at your curled up body under the white hotel sheets. You looked small in the king size bed. He spoke your name softly and when you made no move to answer, he walked around to the side of the bed, standing between you and the moon. He crouched down to look at you and you bit your lip under his stare. 

“Don’t cry, okay? Please.” he whispered, noticing the shimmer of your eyes. 

You pulled the sheets higher to hide your face from him when you couldn’t hold back a tear that seeped into the white fabric with ease. You held your breath. 

“Why can’t it be me?” you whimpered ever so softly. 

Part of you wished he didn’t hear your pathetic pleas but he did. George sighed and ran a tired and stressed hand over his face. 

“It just…it just won’t work. In another life maybe.” 

You whimpered, “Was I only ever a meaningless fuck to you?”

George’s silence was your answer and despite his hesitation to deny your statement, you couldn’t hold back your sob. 

George breathed your name and tried to reach for you, resting his hand against your hair to try and get you to look at him, to try and console you, to try and convince himself that he was doing the right thing. 

“Just go.” you said flatly behind the sheets. 

He paused. 

“George.” you said as strongly as you could possibly muster. “Please leave.”

The weight of his hand lifted from your shoulder and the shadow of his body that the moonlight cast over you faded with his footsteps. His car keys were lifted from the table. The door opened. The door shut. 

The very second silence fell and the reality of your loneliness pressed on your naked body, you burst into tears. He left you. He left you like it was easy. Like the last few months and all your nights together and whispered blissful words meant nothing to him. 

But what did you expect when you were the side piece anyway. You were never his first choice. And you never would be. 

When the sun rose, it woke you at daybreak. The curtains were still open so the room brightened as the horizon was pooling with light. You squinted in the brightness and rolled over in the frightfully empty king size bed. The sheets lingered ever so faintly with the smell of him. Your skin was bruised by his touches. Your mind was plagued by the sound of his praise through his moans. 

That’s my girl. 

You grabbed your phone to find no missed messages but a single notification. 

georgerussell63 posted a photo

You opened it.

You let Instagram load.

Your breath froze your lungs like ice.

It felt like a dagger had lodged itself right in your chest and you could feel each layer of skin and muscle tearing and aching around the blade. It was a picture of him with her…and sickening caption stating how much he adored her…how much he loved her…how much he was wholeheartedly dedicated and wanted to show her off to the world. 

He broke your heart to go public with her. 

It shouldn’t have hurt you when your entire situation was based on lies and adultery but it was true. You had fallen in love with him over the few short months you had in secrecy. You had fallen in love with him and the little grain of rice sized life that was growing inside you. 

You wanted to tell him that night. You wanted to tell him that you were pregnant and it was his and this was his way out. But why would you tell the man who didn’t love you that you carried your shared future inside your body? You couldn’t force him to love you. And you couldn’t force him to love a baby conceived from a relationship of deceit.  

[fayes-fics]

Reprisal

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Turnabout is fair play. Sequel to Acting Up.

Warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, exhibitionism, semi-public blowjob, deepthroat, swallowing, brief d/s dynamics, brief mention of window sex.

Word Count: 2.5k

Author's Note: So, I was in the mood to write a filthy blowjob fic, and this has been sitting in my drafts for more than a year. It was inspired by an ask from the lovely @queen-of-the-misfit-toys, so it is dedicated to them. Unbetaed. Enjoy! <3

Your toes tingle from crouching in the same awkward position for what feels like the last… eternity. But revenge is a dish best served not so much cold, as when least expected.

You hear him warmly greet all his guests out in the hallway, then beckon them towards the dining room. He sits at the head of the table, just a few inches in front of you. All is unfolding exactly as you expect so far. 

You are so very grateful no one kicks you as they take their places, the convivial buzz of conversation muffled under the thick drape of tablecloth fabric. You shift slightly to get more comfortable, knowing you must wait patiently a while longer; your window of opportunity will arise after their light two-course supper.

Just two weeks ago, your husband had mercilessly made you orgasm silently in front of his entire family as he fingered you to oblivion at dinner. It is now his turn. 

As Smith serves the men dessert, you place a firm hand on Benedict’sknee when you hear him complete a sentence, and his whole leg jolts. It’s the only forewarning you give him before running both hands heavily up over his muscular thighs and grabbing for his resting cock. You feel both his legs jerk, and a hand grabs your wrist forcefully. Next to you, a spoon clatters loudly to the floor, smattering a streak of blackcurrant across the pristine oak floor.

“Butterfingers!” He jests. 

Suddenly, his face appears under the drape of cloth and morphs into one of surprise as he sees you. With a raised eyebrow, you shove a little note into his hand, you came prepared.

Do not give anything away. Now we shall see how well you play this game, my love.

You watch him quickly scan the note, and then his eyes cut back to you, trepidation, challenge, and adoration—a beguiling cocktail. Realising if he stays under too long, his guests will suspect something; he straightens but not before a loving touch to your chin.

“Could not find the blasted thing,” he jokes in explanation. “Smith, please, could you bring me a new spoon?”

As soon as the conversation begins again, you reach to squeeze him again, and he helpfully pushes forward in his chair and splays his legs wider. 

Well played, darling.

You can feel a burgeoning swelling there, and you reach for the buttons at his hip, wanting to dive right in. As soon as you peel open the front of his trousers, his cock springs free, already half-erect. The fact he never seems to wear underwear makes you smirk—your wonderful bohemian whore of a husband. 

You wrap a hand around him, and you can tell from the way his hips surge how much he appreciates it. Slowly, teasingly, you strengthen your grip. He probably suspects you will just use your hands, as he did to you. You cannot wait to see how he will react when you use your mouth on him. You intend to suck him deep and hard, not wanting to be bettered in this game of one-upmanship. 

You shuffle forward, and a hand reaches under the table to pat your shoulder affectionately. 

Without preamble, you suckle his tip into your mouth and feel his whole body tense in surprise, his thigh muscles tensing, and his fingers dig into your shoulder reflexively. Smirking to yourself, you swirl your tongue around his head as his hand travels along the top of your shoulder to cup the side of your neck, his thumb swiping a few tender strokes just under your ear. 

You feel the vibration through his body as he talks, calling upon his friend to regale everyone with tales from his recent travels. “Spare no details!” he appends with an accommodating chuckle, relaxing into his chair and pushing his hips towards you, sliding deeper into your mouth as he does. 

You appreciate his smarts for that decision - he can appear to be listening intently as a gracious host but not having to lead any conversation. 

Taking a deep breath, you sink, taking half of his cock into your mouth, revelling in the contours as they pass through your lips and the twitch of his fingers in the hair behind your ear, his warm palm cupping your jaw. So you push a little lower, as far as you can, without fear of making a noise - you do not want to give anything away by choking yourself on him, as you love to do—that will have to wait for another time, in private. This is more of a challenge for him than anything.

You still, to let him feel the heat of your mouth, enticingly dabbing your tongue over his length, before pulling up and concentrating on his sensitive head, sucking on his frenulum and letting his foreskin roll between your lips, a slight twisting action to your movements that you know he loves. He coughs, causing his cock to jerk into the roof of your mouth, his fingers sliding tentatively around the back of your head as if planning to direct your movements.

No, no, I decide what happens here, dearest.

You grab his hand away and hold it on his thigh instead, lacing your fingers with his as you lower again, his fingertips curling between your knuckles, telling you exactly how much he is enjoying this, even as he remains mostly silent and still, his friend still holding court around the table above.

“I did miss my wife, though,” the man ripostes as his story ends. “Her womanly delights were a wonderful homecoming.” 

There is a bawdy round of laughter at that.

“And what of you, Bridgerton?’ you hear one ask as you change your motion, his tip glancing the back of your mouth with each deep pull.

“What of me?” his voice a touch rough.

“You are not long married. How is that sweet, innocent, young thing?” the same man continues.

You have to tamp the urge to giggle at the irony of being called innocent while kneeling between your husband's splayed legs, mere inches from his unsuspecting friends, sucking his cock so thoroughly that your jaw aches deliciously.

If only they knew…

“She is a wonder, and I love her more than life itself,” Benedict praises after clearing his throat. A warmth blooms behind your ribs as his sweet words, such a contradiction to the utter debauchery of your actions at this very moment.

“Spoken like a true poet,” another man mocks affably. “Come now, we speak of earthier matters tonight, Bridgerton. There are no such delicate ears to overhear after all.”

You want to roll your eyes at their prurient line of talk. Even as you slide up and down on Benedict’s cock, moving faster now, wanting to truly put him to the test, as he did you, something in the way he tilts his hips fractionally tells you all your need to know.

“As I said, my wife is a wonder,” he repeats with finality, gritting his teeth. 

To his friends, it likely seems he is attempting to arrest the topic out of decorum, not the fact he is struggling with composure, which you can detect from the tinge of desperation, the twitch in his legs, the harsh grip of his hand on yours. 

As talk moves on to gambling around the table, the volume increases as the men splinter into side conversations, an opportune moment for you to be a touch daring. Sinking to his root, allowing his solid, hot tip to plug your throat, emitting a tiny moan as you do, buzzing into his pelvis. Benedict’s entire body stiffens, and you feel a crest of victory as he fights not to make a noise; his body at war, wanting to thrust, to grab, to do anything but sit still and take it.

Tougher than it looks, is it not, darling husband?

You want to chuckle, but your mouth is too full of him, a salty bead of precum trickling down your throat as you ease off to allow him a moment of reprieve and yourself a deep, calming breath. Tilting your head sideways and running suckling kisses over the underside of his cock, all the way to his sac that you lap as your other hand wraps around his tip and gives soft teasing squeezes.

His hand untangles from yours on his leg and wraps around your other hand, attempting to halt your motions, silently asking for clemency which you ignore, batting him away. He gave you no such accommodation in front of his own mother, no less.

But you take pity and decide not to string it out for much longer, his friends loud now the wine bottles are empty, one beginning to sing tunelessly, and another joining in a few bars later. Using both of your hands wound around his lower shaft, constricting in a wave motion, and your mouth sucking forcefully on his head. Encourage him to break, to come, wanting that taste to flood your mouth, a heavy throbbing sensation between your legs that is your arousal. You will need him to fuck you ruthlessly once his entertaining duties are over. Perhaps facedown right over this very table or, preferably, in your bedroom window, your nipples pebbled against the cool glass as he takes you roughly from behind, kneeling on the bench seat… the exhibitionist streak that he provokes in you flaring.

The images tumbling through your mind have you feral, sucking ferociously, pushing his thighs out wider to allow yourself greater access, crowding into him, knowing that with the level of noise in the room now, you can make some sound yourself. The back of your head glancing the underside of the table as you bob rapidly, moaning lightly, drooling on the length of his cock, your saliva pooling into his trousers as you mercilessly rise and sink, breathing heavily through your nose. You sense the tension in his legs, his vice-like grip on the table edge, every cell of his being in pure ecstasy and the agony of not being able to show it. He is usually so very vocal and lavish in his praise when you do this. 

“Come for me, my love, give it to me.” you gargle around him, his legs dancing now in a staccato quake.

Even if he cannot decipher your words, he can feel the echo over his velvet skin, and suddenly, both of his hands dive under the table and grip around your ears, finger grasping your scalp. Pushing you deep onto his cock, his whole being seeming to curl around you, his knees lifting high near your shoulders as you feel his sac tighten against your chin, a strong ripple between your lips and then a salty wave in your mouth as he comes hard.

“Are you alright, Bridgerton?” a concerned voice rings out as you swallow victoriously, then slackening your mouth to allow him to slip out, moving to lick him clean as he quivers under your tender ministrations.

“Sorry, gentleman,” his voice is ragged, harsh. “I felt a wave of nausea; perhaps a lunch of venison and oysters was not advisable. But do not fear, I'm sure it was a fleeting moment of discomfort,” he lies to cover his actions, holding one hand up in a reassuring gesture as his other hand strokes your cheek, your face resting upon his clothed thigh, leaning into his doting fingers, akin to a cat. “However, perhaps it is time we sojourned to the parlour,” he announces as you carefully rebutton his trousers. “‘Tis where I keep my best liquors, after all!!” 

You hear a rousing call of agreement, all around the sound of chairs scraping as they stand and drift towards the exit.

“I will be there, anon, gentlemen; I must speak to my valet first,” Benedict fibs, shifting in his seat but not standing.

As the chorus of voices fades, he pushes out his chair and holds up the tablecloth, staring at you slack-jawed.

“At a loss for words, husband?” you smirk, raising a coquettish eyebrow as he assists you in crawling out from under the table.

“The most delightful revenge, darling wife…” he responds, his eyes glittering. “But the use of your mouth is an escalation. I rather think a declaration of war, not a mere battle.” The very beguiling threat of more challenges to come makes your stomach flip in anticipation.

‘“Promises promises…Sir,” you goad with a wink, dusting off your dress and standing up, hoping the invocation of his play title will spark something in him.

A warm hand clamps firmly around the nape of your neck, making you gasp excitedly.

“Insolence does not go unpunished, little one,” he warns lowly. 

There it is.

“Yes, Sir,” your stance instantly submissive, swaying into him. “Perhaps, you could fuck me against our bedroom window later? So the world can see to whom I belong?”

He growls softly, and his nostrils flare as he crowds into you. “That can certainly be arranged.”

“I look forward to it, Sir.” you smile, always enjoying when he behaves domineering. 

However, with a wink, his grip releases, his mien turning gentler, nuzzling your cheek.

“I am quite the luckiest man alive. I love you, darling,” he breathes.

“And I you, husband. Now, go entertain your guests. I will see you later,” you offer, kissing his jaw as you drift towards the door, wrapped in each other's arms.

“I’d rather retire to our bedchamber with you,” he sighs wistfully into your temple.

“I shall be there waiting for you,” you vow. “Naked, except for the jewels you have given me. Thinking of you. Touching myself…” you paint a vivid picture to tempt and tease him.

You squeal as he suddenly picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, striding purposefully into the hallway, the sounds of the men in the room across the hall unmistakable.

“Smith,” Benedict addresses the man standing dutifully by the front door. “Please tell my guests they are welcome to stay but that I was, in fact, mistaken. I have taken indeed ill with a dreaded stomach bug and must retire from their company immediately,” he pronounces. 

You laugh at his lie, and he slaps your bottom for good measure.

“Will that be all, sir?” His trusty valet replies, tone world-weary.

“Please escort them out the rear entrance when they are done carousing and arrange for their carriages to pick them up in the mews. I do not wish the neighbours to witness their drunken behaviour,” he rejoinders as he begins to climb the stairs with you still dangling over his shoulder. 

Giggling, you wave to Smith as you go, who merely raises three fingers dryly in recognition—he has walked in upon you fucking you in every room of the house since your marriage; this is decidedly mundane.

And as Benedict fulfils your request sometime later - pounding into you so hard that the window rattles in its frame, you clinging to the wooden sash as you stare out across the treetops of the handsome square - you cannot help but wonder if the request to send his friends home another way was not entirely for your benefit.

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[xenteaart]

it's not about the roses

pairing: chan x reader (i wrote it with idol!chan or producer!chan in mind, but despite a brief mention of the studio it can fit any au, really) word count: 1,1k genre/warnings: er, fluff, a hint of angst if you squint but overall just tooth rotting sweetness. reader being kinda vulnerable author's note: inspired by my and @skzms 's channie brain worms, me crying over how boyfie he is in may's dms and her coming up with this little prompt. i'm manifesting a sweet healthy relationship for y'all, never settle for less <3

you were never the one for flowers, really.

it just didn’t seem anything meaningful or special, an occasional cute little bouquet on some first date you had ages ago, meeting someone completely new after mindlessly swiping them right on a dating app. plus, it’s always such a bother to take care for it. disassemble the thing, cut the stems, change the water, maybe cut off the leaves too.

at some point, you began to think of yourself as more of a practical person, taking gift giving to the point where it completely lost symbolism. always getting your friends and family either money or something they specifically asked for.

“at least, they’re actually gonna use it and get some utility out of it. ‘s good, right?” you thought to yourself, ticking a box on one of your friend’s wishlists for their birthday. it is good. no stress of choosing and endlessly pondering whether they’ll like it or not.

or is it avoiding the vulnerability of going down a more symbolic route if they don’t happen to respond to your gift the way you’d like them to after carefully planting hidden meanings and confessions all over a seemingly useless present? yeah, maybe, that’s the one, actually.

it was a regular saturday evening, no work, no plans, no big day or anything to celebrate. so, naturally, you were just spending the time at your place, resting after successfully having done all the house chores in one go.

purposelessly lying on the bed, you wondered what chris was up to. it wasn’t something out of the ordinary for you two to leave each other hanging during the day, keeping each other’s messages unread and waiting for some free time to give a thoughtful, proper reply.

but the little “1” next to your kakaotalk message was starting to feel unfriendly because... honestly? you just missed him. you wanted to know about his day, what he ate for lunch and whether work was okay today (knowing full well the man couldn’t care less about days of the week, coming over at the studio any time he needed or pleased).

distracting yourself with scrolling tiktok for a quick dopamine hit, you end up losing track of time a little. and the thing bringing you back to reality is chan’s short message, popping up on your notifications bar.

“can you come out for a sec? i’m at the door hehe~”

it takes you three times to read to finally understand what it actually means. he doesn’t have keys to your apartment yet, and you mostly hang out at his place anyways, so him coming all the way to the opposite side of the city makes your heart skip a beat.

you rush to the door and open it almost immediately, only to see channie, your channie, standing right in front of you with a nice bouquet of red roses wrapped up in kraft paper. the next thing you notice is chan’s wide smile, so sincere and endearing it makes you wanna cry on the spot.

you were never the one for flowers, really.

red roses always seemed like something either too vulgar or “easy”. something that becomes men’s first pick because they just never care enough to look for anything else and assume every girl loves it by default.

right now, however, it doesn’t feel like either of those.

the way chris is a bit nervous and really excited all at once; his hands gripping at the crunchy paper-wrapped base as he's waiting to give the flowers to you. the way his eyes sparkle and shine with warmth and genuine adoration for you. and you read past the roses, you learn so much more from it.

you learn how he’s been quiet because he was plotting a little surprise for you, trying not to be too obvious.

you see how he thought of you during the entire process, from an idea to carefully picking out the best flowers, making sure they’re fresh and pretty and will stay this way a while.

you can hear his timid little “thank you” to the florist as they exchange their bows and polite smiles.

you imagine the slightly awkward small talk with the taxi driver asking him about the occasion — the traffic and the parking area next to your building are awful, so you’re guessing he did take the taxi. and the drivers sure love to talk on the long drives, this one you had to learn the hard way.

gosh, chan looks so warm and… so soft, his lips making a familiar heartbreaking :] shape.

snapping out of your thoughts, you look into chris’s eyes and swallow down a salty lump in your throat.

“please don’t be alarmed, but i probably will cry a little,” you warn him before your voice gives out and take the roses, holding them close to your chest where the heart is bleeding.

“so pretty,” you stare down at the gentle velvety petals and sniff quietly.

chan looks worried for a moment but quickly pulls you into his embrace, stepping into the apartment and locking the door behind him.

“hey-y, i expected a smile, not your tears, baby. i didn’t upset you, did i?” to which you shake your head to reassure him.

“no, no, ‘course not! what do you mean? they’re so nice. i’m just… really happy? and i missed you. so much,” the last words come out like a weak mouse squeak as you close your eyes and let your emotions roll down your cheeks, staining your skin wet.

chan nods and takes your face into his palms, wiping away the tears and looking at you so lovingly you think you might actually break.

“i missed you too, baby. do you mind if i stay the night? i…- uh. i bought some face masks too, so we can just relax a little before bed and cuddle?”

you squeeze out a little “yeah” in response, headbutting his forehead and putting your arm around him, with another still holding the roses carefully.

“i love you,” you say slightly louder, making sure that he hears it.

maybe, gifts don’t have to be practical all the time. maybe, it’s okay to put sentimental value into simple, useless things sometimes. make them mean something.

“i love you too, baby,” chris hums still a little confused, rubbing soothing circles into your lower back and planting a chaste kiss on the bridge of your nose.

you reach for his plump soft lips and press yours against them. and even though your tastebuds can feel the salt, it’s the sweetest kiss you two have shared so far.

[uyuuma]

“ I HOPE YOU KNOW I'M FADED ”

drunk!gojo x exgf!reader ღ MDNI.

❥ summary. you and your toxic ex, gojo, broke up months ago. yet you find his drunk ass outside your apartment door.

❥ warnings. nsfw, female anatomy, toxic ex, manipulative gojo, dub con, dacryphilia, use of the name 'daddy', alcohol mentioned, tw: toxic relationship dynamic, etc.

❥ a/n. okok this one i thought of while i was bored at work, hope y'all enjoyyyy. i had to resubmit this post bc it got taken down bruh lets hope it doesnt happen again (title was inspired from the song 'spotlight' by lil peep; it is encouraged to listen while reading :3)

❥ wc. 3.2k

Your life has been rather drama-free ever since you broke up with Satoru Gojo.

After the constant arguments and severe manipulation that he had put you through, you decided enough was enough and you told him to essentially fuck off.

But if you were being honest with yourself, you weren't fully over him yet. In fact, life may have been drama-free but it became so boring after that. In some kind of fucked up way, you kind of missed the rollercoaster of emotions he put you through.

That's just how things are you guess, prioritizing your peace over that man was the healthier decision in the long run. You blocked his number and all of his social media as well as ghosting all of your mutuals, like Suguru and Shoko. It was a tough decision but you were tired of them asking about you and Satoru. He's done enough damage to your life already.

It's been radio silence since then, wonderful peace and quiet for two whole months. You found yourself taking up old hobbies again, exercising regularly, and even talking to other men. Life was right back on track and you were on your way to properly healing.

Unfortunately, it wasn't enough because he still knew where you lived. You didn't really bank on the fact he would come banging on your door. You believed he would just move on, since he is Satoru Gojo after all. Any woman would be head over heels for the handsome man, even if he was toxic as fuck.

But no, god dammit it all, he is still stuck on you.

Loud banging could be heard on your apartment door. It scared the living daylights out of you when you shot up from beneath your covers. You thought that there was someone trying to break in or perhaps your building manager was trying to alert you to a fire. You immediately rolled out of bed and ran to the door.

That's when you heard that cursed voice.

"Open uppppp!" the voice slurred on the other side.

You groan an exasperated "Noooooo fuckkkk!" under your breath after realizing it's your ex.

"Baby please... I know you're in thereeee" He said in a joking manner.

You open the door a crack, not unhooking the chain lock. "Go away, I told you I never wanted to see you again." You said coldly. Your voice was also a tad raspy, as you had just woken up from a deep slumber.

"Baby don't be like that, let daddy in will you?" He purred through the crack of the door. You could tell he was under the influence of something and it caused you to roll your eyes.

"Fuck no, now leave before I call the cops." You threatened as you went to shut the door.

The door came to a halt with a loud 'THUD'. Satoru grabbed the chain lock with his fist and he held it open before you could shut it. You gasp and jolt back from the audacity that this guy had.

"No no no no no, you're not listening t'me. I wanna talk to you." He said as he tried to pull the chain off the door.

You knew he had the strength to do it too and you didn't feel like replacing it so you annoyedly invited him in.

"Christ, fine but only for a bit! Do you understand me?" You said sharply, unlocking the chain.

"Anything you want, mama." He said grinning, he swiped the door open wide to let his towering frame through the doorway.

You click your tongue in irritation as you quietly close the door behind him. "What do you want, Satoru? It is 3 in the fucking morning!" You whisper yelled.

"Shhhhshhhshh" He spat out at you, putting his long finger against your lips, hushing you. "I just missed you so much, hehe." He found it amusing you were getting angry and it only triggered you more.

"Don't touch me, you're not my boyfriend anymore." You said smacking his hand away from you.

"Says who?" He asks confusedly. He tilts his head to the side.

"Says me!" You said trying not to scream too loud and wake the neighbors.

"Pshhh nah ah!" He says as he smirks. "I say we just forgive each other and move on, huh?" He proposes the idea, with full confidence.

You let out a laugh in disbelief. "Each other? You prick, you're the one that manipulated me and used me! If anything you should be begging me for forgiveness! And you can start by leaving!" Your voice was starting to get louder, but you were beyond infuriated right now.

"What are y'talking about? Don't start with this crazy shit." He said with a twinge of irritation in his voice. He slouched a lot worse than usual, his hands stuffed into the pocket of his sweats. He was wearing that stupid compression shirt that would always make your head spin when you saw it.

He also reeked of alcohol. It was safe to say that the dude was drunk. It took a lot just to get him tipsy, so for him to be this drunk it must've meant he's been at it all night.

"Look baby, I just came from Sukuna's house party and it made me realized how much I missed youuu." he said, his eyes all glossy.

Oh? So, he decided to crawl back after drinking himself silly at some house party? This guy couldn't get anymore pathetic, you thought to yourself. "You stink of booze, get out of my apartment you bum." You said pointing out the door. "I don't need you ruining my life again."

"C'mon don't be like that princess, you know the only thing I'd ever ruin is your slutty little holes." He said, smirking. He grabbed your chin with his hand and brought you close to his face. You could smell the whiskey still hot on his breath.

You were so beyond done with this. "You're repulsive, do not talk about me like that." All of the emotions you had that you've suppressed came back and all at once. You could feel that all too familiar burning in your eyes and throat.

You went silent and smoothed over your hair with your hand, trying to soothe yourself. Do not let him make you cry again. You took a few deep breaths before continuing.

"Look I know you're fucked up, but you need to call an Uber and leave immediately." You said looking up into his eyes to show how serious you were being.

He just continued to give you this cocky smirk while tuning you out. He just won't fucking listen to you.

"Ok! Well here this shit is again! You never take me seriously! It's like I'm this big fucking joke to you!" You yelled out, letting your emotions start to swell inside your chest.

Tears began to spill from your eyes as months and months of frustrations started to unravel. You looked down and brought your sleeve to wipe your tears. "Well, I won't take it anymore! I-" Suddenly you found that your breath was suddenly snatched from your lungs, after looking back up at him.

Satoru was palming his hard-on while you were sobbing. He was getting off to your tears. The fucking bastard.

"Are you─!" You were cut off by Satoru's moans.

"Fuck, you are so sexy when you get all emotional like that. God, I just want to shut you up with my cock." He said eyes fixated on your face.

"You cannot be serious right now!" You've had enough of his shit, you shoved him, trying to get him out the door.

"Oooh playin' rough with me princess?" He doesn't budge from you trying to push him. "Aww, if only you weren't so weak." He says as he wraps his hand around your wrist and pulls it up. He yanks your hand above your head and watches you squirm.

He looks thoroughly amused and cracks a smile when you fight back.

"Aw I miss this, us arguing and fighting. It always gets my blood pumping." he said, shoving you to your knees.

You tried to fight where this was inevitably going to end up, but it was no use. Satoru was just too damn strong and too damn convincing.

He hisses as he frees his dick from his sweats. It bobs up and down from the sudden release. Your eyes follow it, mesmerized with how big it was. It's been a few months since you last saw it. You had so many conflicting thoughts racing through your head as you silently knelt on the floor below him.

"Suck." He commanded, holding his tip to your lips. His precum lubricated your soft lips, making you feel sticky already.

You shook your head and used your hands to push away from it using his thighs as leverage. You didn't want to give into him, not after everything.

"No fuck- c'mon baby just open wide." He cooed out to you. Even now he was deciding everything for you. He decided you were going to suck his dick and that's what you were going to do.

It was a struggle between you pushing away and him grabbing your hair and pushing your head down onto his cock. Between his groans in anticipation and your whines in protest, he became increasingly impatient.

"No no no, shhhshhh... that's a good girl." He hiccupped. Satoru successfully got your mouth to take his tip. He grunted and tilted his head back slightly, feeling you slowly but surely take his length.

"Oh fuck, I missed your mouth so much baby." He purred as he parted your hair out of your face.

You closed your eyes in defeat as tears began sliding down your cheeks. He held your head still with one hand gripping on your pony tail and pumped himself in and out of your mouth.

"Fuuuuck, no matter where I looked I couldn't find another girl who satisfied me like you do." He started to invade your throat with his length, making your esophagus become sore and your lungs burn from the lack of air.

You choked on his cock, saliva dripping down your chin and neck, as well as down his balls. Your fingernails dug deep into his thighs, trying to either push yourself off or for leverage. One of the two, you didn't know anymore. All you knew was that little warm sensation that built between your legs. Your body was betraying you, you were supposed to hate this man, to not let him abuse you anymore. But fuck, his cock hit all the right places in your tight throat. Your eyes begin to cross as you struggle to breathe.

"Shit, you swallow me so good. Mmm, tell me you want daddy to cum down your throat." He said fucking into your mouth, your lewd slurping sounds were very pleasing to his ears.

You let out a muffled moan in response, obviously you couldn't say anything but that was enough of an answer for him.

"Oh fuck, take my load." he ordered, his abs flexing as he came. He groaned as he painted your throat white with his seed. You could feel the hot, sticky fluid make its way down your throat as you swallowed it all.

More tears fell onto your cheeks. "Hate you, 'toru." you whined out, throat still raw from his dick forcing its way in.

Satoru gave you that cocky smile again and tapped his cock against your cheek as you pouted. "Still harddd." he sang. "Wanna be a doll f'me and get on all fours?" He said wiping the spit off your chin.

You were so disappointed in yourself. This man was forcing himself back into your life and all you could do was watch as it happened. You looked up at him and see that faded look in his eyes. They say that drunk words were sober thoughts, has he been wanting to do this for two months?

Despite everything, you did exactly as he said. You turned around and lowered yourself onto all fours. Truth is, your pussy was aching for him and it had been since you guys broke up. Those men couldn't satisfy you and neither could your dildo, at least not like how Satoru can. Perhaps this whole situation was inevitable.

You pull down your panties and shamefully spread your pussy out for him, showing how you were already wet and ready for him to stretch you out.

"Aww, baby you're already soaked. I haven't even touched you down there yet." He said kneeling down to take a closer look. He took his hand to grip your ass and moved his thumb to swipe a line against your cunt.

You shuddered from the satisfaction of finally being touched where you were aching. You could hear shuffling from behind you and felt a sudden wet, warmth swipe up and down on your clit.

You gasped and clasped your hand over your mouth in response to Satoru suddenly eating you out. How polite of him to at least warm you up.

There was something so feral about the way he ate you out. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but he was sloppily sucking on your clit making your legs shake from the pleasure. He began humming and moaning as his tongue entered you, pumping in and out. His fingernails were digging into the fat of your ass as he spread your cheeks nice and wide for him.

Your arms wanted to give out from under you, but the bastard chose to fuck you on the cold hardwood flooring in the foyer. So you struggled to hold your head up, as if that would protect your dignity.

Satoru parted his mouth from your now slick folds, spit dripping all over your floors. "Mmm, baby I missed tasting you." He said, lust dripping from his voice almost as much as the saliva down his chin. He wiped the drool and slick from his mouth and gave your ass a swift 'SMACK'. You yelped out from the sudden sting.

"You ready baby? This is my favorite part." He cooed into your ear as he rutted his erection against your pussy.

"Yes 'Toru, fuck me please." You whined out. You were already gone, you just wanted the sweet release of the growing knot in your tummy. It was far too late to fight back at this point, all you could think about was him rearranging your guts.

He didn't need to hear any other words of confirmation as he aligned his throbbing cock with your dripping cunt. He pushed the tip in and let a shaky moan out along with a hiss.

"Fuck, always so tight." He groaned while thrusting just the tip in and out of your hole. His hands were still gripping your ass at this time, but he moved his left hand to grip onto your shoulder, lowering you onto his cock.

You let out such sweet moans and whimpers as he watched your pretty cunt swallow him up. He was mesmerized, trying not to cum at the very sight of it. He gave a drawn out sigh in relief from feeling your gummy walls clamp onto him.

He repositioned his large hands to have a strong grip on your waist as he started to thrust in and out of you. It was a slow rhythm at first, nice and sensual like he was trying to massage your insides.

It drove you insane, feeling him drag in and out. He had your back arched, so you folded your arms and laid on them. You scraped the floors with your nails as you felt him start to smack his hips against your ass.

"Mmm... fuck Satoru..." you mewled out, shoulder blades pushing together as your back curved in.

"M'gonna ruin your little pussy." He said making his thrusts rougher. "Gonna punish you for leaving me." He grunted out through clenched teeth. He let out a breathy moan as he leaned over you, slamming his hips flush against your ass.

You let out a sharp squeal as he jackhammered your cervix at this new angle. This squeal pleased him so much that he chuckled and said, "Keep making those cute little sounds."

He caged you beneath him by putting all of his weight on his left arm, holding his hand steadily on the floor by your head. He took his right arm and roughly took your arms from beneath your head. He pinned them both behind your back as he relentlessly pounded into you. This way he could have complete control over your body.

Your face was now met with the cold floor. Your cheek was squished and your mouth agape, drooling from the mind-melting ecstasy. You were starting to see stars, eyes not being able to focus on a single thing. Not that you could see through your tears anyways. You felt your climax approaching rapidly, pussy clenching him uncontrollably.

He started to curse under his breath as his thrusts became more shaky and messy from the pressure. You could tell he was nearing his orgasm too.

"Fuck baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel you squeeze me." He said, his words coming out super slurred. You couldn't see his expression but you could tell from his voice that he was not only drunk but also pussy-drunk.

Your hands clenched from behind your back and your whole body seized up as you reached your limit. "F-fuck m'gonna cum daddy!" You screeched out, forgetting it was four in the morning. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you gasped. Your whole body spasmed as you felt that sweet release you had been craving for months.

"Oh shit baby-" He cut himself off as he bit down on his lip. He hunched his entire body over you and his hands flew to grip onto your hips. "M'gonna fucking fill you so deep" He whimpered as he slammed your ass tightly against his pelvis. You could feel him twitch against you as that familiar warmth invades your pussy.

His curses are much louder this time around, slurring out profanities as thick ropes of cum coat your walls.

You gave one last whine before completely collapsing under him. "Satoru..." you said softly, very much out of breath.

He was silent for a second, slowly pulling himself out of your sore, leaking hole. He took his thumb and plugged your cunt so that his precious fluids stayed inside.

You squeaked from the feeling and laid on the floor in defeat. Your whole body was spent and you felt as if you could pass out on the floor.

He stood up and lifted his sweats back up. "C'mon princess lets go back to bed." He said kneeling back down to pick you up.

"I hate you, Satoru." You said meekly. You meant it, yet you didn't at the same time.

"Love you too baby." He said picking you up, bridal style.

He carried you to your bed, slipping under the covers with you. He spooned you and rested his face in the crook of your neck.

His scent was intoxicating, cologne mixed with musk and alcohol. Fuck, you really did miss him after all.

Whatever, you'll deal with kicking him out in the morning. Or not. You weren't sure anymore as you drifted back to sleep.

[forthewomenonly]

Tara?

Warnings: NSFW, smut, GAYS, Tara Carpenter x reader, fem reader implied no pronouns used, G!P smut, G!P Tara, somnophilia, horny Tara, perv Tara, starts smutty so be warned a/n: First fic! inspired by @deep-fried-egg ��s Hope She Doesn’t Know Part 2 “Fuck-please” Tara whimpers out to no one as her hips furiously roll into her own hand, her breathy moans reverberating throughout her bedroom. Silently thanking Danny for taking Sam out of their apartment as she’s now finally able to sate the gnawing arousal clouding her senses without the fear of her older sister barging in.  “y/n baby please...” the brunette whimpers. Various Polaroid pictures lie strewn about  on top of Tara’s bedsheets. Pictures of you...her best friend. Tara knows it’s wrong to be masturbating to her best friend but right now she couldn’t care less as she imagines you writhing underneath her, moaning her name with the same intensity as she’s moaning your own. Tara pumps her dick faster feeling her body tremble as she uses her free hand to grasp onto her sheets looking for some sort of purchase to ground herself.  “fuck, fuck, fuck-” she airily gasps out as her orgasm builds rapidly at the bottom of her stomach. Tara swipes her thumb over her leaking slit, squeezing the head of her cock before returning to her ministrations. It doesn’t take long for her to let out a loud final moan before cumming all over her hand and stomach.  Tara’s phone lights up as your name appears on her screen.  you: be over in 10 Tar, I got lots of snacks for us dw ;) The fucking movie marathon, great. Now she has to change into a shirt that isn’t stained with the remnants of her previous orgasm, and figure out a way to hide her once again hardening cock from you.   --- The movie is fucking boring Tara thinks as she watches the film playing in her living room. You couldn’t disagree more as you watch intently, eyes never wavering from the screen. Your legs are thrown carelessly over Tara’s lap, an act that wouldn’t be deemed unusual for two best friends had Tara not been sporting a growing erection in her pants.  It takes less than half an hour before you’re out cold on the Carpenter’s couch. Tara’s erection is now fully formed as your calf presses against it from your sprawled out position. Every slight movement and twitch from your slumber has Tara’s blood rushing from her her brain and straight to her dick. Tara doesn’t think twice before she starts moving her hips up into your leg. Just like how she doesn’t think twice before fishing her cock out of her boxers and rubbing her painfully hard shaft slowly.  It’s wrong. And Tara feels so fucking dirty, but she can’t help but analyze the features on your resting face as she gets herself off. You look so peaceful just laying there and so fucking ethereal Tara thinks as she speeds up her movements.  Tara’s all but humping her hand at this point and she’s sure that she looks absolutely pathetic. She knows she’s not far off from her impending orgasm, and when you stir in your sleep it only spurs Tara on faster. Tara releases all over her hand and yet another shirt. She whimpers not at all quietly and rubs herself through the aftershocks of her orgasm. The shorter girl suddenly is hit with a sobering dose of post-nut clarity as she faces the slutty and gross nature of her actions. She’s so distracted by her self-reprimanding thoughts as she barely hears you shift around again on the couch.  Her head whips to the side as she hears a groggy voice snap her out of the trance she’s in. “...Tara?”  Fuck.

[bloodlinesgirly]

Make me yours-Roman Reigns

sort of sub roman x female reader

very much inspired by some of @hunnidmilly ‘s sub roman hcs

word count- 1158

warnings: smut

not proofread (when is it ever)

“honey please” , shaky breaths rattle through his chest, you can feel the muscles in his thighs flex under your elbows.

“please what baby?” you look up at him from in between his legs, your voice is sultry as you tease him. Having him like this is rare, sweat beads at his forehead, his face slightly illuminated by the moon peaking through the curtains. his dick hard and untouched in his pants. roman thrust his hips up into nothing, trying to find some sort of friction to ease the throbbing.

“need you.” he lets out a breath he’s been holding. “cmon pretty girl…please” he reaches his hands down to cup your face, rubbing your cheek with his thumb which you take into your mouth. your tongue swirls around it the exact way he wishes it would his dick. a string of saliva follows your lips as you let go to speak.

“take em’ off baby” you say quietly. roman lets out a groan as you slide your hands down the slick material of his pants. immediately his fingers fumble with the button, popping it open, sliding them down to his ankles before kicking them to the side. you sit up a little, attaching your lips to his neck, leaving wet kisses down his abs until you reach the band of his boxers. you grip him through the fabric, letting your tongue slide over his bulge

“quit playin with me ma…mnhm” his hands fight to stay at his sides, wanting nothing more than to push his dick down your throat, but tonight wasn’t about him being in control. It wasn't about his fun. it was about yours. it’s your turn to have your way with him, touch him the ways you wanted to, give his mind the chance to slip away and allow you full control. there’s something so picturesque about hearing a man once so dominant and controlling, plead for your touch, whine and whimper, relish in it like they could never get enough. these kinds of nights are sacred…and you cherished every last minute. finally your fingers slipped into his waistband, you free his cock, red and pulsing in your hand, precum leaked from his tip down his shaft. your eyes locked as you lick up his shaft. once you reach his tip you swipe it along your lips, coating them with the wetness that threatens to dribble.

“shit baby…” roman sighs. truthfully this was more for your pleasure than his, as much as he enjoyed it. with every sound that fell from his lips he watched your thighs clench, the dark spot in your underwear growing as you dripped for him.

“you love this shit don’t you? cmon mama make me yours ” his words came out as almost a whisper. you gripped his cock with one hand, stroking him slow. your fingers grazed his tip, making him shudder.

“tell me how you want it, handsome…let me give you what you need” his lips are parted, letting out soft gasps, his gaze locked on your hand working his cock.

“f-fuck faster baby…mhm yeah just like that” he moaned as you stroked him a little faster. you let a string of spit fall from your lips onto his tip, your hand creating filthy wet sounds against him as his thick carmel shaft became slick with your spit.

“look at me daddy.” you coaxed his eyes back down to you. his eyes locked with yours as you took his tip into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, taking more of him down your throat each time.

“nmmf-fuck honey” he whimpered. his dick was big, almost too big for you to take. you gagged around his him, sending vibrations through his cock as you tried to take him deeper down your throat. roman moaned when he felt your throat contract. his hands moved to your hair, pulling it back from your face. he wouldn’t push this time around, he let you take your time. these were the times roman allowed himself to feel everything, the way your tongue swirls deliciously along the vein on the bottom side of his dick. he felt your nose hit the hair at his base when you finally took him to the hilt. he could feel you gag and he could feel the breaths you took to calm yourself down. the pleasure he felt was overwhelming. you bobbed your head faster, your throat starting to relax a little. you could tell roman was close, his grip in your hair got a little tighter, his breaths were ragged, his abs flexed and unflexed rapidly.

“oh shit, ah fuck baby, i’m gonna cum.” his head was thrown back, he lifted his hips, thrusting deeper into your mouth.

“i’m cummin’ mama- hahhh im cummin baby” he hissed, thrusting one last time, pushing his cock all the way down your throat and holding it there. he whimpered and groaned as he came, all of it spurting down your throat in thick, hot ropes. you released his dick with a pop, you try to catch your breath as you look up at him. his head was tilted back, long strands of his black hair stuck to the sides of his face.

“you okay love?” you ask. once you stand up he pulls you into his lap, his lips finding yours immediately. the kiss is slow, roman’s tongue darting out against your lips as if he’s asking for permission. he can feel you smile on his lips, causing a grin to pull at his own.

“thank you sweetheart” he whispers, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. he tucks his head into the crook of your neck, you shudder as he leaves hot kisses on your shoulder. his hands wander from waist to your underwear, his fingers sliding along the damp fabric.

“look how hard this pussy’s cryin for me…” he pulls your underwear to the side, collecting your wetness on his fingers before bringing them to his lips. “just let me taste her baby…promise i’ll be good afterwards.” his fingers push into you, your body welcoming him with ease.

“nmf- baby” you reach down to grab his wrist but he quickly pushes it away.

“i’m yours baby…take me whenever you want, just let me make you cum…please” his lips press against your ear, his breath hot as he speaks.

“fuck okay” you sigh, rocking your hips against his fingers. roman’s favorite thing was knowing he made you feel good. never will he ever let you leave unsatisfied, tonight was no different. if he came once you were gonna cum twice.

the rest of the night was spent basking in each other bodies until you found yourself tucked into his side, his arm resting heavy on your waist. His warmth was comforting. his hand rubbed your back soothingly, lulling you to sleep.

“thank you for taking care of me…my sweet girl” he murmured before finally falling asleep himself.

[gfguren]

pro hero!bakugou x reader | fluff, snowball fights, bickering, husband!bakugou, just a short lil drabble, it snowed this morning and i was ✨inspired✨ | cw: cursing

-shoveling snow with bakugou turns into shoveling snow at bakugou-

It's too cold for this, too early; the sky is still pink and you're out here shoveling snow in your pajama pants. You have a serious case of stink eye when you turn to glare down your husband from the other end of the driveway.

He's bundled up in at least three layers, nose and chin tucked beneath that red scarf you bought for him two winters ago. His brow is fixed in a near permanent state of grump; you'd think him cute if you weren't so miffed with him right now.

"Can't we do this later, Kats?" You fake your best pout, bat your eyelashes when he shoots you a look from over his shoulder.

"We're halfway done, quit y'r whinin'."

You resist the urge to stamp your feet like a child. "But it's cold!"

"Maybe if someone had salted the driveway last night like I'd asked ya, neither of us'd be out here right now, hah?"

You dig your shovel into the snow, cross your arms across your chest, indignant. "Maybe if someone had picked some up from the store like I asked, I could have."

He snorts, turning his back to you and continuing his warpath through the snow. You glare as hard as you can, hope he can feel it through every stupid layer of his stupid coat. He doesn't, of course.

So you swipe a chunk of snow from the sidewalk, roll it into a neat little ball, and launch it, hard as you can in his direction. He turns halfway, hero senses kicking in just a moment too late; he tries to catch it, but it splats against his forearm.

You smirk, feeling victorious in your own right, rectified after being dragged out of bed at six in the morning.

But you'd forgotten one teensy detail: your husband is a sore loser.

Katsuki's eyes narrow and you squeal when the shovel falls from his hands, turning on your heel in a desperate attempt to flee. You don't get far, tripping over the mound of snow you'd just shoveled, planting yourself face first into the cold.

He's on you in seconds, shoving a handful of snow past the scarf he wrapped you up in this morning and down the back of your shirt. It freezes your neck, chills all the way down your spine.

"Katsuki!"

You think you hear him laugh. "What? Start somethin' y'can't finish?"

That has you kicking.

You huff a breath of hot air, wriggling your legs free and crawling out from under his body weight. He let's you if only to pin you back down the moment you manage to turn around and prop yourself up on your elbows. "Let me go, you big oaf!"

His knees fix your hips to the ground, gloved hands reaching down to scoop up a handful of snow. It crunches menacingly as he rolls it from one hand to the other, red eyes narrowed and nose scrunched up as if he's annoyed.

"Wait, wait, wait." You gasp, mittens holding his hands still. "'m sorry!"

"Yeah? I bet y'r real sorry." He shakes free, raises the newly formed snowball with one hand. "Now that y'r at my mercy."

"You win, okay, m' sorry Katsuki! Let's just finish shoveling, alright?" You slide back slowly and Katsuki quirks a brow, entirely suspicious. "Really! I'll make us both hot cocoa after and we can watch that stupid movie you like and, and—I'll only complain a li-ttle bit."

You slide back fully, eyes trained on the snowball in his fist as you get to your knees. Carefully, innocently you fold your hands in your lap, give Katsuki the sweetest smile you can muster. You lean forward, bump your cold nose to his. He sighs, eyes falling shut. He thinks you're going to kiss him, misses the way you grin, impish and satisfied.

In one quick motion, you take both hands and shove two handfuls of snow into his lap, sprinting through the yard before he can recover.

"Get back here y'damn tease!"

You turn back to stick your tongue out at him, met with an expression of both frustration and amusement. You're all but six steps away when the first snowball hits, seven on the second. You turn around to scowl at him. "You're mean!"

"I'll show ya 'mean'." And then he's trudging through the snow after you.

Your chest trembles, the last bouts of laughter fading like ripples in the water. Katsuki is sat beside you, snow caked to his jeans and in his hair. You smile, reaching over to dust the frost from the crown of his head. "Warm bath?"

"Y'comin'?" he mumbles into the palm of his hand, as if he's nonchalant, unenthused. You know better.

You can't help but tease him. "If you finish shoveling the driveway."

He scoffs, half-heartedly swats a bit of snow your way. "This was y'r plan from the start, wasn't it?"

You grin, removing your mittens before smooshing his cheeks between your palms. "Maybe." You press your lips to his before he can weasel away. "Or maybe I wanted to sleep in with you on your day off instead of shoveling our stupid driveway."

He frowns at that, takes your wrists in his big palms. "Never know when I might get called in, villains don't rest just 'cus 's my day off."

"Well they better 'cus you're mine today. I don't wanna hear a thing about heroes or villains, or 'Dynamight' for the next 24 hours." You press a pointed fingertip to his chest before pulling him in by his scarf and kissing him fully. "Got it, Bakugou Katsuki?"

He grunts, wrapping his arms around your middle and nosing at the crook of your neck. "Got it. Y'rs." His hands snake under your coat, beneath the hem of your nightshirt, gloves still caked in snow. You hiss at the cold, glaring at him. He grins. "I'll go heat up the water."

[sincerelyrki]

strawberries & cigarettes

Heeseung “teaches” you how to shotgun

pairing : nonidol!heeseung x fem!reader

warnings + trope : cigarettes. smoking (heeseung + reader). profanity. heeseung calls her “good girl” like once (couldn’t help myself). (very slight) suggestive themes. strangers x ???.

wc : 1k

a/n : not sure how to feel about this but it’s one of my rafe cameron inspired fics >< (i have like 3 more wips inspired by him…)

perm written tl : @vousty

“Open your mouth.” You momentarily hesitated, lips barely parting while your wide eyes blinked up at the man standing tall in front of you.

His dark eyes were staring straight into your own, narrowing in disappointment at your hesitance. His head tilted to the side with a click of his tongue, lips pulling into a small smirk.

“What? Can’t do it on your own?” Heeseung quietly scoffed, his smirk growing watching the way your body reacted to his degrading tone.

His eyes fell from yours, landing on your pressed thighs. His tongue wetted his lips with a singular swipe, his chest growing heavy at your innocent expression.

His eyes met yours again, irises darkened with an unrecognizable look. 

Heeseung raised his free hand towards your face, the backs of his fingers gently caressing the apples of your cheeks before he pressed his thumb against your bottom lip, pressing it open. 

His thumb practically burned into your skin, your mouth opening under his control. He brought the cigarette towards your mouth, placing it against your lips.

Heeseung didn’t make a move to push it closer, allowing you to tilt your head forward to take it- which you did within seconds.

You closed your mouth around it, holding it in place as you looked up at him from under your lashes as if you were waiting for his approval. 

For a moment a small smile replaced his smirk, his eyes softening. “breathe it in.” Heeseung gave you a reassuring nod, his free hand wrapping around the back of your neck to keep you in place. 

Your eyes closed as the air entered your lungs, your chest burning with the sudden sensation. The feeling numbed your racing heart, a blanket of warmth filling your head. 

“Hold it in.” Your eyes reopened, confusion replacing the earlier euphoric feeling. Heeseung pulled the cigarette from your lips, flicking the ash away from you. 

He studied you for a minute, watching the way your hands wrapped around the bottom fabric of his jacket. The urge to praise your patience grew stronger, the words nipping on his tongue the longer he held them back. 

“Good girl, you’re doing s’good for me.” His soft cooing caused another wave 

He bent at the waist, his lips coming down centimetres from yours. His nose slightly pressed against your own for no longer than a second, his warm breath hitting against your lips with his soft exhale. 

“Shotgun it to me.” He demanded, his parted lips ghosting over yours. At the soft demand, your lips opened on their own, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you gently exhaled the smoke into his mouth.

Heeseung’s hand moved from the back of your neck, fingers wrapping around the bottom of your jaw as he held you in place- stopping you from leaning away from him while he held the smoke in his mouth.

His head tilted down, hair falling over his forehead as he blew the smoke in the opposite direction. 

You wrapped your hand around Heeseung’s wrist, his head moving back up to face you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t want to shotgun me back?” 

Heeseung’s confusion melted at your teasing words, his eyes rolling in response before he pushed himself against you. “You wanted me to?”

You shrugged in response, hand falling from his wrist. “I wouldn’t have minded.” 

Heeseung nodded at you, his expression unmoving as he looked across both of your eyes, to your lips, and back to your eyes. “Tell you what…” He trailed off, raising the cigarette towards his lips once again. 

You could feel his chest expand with his inhale, your palms pressing against his lower stomach while you leaned yourself further into his hold.

He once again blew the smoke away from you, his jawline accentuating under the dimmed street lights. “Tell me your name and I’ll shotgun you.” He stated in a completely serious tone, his back straightened as he waited for your response.

After a few seconds of silence, Heeseung grew more impatient, his face turning down the longer you stood in silence. “Hm? What do you say, strawberry?” 

You shot him a teasing smile, eyebrows raising in surprise, “Strawberry?” 

Heeseung nodded, his expression matching yours as he raised the cigarette toward your mouth again. “Your lipgloss.” He didn’t care to explain further, slotting the cigarette between your lips once again. 

He bit his lip as he watched you, his eyes scanning your face one final time.

You kept your eyes on him while you exhaled away from him, his hand disconnecting from your face when you took a step back. 

“Maybe another time.” You watched his face fall as you answered his question, biting your lip to keep the smirk from growing wider.

You pushed off the wall, hands falling from his lower stomach.

Before you could turn your back to him, his hand wrapped around your wrist. 

“Don’t you want to know my name?” He tried again, his voice hopeful. You pretended to think about his question, head tilting to the side before ultimately shaking your head, “Not really.”

He scoffed in shock, an amused eyebrow raising at you, “Let me rephrase, what’s your name?”

Once again, you turned your back to him. His hands fell to his side, palms cold without your warmth. 

You didn’t say another word before beginning to walk away, straight towards the club entrance located around the corner. 

“I’m Heeseung, I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

He watched as you ignored him, his eyes glued to your back. He almost thought you hadn’t heard him, preparing to call out to you again.

But right before you turned the corner, you stopped. He watched with bated breath as you turned back towards him, a singular hand reaching up to push your sleeve to the side, fingers grabbing something from beneath your bra strap. 

His jaw dropped when he realized what the unknown item was, a red hue crawling up his chest as he watched you place the blunt between your lips.

You winked at him once, lighter highlighting your lips. “It’s nice to meet you, Lee Heeseung.” And then you were gone. 

“Fuck.” His head fell back against the wall, a giddy feeling spreading across his body. 

It only took a minute for your words to register, the realization that you had already known his last name causing him to stand straight again. 

[starrystevie]

this is all @wynnyfryd's fault. inspired by my own post of complaining about work.

"rough day?"

steve can't help it, okay? every time that eddie rounds the corner to the in house coffee shop with those sad brown eyes and slumped shoulders, he can't just not intervene.

eddie perks up slightly, bringing his gaze from the floor up to steve's face peering from behind the espresso maker, and his frown worsens. "you could say that."

he sounds pitiful, really he does, and it could all be an overexaggerated act but it still tugs at steve's heartstrings none the less. eddie's suit doesn't fit him, the off white theming of the hotel doesn't fit him, the fake smile he puts on for the stuck up customers doesn't fit him. how eddie ended up in the luxury hotel world, steve will never know, but the one thing he does know is-

"could a cookie make it better?"

- that eddie's eyes lighting up at the promise of a warm chocolate chip cookie makes the monotony of being in a dead end job worth it. eddie gives him a smile somewhere between watery and strained that steve takes like a punch to the heart and already has the tongs out before he gets an answer.

"i'm just feeling run down," eddie starts, the ambient coffee shop soundtrack drowned out by the convection oven whirring to life on the counter. "my whole day has been one thing after another, running into red tape and things that i can't finish and it's just ugh!"

there's a thud. steve turns around to check that his famous chocolate chip cookies aren't burning to a crisp in the warmer for one second and eddie is already throwing his head onto the counter. steve has an arm out to pull him up by the hair before he can tell himself not to. instead of giving into that thought, he slides it across the counter so when eddie picks his head up and attempts to slam it down once more, it at least has a softer cushion than granite.

"hey, quit that," he tuts out and eddie goes from bonking his head on the back of steve's hand to turning it so his cheek is resting on it instead. his big brown eyes are peering up at him at an awkward angle and his cheeks are flushed from weird blood flow and yet he's still somehow the most beautiful customer steve has ever had at his counter.

"i just don't think this job is right for me anymore, y'know?" eddie's voice is a little muffled from where the side of his face is smooshed on steve's hand and it breaks his heart in the process. with his free hand, steve turns ever so gently to grab the cookie from the oven with his tongs, plops it onto a plate on the counter and slides it in front of eddie's face.

"i think if anyone could understand not being the right fit for your job, it'd be me.

he doesn't get an answer in the verbal sense. what he gets is a kiss on the back of the hand that sparks like lighting against his skin. eddie is still slumped over on the counter, his back curled over like an uncomfortable shrimp, but he has a glimmer of something in his eyes that makes steve feel as warm as the cookie on the counter.

"thanks for the cookie," eddie mutters and steve would be lying if he said his blush didn't match the one creeping up eddie's neck. "i'll see you tomorrow?"

"yeah," he breathes back. "hopefully when neither of us need cookies to feel better."

eddie unfurls, standing up straight and taking a bite of the cookie that leaves a dab of chocolate on his lip. he swipes at it with his finger and rubs it on his too nice pants and walks away, giving steve a bashful wink over his shoulder. "it's not the cookie that makes me feel better, stevie."

[aventurinemybeloved]

Summary: Aventurine wouldn't mind being your personal mannequin forever if it meant having you this close to him

Fem!reader who's a popular fashion designer all throughout the universe, currently just "friends" with aventurine here, more like sugar daddy tho- very self indulgent because I have my oc in mind while writing this lol

"Not that I'm questioning your process when it comes to your craft, but aren't you tired?"

"Hm nope, not at all are you?"

"I've handled far worse than just standing for a few hours, don't mind me friend, continue"

While that wasn't exactly a lie, it has been a couple of hours since Aventurine was made to be a makeshift mannequin for you, this was supposed to be a day to relax and take both your mind off work.

But it seems that inspiration has struck the minute you laid eyes on a particular fabric store that just got a new stock on a handful of interesting designs, without a second thought you rushed in, your companion had looked away for one second and the next he sees that you've already made yourself comfortable shuffling through the many options to choose from.

As he made his way back to your side, the faint sound of you mumbling under your breath could be heard clearer and clearer, while he didn't quite catch all of it, he was able to piece some things, one of which you wishing you had your mannequin back at the boutique right about now.

"Hey, why not use me for a bit?"

While Aventurine obviously isn't a mannequin, he can sure act like one if you need it, and that you did so you agreed without putting much thought into it, making a mental note to make him a little something as thanks.

And now here you two were, in the middle of the store as you try to pin fabric with your hands on Aventurine's body, he expected this to happen after all he's not the type to willingly volunteer for something without it benefiting him in some way, but he was not prepared for how close you'd be.

Practically an inch away from him, chest against his as you maneuver the fabric in your hands all over him trying to come up with a design in mind, his nose catching a whiff of your shampoo as the top of your head was practically in his face, he's mastered the art of keeping a poker face but a couple hours of this, no one can blame the man for cracking as time goes on.

Luckily for him it seems you've finally finished whatever it was you were doing, he can't even remember even though you were talking about it earlier, his mind growing muddled with serotonin.

He managed to snap out of it as you call over a worker to place an order for your chosen items, and of course pay for it, Aventurine beat you to it though handing his card while softly smiling.

"It's on me"

"What? Aventurine I can pay for it myself, there's really no need to-"

"I insist, it's a treat for how much I enjoyed being your little helper"

Just as you were about to contradict him, insisting even more that you should be the one paying since he already helped you, the worker has already swiped his card handing it back to him and walked off to prepare your order.

You could only facepalm, this wasn't the first time that he has thwarted your attempts at paying for your own things, he's done it so many times you've lost count, and while it's a fact that all of it combined wouldn't make a dent in his wallet, you still couldn't hell but feel guilty.

Not for long though as you could feel a hand gently patting your head, peaking up at him you could see a soft smile on his face.

"You know the deal~" he said in a singsong way

You playfully rolled your eyes

"Yeah yeah, Just let me know when you're free and we'll hang out again"

It was weird to you at first how that was the only thing he wanted after spending so much on you, but overtime you've sorta started to understand it, and want it as much as he does as well.

[frannyzooey]

The Date

Marcus Moreno x f!college student, The Secret Universe

Rating: E, age gap, heavy daddy kink y'all -- they are exploring it together ❤

A/N: all the thanks in the world goes to @the-scandalorian who reassures me every time I am worried the smut is not hitting -- your comments in the doc keep me going. thank you ❤ a special dedication to @swiftispunk who was really brave earlier this week and not only inspired me with that bravery, but also deserves a treat for it ❤

--

The door of the coffee shop swings open, cold air skimming across your back. Shifting your chair to angle yourself away from it, you glance down at your phone as it rings.

Marcus

Swiping right, you answer. 

“Hi,” you grin. 

“Hey, baby.”

His low voice flowing syrupy warm and deep into your ear, you play with the edge of a notebook page, still smiling.

“What’s up?”

“I’m at work, so I don’t have long, but I was calling to see what you’re doing this weekend. I’m free, and I was hoping you might be too?”

“Marcus Moreno. Are you asking me out on a date?” you tease. 

You hear a low chuckle through the phone, and you press your finger over your earbud to drown out the espresso machine in the background. 

“Yea I am, smart alec.” His scolding is laced with paternal endearment, and you smile wider. “I was thinking I’d pick you up tomorrow night after work?”

“Sure.”

“I gotta run into this meeting,” he says, and you can almost see him hurrying through the hallways, checking his watch. “But pack an overnight bag, okay? And put something pretty in there for me. I’m gonna take you to dinner.”

“Something pretty, huh? Kinda demanding, aren’t you?”

A small smile curls at the edge of your mouth and you can hear him match it with his own when he huffs a laugh, picturing the way his eyes crinkle at the corners with fondness. 

“There’s this hotel I always pass on the way up north, with a dinner place underneath. I made a reservation for us.”

You shift in your seat, feeling almost shy. The premeditated planning and the thoughtfulness behind the idea makes you feel cherished, and for a reason you can’t fully explain, feminine. Delicate, meant to be taken care of. This grown man, thinking of you while he’s at the office, making plans to be with you later. Asking you to wear something pretty, just for him. 

“That sounds perfect,” you reply. “I’ll pack tonight.”

“Great,” he answers. 

His voice slips into something more hushed, as if he’s stepped to the side of a doorway before heading into a meeting room. “I’ll be thinking about you until I see you. Been thinking about you since I booked the room.”

So open with his affection, something stirs deep about the sweet sentiment of the words paired with their true meaning. With what you know he’s been thinking about. 

“Oh yea? Anything you want to share with me now, over the phone?”

He lets out a soft, good humored groan. “I wish, baby. I wish I could.”

The sound of his voice coils something deep in your belly, warming you from the inside out. It’s always so overwhelming when he calls you and you have your earbuds in – especially when he lets out those soft groans. Made even more intimate due to the fact that your relationship is still a secret, it makes the low tone of his voice that’s just for you all the more arousing. 

“Tell me on the drive up there?” you ask sweetly.

He lets out a slow breath into the receiver, and you close your eyes for a moment. 

“Oh believe me, I will. Gotta run though. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You say your goodbye and hang up, your assignment forgotten as you stare out the window with a far away, content expression. 

Taking a sip of your latte, you slide into a daydream: an image of him driving, the way his blue dress shirt pulls tight across his shoulders. Him checking into a hotel room, with the sort of casual confidence it requires. The soft brace of his hand on your back as he guides you through the carpeted hallways, the soft click of the door behind you. 

Taking another sip of your drink, the images roll on from there; the coffee shop humming with life around you. 

–

“Wow,” you say, walking into the room. Turning to him, you give him a shy smile. “Pretty fancy.”

“Yea, it’s not bad, huh.”

He tosses his key card on the dresser, placing your overnight bag down next to it. Clicking on the lamp, he bathes the room in warm, inviting light. The furnishings are understated but luxurious, the king sized bed enormous and lush. The sight of a single bed in the room sends warmth through the cradle of your hips and down, and a rolodex of images flashes quickly through your mind: crisp sheets, sweat slick skin, his broad, bare shoulders hooked under your knees. 

His words interrupt your fantasy. “I thought I could let you get ready, and I’ll go down and get us a table? Order us a drink?”

It’s never been this way with anyone else. Something that drew you in from the first time you met him, he’s always been so caring and attentive. Always anticipating the situation and making a clear plan for it, always considering your desires and putting them first. Never to the detriment of his own, but rather alongside his. Because he likes it. Because he can’t help doing it. Like it’s second nature, after spending so many years as a single dad. 

Still, every time he offers to do something before you ask, you find yourself touched. So considerate and thoughtful – while booking you a room with the clear intention of doing something depraved in it. 

“Don’t take long, okay?” he says, stepping closer. His hands curl around your hips, and you turn to fully face him. Letting your touch find his firm chest, you splay your fingers over the crisp fabric of his dress shirt, warm with his body heat. 

“I won’t,” you promise. 

Leaning in, he presses a gentle kiss to your mouth, one you chase when he pulls away. Studying your face closely for a moment, his expression softens. 

“You know, you can say it here if you want.”

Immediately understanding what he’s referring to, you swallow, vulnerability spreading across your features. 

“I want you to,” he softly encourages.

You bite your bottom lip for a moment, hesitating. You haven’t said it since that night in his guestroom, but the memory of it has brought you to release more than once. The word has echoed in your mind for weeks; his lust-soaked groan after you said it fills your mind every time you close your eyes. 

The definitive statement of his encouragement gives you courage as he meets you halfway with a vocalization of his own secret want. A seemingly large leap to take, you know he’ll catch you when you fall – he always does. 

“Okay,” you agree. 

His expression so achingly soft yet with an undercurrent of lust hidden in the depths of his dark eyes, he leans in again, skimming his nose across your cheekbone with a featherlight brush. His hands gently tug your hips closer, and his mouth finds the soft hollow beneath your ear. Pressing a kiss there, he gives you another, and another, his tongue tasting your skin. 

Your head lolls to the side, and your eyes slip shut, focusing on the plush, warm give of his mouth. 

“Say it,” he whispers, and you melt into him, a heavy ache pooling inside you. 

You focus on the wet glide of his tongue and the solid sturdiness of his body in your grip, and the word comes pouring out of your mouth, saturated and soaked with want. 

“Daddy.”

A soft groan catches in the back of his throat, the sound pressing into the delicate skin of your neck. His fingers tighten in their hold, and he gives you another lingering kiss. His teeth scrape against the slope of it this time, his mustache tickling your skin and when you let out an involuntarily whimper, his mouth gets more demanding, his grip tightening as he sucks, the bulge of his stiffening cock nudging along the top of your thigh as he flexes his hips towards you – 

And then he’s pulling himself back with his eyes closed, a small frown gathered between his brows. Trying to rein his desire in, he lets his forehead rest against yours for a moment, collecting himself with a sigh. 

“Good girl,” he praises you, the warm words ghosting humid across your lips. 

Your fingers curl into the smooth fabric along his sides, and you resist the urge to tuck your face into the crook of his neck to hide how much the endearment affects you. 

You cling to him for a moment, waiting for his body to settle and then he takes a step back, scrubbing his jaw with his hand and blowing out a heavy breath. Swiping the key off the dresser, he pats his pockets to make sure he has everything he needs. 

“I’ll be downstairs at the bar.” He takes a step towards the door, and then stops, hesitating. His eyes drop down your body and back up again, taking their time. “Seriously, don’t take long.”

Laughing, you wave him out the door, standing in place with a grin as you watch it close behind him. 

–

The white wine he ordered pairs with the delicious food just right, and though you want to eat more, you stop yourself, not wanting to get too full. So you share with him instead, eating off each other’s plates as you talk. 

It’s been a couple weeks since you’ve seen him last, and he covers every topic: school, your schedule, how you’ve been spending your free time, what books you’ve been reading. He wants to know it all, just like he seems to want to touch it all, with the way his hands never leave you. The warm weight of his hand on the top of your thigh makes you bold, the proximity of his fingers to your core a bright, beckoning pressure. 

You lean in, asking him to name at least one of the things he promised he would tell you in the car.  

Watching the waiter come over with a refill of your wine, he whispers in your ear.

“I can’t stop thinking about your pussy. How much I want it.”

The filthy words are a direct contrast to the way he seems so outwardly relaxed and polite, and the words play on a loop in your mind when he presses a gentle kiss just under your ear. 

His solid body fits against the length of yours in the booth after you’re finished eating and then again out on the small, intimate dance floor. Feeling bashful at the slightly old fashioned request, you take his hand and let him lead you out to it, winding your arms around his neck. 

One of his hands splayed across your lower back with a protective hold, the other one strokes along your side, seeking out the smooth fabric of your dress. Waves of romantic music guide your swaying steps and lightheaded with drink, with happiness and with him, you rest your face at the corner of his jaw, breathing him in. 

The picture of romance to anyone observing, you pull back just enough to look at him sweet and soft – before opening your mouth. 

“I think I’m ready to go upstairs now.”

His steady gaze just as intoxicating as his charm and attentiveness has been tonight, you hold it and tilt your chin up, lowering your voice even more. 

“Take me to bed, daddy.”

The only outward tell of the effect your words have on him are his hands tightening in their hold, but you can feel his body subtly stiffen the way it’s pressed against yours. He waits until the song is done, and then he’s leading you off the dance floor, the weight of his hand resting on your tailbone all the way to your room. 

When he steers you inside, you expect him to turn on the lights…but he doesn’t. 

His hands cupping your jaw, he kisses you instead. 

“You looked so beautiful tonight.”

The words are whispered into the darkness, the only light in the room coming through the sheer curtains. The firmer edges of him meet your softer ones: a deft, skillful handling of your dress as he takes it off, his dry palms skating over your bare skin as he unhooks your bra and tosses it onto the floor, the delicate brush of his fingertips as he slides your panties down your legs and off. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing bare between his spread thighs, there is something so…erotic, about the way he just looks. By contrast, he is still in everything he wore tonight, save for the shoes he slipped off when you walked into the room and you fight the urge to squirm under his attentive, reverential gaze. He takes his time, his hands exploring every slope of your skin he can reach. 

“When we were downstairs,” he starts, looking up at you with doleful, heavy lidded eyes, “I just kept thinking about how much I wanted to come back to the room. How much I wanted to undress you and see what was waiting, just for me.”

His touches get heavier, more weighted, slightly more needy when he palms the weight of your breast in his hand and you watch the slow swallow of his throat, a steady throb beating between your thighs. Slick pools sticky and wet along your seam, smearing across his fingertips when he nudges them between the soft skin of your thighs, skating his touch through the silky curls that cover your cunt.   

“This is mine, right?” His voice drops into a low husk, his eyes on where he’s touching you. 

“Yes,” you answer shakily, trying not to succumb to the weight of your want. 

“I wanted so bad to taste this instead of the food we were eating.”

He does then, bringing his fingers to his mouth with a frown and a soft groan and a suck, and you bend at the waist, cupping his jaw to bring his mouth to yours. Kissing him fiercely, you crawl onto his lap. 

“Do you want it just as bad as I do, baby?” he breathes, molding his lips against yours. His arm hooks around your back, tugging your body against his. His broad hand settles on your hip, a slight tremble to his hold. “Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” you confess. 

Getting lost in the cool sensation of his clothes against your heated skin, one hand grasps the collar of his shirt, and the other wraps around the nape of his neck. Grinding yourself down onto the stiff heft of his cock, it strains through his pants beneath you. His mouth demands more from yours, and the anticipation that’s been building in you since yesterday when he called breaks, the words rushing out against his lips. 

“I want you to eat my pussy, daddy. I want you to taste it.”

Only the third time tonight that you’ve let yourself say it, he growls, flipping you onto your back. Covering you with the weight of his body, he guides your still moving hips against his own with a weighted grind just for a moment, and then he’s pulling himself away to sink to his knees on the side of the bed, tugging you swiftly to the edge. 

“Marcus.”

The moan you let out is guttural and loud when he gives your cunt an open mouthed kiss, his head shaking “no” between your legs. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you pant. Your fingers slipping through his hair to press him closer, his tongue swirls heavy around your clit, his shoulders spreading you wider as you grind against his face. 

“Daddy.”

The rumble of his corresponding groan of approval is felt deep inside you, and there is an urgency that slips into his movements as his grasping hands cup your breasts with a squeeze, smooth down your torso with a weighty drag, and wrap around the back of your knees to push you open wider for him. When you come in his mouth, he buries the bottom half of his face with a groan of satisfaction, letting you ride it out against his chin. 

Leaving you breathless and sated for the moment, he stands and strips his clothing quickly. Buttons ripped open and shirt untucked, belt undone before he pushes everything down and off, he impatiently tugs his undershirt over his head before he’s crawling up on the bed to join you. Your eyes drop to his cock, bobbing with weight as he makes his way over to you and you think he’s going to spread your legs to make room for himself, but instead he stretches out alongside you, pulling you in for a kiss. 

Your taste thick on his tongue, he waits until you’re restless in your movements against him, and then rolls over on his back, guiding you on top.

He’s a lot like this, in this position. His cock thick to begin with, the stretch of it takes his mouth to get you ready to begin with, but paired with the weight of your body as it presses him deeper inside you, your breathing hitches as you work him in. Overwhelmed with fullness, you squirm on his lap and rocking your hips forward just to feel him slide inside of you, you tip your head back with a moan. 

“Daddy.”

His hands envelop your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your peaked nipples. He plays with them, forcing his hips up to meet yours. 

“Daddy, please.” You’re begging, but you don’t even know for what. 

The sensation of him beneath you and inside you, the relief of saying the name you have for him in your heart. You know he brought you here so you’d feel more comfortable saying it, and so you do. You let the word spill into the dark room, absorbed by the walls – spill, spill, spill out of your mouth just like he does down your throat, tucking himself into the deepest parts of your body. 

The quiet intimacy, the warm, dry, comforting hold of his big hands as they move you on top of him, the solid strength in his body between your flexing thighs – it all swirls into something intensely arousing, sending shivers along your skin, your breath catching in your throat.

Your moans are breathless as you start to ride him, pleading for him all the same. “Please daddy. It feels so good.”

Everything centered between your legs, he buries himself to the hilt and makes you grind down on it, filling you to the brim. 

“That’s my girl, letting go like that. Do you need more?”

You shake your head, your teeth pulling at your bottom lip as you focus on how deep he is. 

“No. No, it’s just – “ Your hips work faster; a groan spilling out of his outstretched throat. The sound makes you look down at him and he is wrecked underneath you. “You feel so good. So good.”

His thumb rubs circles against your clit, a groan crawling out of his chest when you clench hard around him. “I want you to come on it, baby, okay?”

His hair mussed against the white pillow, his glasses askew on the bedside table. His plush mouth, open in a pant as he watches you ride him. 

These are things that only you get to see, and similar, contrasting images flash through your mind: his thumb a slick drag over your clit (wrapped around the steering wheel as he drove here), his open mouth, begging just for you (smiling politely at the receptionist as she checked you in), his fingers hooked around his drink tonight at dinner (the same ones that have been buried inside you and tucked into your mouth). 

His broad back at the sink as he does the dishes; the same one filling the space between your spread thighs. The voice that makes polite conversation with his coworkers; the husky, filthy orders given to you in the privacy of your room. 

This reserved man; this depraved man. This good father who loves to debase his daughter’s best friend. 

This unassuming and handsome man with a want cradled within him so deeply that no one can tell — no one but you, who gets the brunt of his tightly held restraint that spills loose every time you’re alone. 

No one knows him like this. Only you.

You come on top of him, and then he’s rolling you onto your back again, before sitting back on his heels and tugging you up onto his lap. You don’t even have time to brace yourself before he’s smearing the wet tip of his cock along the curve of your ass, guiding himself to sink back inside your soaked cunt with a groan. The snap of his hips is harsh and hard, your fingers digging into his shoulders for purchase and when you let out a soft sob, his arms wind tightly around you.

 Secure and safe, he cradles against his broad chest. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, and all mine. All mine,” he chants, pressing kisses along the slope of your shoulder. 

His hand slides down to rest against your lower back, and when he pushes the weight of his hold along it to grind you harder against him, your back tries to bow with pleasure, but he holds you so tightly you can’t. A couple rocks of his hips upwards that have you trembling against him, and then he’s pushing his hand between your bodies, seeking out your clit. 

“Daddy,” you plead, your hand wrapping around his thick wrist as his fingers work, work, work. 

“You’re doing so good for me,” he praises breathlessly. “Such a good girl. I’m almost there, I just want you to come again. Can my sweet girl come for me again?”

You could – you’re already halfway there with the way he won’t stop playing with your clit while he fucks into you from below, and when you start to come, he holds you even tighter. The air squeezed from your lungs by his strong arm wound around your back and his nails scratch the skin between your shoulder blades as his own groan sounds deep and low over yours. 

Pliant and loose on his lap as you come down, you are so wet it’s audible when he fucks half a dozen harsh strokes into you and when he comes, he forces you down onto his lap as tight as he can, his strong grip holding you in place as he floods you with his spend. The heavy rise and fall of his chest matches your own, and you feel the rumble of his deep, sated groans of relief against your sensitive breasts. 

Tacky with sweat and the inside of your thighs sore, you shift to move, and his hold tightens. 

“Stay,” he pants, hooking his chin over your shoulder to clutch you to him, bowing his head. “Stay.”

–

He’s so boyish when he’s on the verge of sleep. 

His features lax, the wrinkles that surround his eyes softened. You play with the curls at the nape of his neck, the action soothing to both of you. 

You think of how neat his hair is normally styled, and how much you like seeing this version more. Always so buttoned up for everyone else – so reserved, so polite and kind – and yet so undone, just for you. Flushed cheeks, loose curls, bright eyes flashing in the darkness. 

Only you know what he looks like when he comes. 

Only you know that he likes being your daddy. 

A tide of gratefulness swells in your chest, and you whisper to him in the darkness. 

“I love you.”

He stirs, lifting his arm to cover you with the weight of it. “Come here.” 

You tuck yourself in along his body and when you’re shielded by the width of him, he presses a kiss to your temple, and then the apple of your cheek, pressing you closer. 

“My sweet girl.” His words slur, his tone softening as he slips away. “I love you too.”

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free - Chapter 10: Hymne à L'amour

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI. Oral sex (m to f), a smidge of edging, handjob, vaginal sex, woman on top, orgasms.

Word Count: 4.1k. Who is surprised the sex chapter is my longest? Yeah me neither

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the smutty goodness people. Please heed the warning change. if you want your story chaste, please skip this chapter. There is no plot, just porn. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Portsmouth, UK, September 1939

As soon as your lips meet his, he grabs your face and kisses you back harder than he ever has, a faintly panted growl that makes something turn molten inside. Kissing you like his life depends on it, an urgency in his tongue and lips that stun you.

You go to say his name, but he swallows it and hushes you, his lips never leaving yours as he does so. One hand slides down your front as you kiss, a teasing trail of fingers over your clavicle that makes all your senses fire. He pulls back and stares intently into your eyes as the hand slides lower and cups your breast through your dress.

“Benedict,” you gasp, and the look of victory on his face is devastatingly handsome. He doesn't break eye contact as his thumb swipes gently over your nipple, and your breath hitches a rasping inhale.

“There it is,” he smiles crookedly, “that sound I love to hear.” 

His thumb swipes with a little more pressure but still maddeningly slow. You already feel on tenterhooks, heart hammering, body rioting—part of you wants him to be fast, maybe even a little rough, for him to be impatient from the same boiling passion that you feel simmering in your bones. Another part of you wants him to go so slow that you are clawing at him, broken and wrecked, pleading for him to take pity on you as you tremble and teeter so close to something mind-blowing. 

Neither of those extremes is anything you have experienced yet, and you want him to be the one to give you both more than you want to breathe—a passion only he can evoke. You have seen glimpses of him untamed, especially last night in the cottage when he sent you away, his whole being seemingly shaking with need; you want to inspire that in him again, now, tomorrow, maybe always. 

“Undress me….” a hushed plea you exhale shakily, desperation for him to touch your flesh.

He pulls back a fraction, eyes glittering, hand still upon your breast. 

“Like this?” his voice like butter as that hand moves to the top pearl button over your sternum, a teasing crooked smile on his lips as you breathe heavily and stare up at him.  

The air feels charged as his fingertips brush featherlight down the sliver of skin he reveals, with each button popping open, leaving a little trail of fire all the way to your navel. The buttons continue to the hem at your knees, and you want to groan as he slips to his knees before you and continues the unfastening at a steady but unrushed pace, staring up to catalogue your face as you look down at him.

You quake as his fingers pass close over the front of your underwear but do not touch, and you want to whimper. He keeps going, deft fingers undoing each button over your thighs, goosebumps raising as you feel his warm breath ghosting between the fabric as he works. When the last is undone, he leans back on his haunches and looks up at you again, eyes blazing. 

“Take it off.” 

It’s halfway between a plea and an order, maybe both and your body blossoms all over, tangy want metallic on your tongue. The pure desire writ large on his face gives you the confidence to reach up and push the fabric off your shoulders, allowing the dress to part and fall to the floor behind you, hitting the carpet with a soft whump. Your knees almost buckle at the noise he strangles in the back of his throat as you tower above him in bra, underwear and stockings. 

“Touch me… please,” it’s a quiet but imploring request.

Almost reverential, his hands raise and ghost over your knees then thighs, not yet touching, almost as if there is too much choice, and he has no idea where to begin. Then they land heavily on the outer flare of your hips, a grip that is strong but not harsh and his face pitches forward, burying his warm nose into your navel and inhaling deeply before dropping a tender kiss right on the sensitive spot at the top of your belly button. You want to curl forward over him, the breath swept from your lungs at this simple gesture. Your hands grip his warm, broad shoulders as he nuzzles into you.

“You smell so sweet,” he almost sounds pained, wistful, his hands sliding around to cup the globes of your button and propel you further into his arms. 

He is clinging to you, strong arms wrapped around your hips, his knees on either side of your feet. He drops a line of kisses across your belly that has your abdominals rippling and a shiver running all over you as his fingers deftly unhook your stockings and pull them gently down your legs. Kneeling before you as if worshipping your body. Clinging to you like his very life depended upon it, looking up at you with devoted, blown pupils. It's a potent elixir and makes you want to strip bare for him.

As you step out of your stockings, you let go of his shoulders to reach behind and unhook your bra before the spell is broken, boldly throwing it aside as he makes a joyous noise and pushes up onto his knees, latching onto your nipple with a suction that has you calling out his name. It makes him feral, almost snarling, hands kneading your lace-clad bottom as he sucks harder, and you flood your underwear, the need for him making you shudder.

“Don't stop…” your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, your tooth snagging your lip, eyes fluttering shut as he swaps to your other breast and your fingers card into his thick, luscious head of hair, massaging his scalp with little swirling motions that match the wet tongue circling your areola.

“Please look at me….” he calls, and your eyes reopen to see him looking up at you as he flattens his tongue and licks over your puckered nipple, his eyes flashing fire, wanting you to watch him do this to you, watch your body physically change under his ministrations, your skin flushing darker.

Just as time seems to slow like molasses, he suddenly stands up. A complete change of pace as you are hauled high into his arms, like in the kitchen this morning, your legs twine around his waist on instinct, feeling something hard on your damp knickers as his lips crash into yours, urgent, hot, passionate. Then he is moving, slim hips flexing against your inner thighs and your back is pressed into the wall, the velvet wallpaper tickling your spine, the pictures rattling in their frames as he takes your hands and pins them above your head, fingers sinking between yours, so your hands form a tight fist together, your wedding rings clinking together. 

“You make me wild, wreckless, wanton…” he murmurs, breaking the kiss, his being racked with that same trembling you felt before he sent you away last night.

“The feeling is mutual,” you assure, panting lightly, the slightly rough treatment such a contrast to the slow reverence he knelt before you in.

It’s a compulsion, a magnetic pull, something in your chemistry pulling you to each other even though you met barely days ago. Putting aside the added complication of marriage from your mind as you concentrate on the physical. He makes you bold in ways you never expected and awakens things within you you didn't know even existed. You want him to act on every instinct he has, want him not to hold back. It feels at once ethereal and rooted deeply in something physical—primaeval, dark, damp and earthy, like soil.

Rather than speak words, you tilt your hips where they wrap around his body and rub yourself shamelessly over the hard mass you can feel through his pyjama bottoms. His grip on your hands slackens, and his face buries into your neck, almost biting with intensity as he sucks the cord of your neck and you repeat your move, your swollen nub mashed deliciously onto his hardness, the lace of your underwear just heightening the heady sensation.

“I want to hear you beg...” he confesses, sounding guilty but compelled to utter it, his lips still on your neck. “But I also want to indulge your every whim before you even know you have it.”

That he has the capacity to articulate all the same feelings swirling in your head impresses. You feel you can barely string a sentence together, need overwhelming your usually razor-sharp mind. 

“Please….” 

It's all you can say in response, but it seems enough. With another untamed noise, you are on the move again, and within seconds, he is lowering you onto the bed, hovering over you in a way that fills your whole field of vision.

“I need to be the best you have ever had…” confessions tumbling from him as he lowers his weight onto you, heat and muscle pinning you down in a way that has you instantly clawing at his t-shirt, fabric straining over the lithe muscles of his upper back. 

“You already are….” you admit breathily, letting his legs sink between yours and his knees push yours out wide, his hard quad muscle under soft cotton. The pace slowing again to something decadent, rich like dark chocolate.

He leans up onto his knuckles, the mattress dipping on either side of your body as he does so.

“Do not return to him,” he beseeches, earnest vulnerability clouding his expression. “Even if you do not remain with me, he is unworthy of you…”

Something in your chest cracks at his sincerity. “I will never return to him,” you vow over a shaky breath, too afraid to confirm he is the only place you want to be. 

Instead, you do what compels you, curling a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him back down into a kiss. Feeling overwhelmed by him caging you, hands gripping your waist as your tongues tangle, your pelvis mashed to his, wanting him to be as naked as you are.

“Take this off,” you almost whine, plucking at the sleeves of his t-shirt as you surface for breath.

He chuckles at that and sits up slightly to whip it off, a glimpse of a toned torso before the heat of his chest is lowered over yours, and you lose all power of thought. Fingers tracing the contours of tendons you feel flexing on his shoulders as his hands wander, sending a current shimmering over your body until he hooks his fingers into your underwear and starts to tug them down your hips. Shuffling lower, his mouth is again hot on your breasts as your underwear slips further, somehow untangling from you just long enough to discard them. You are utterly naked under him, knowing he can scent your arousal as he drops lower, lingering close to your belly button again, kissing, always kissing.

When he slips lower still something clenches low in your gut.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, a thread of alarm that he is muscling your legs over his shoulders.

He smirks at first then his face falls to one filled with concern. “No one has ever done this to you?” his ask laced with incredulity.

You stare down the plane of your body to his handsome face framed by your own thighs. “N-no,” you stumble out, always unable to lie to him, even now.

“A man cannot claim to love a woman and not do this,” he seems to seethe with an indignation on your behalf - that you have not experienced this before.

“What are you going to do?” you whisper.

His expression changes again - like an entirely different man inhabits him, a seductive look that has your face flushing. Without answering, he lowers his jaw between your legs and ploughs his tongue into the gathered, dewy wetness. You are on a cliff edge, a complete tumult as you inhale - sharp, ragged - the warm muscular swipe of his tongue in a place so intimate. Your hands grasp his forearm on instinct, needing something to hold onto as he does the same again. You swear out loud and writhe, the intensity making your body want to buck hard. A strong hand curling around your pelvis and locking you down to the bed. The static over your skin buzzes, a thrill zipping up your spine as you are held down and, well, devoured. 

He is not gentle, using his whole face to wring a medley of novel sensations. The stubble of his face rasping the delicate skin between your legs, his lips suctioning hard on your folds, his tongue roughly lapping at the hardened pearl hiding there, a shock running high up into your pelvis from how he does so, you can feel yourself swelling and throbbing harder under his attentions. Drawing uneven gulped breaths, occasionally feeling a twinge so strong your abdomen clenches, your head raising off the pillow, a jolt so hard that your whole body seems to contract with a wave of pleasure.

Your hands grasp his hair, steering your pleasure, licking your dry lips. Now you understand why women talk in hushed tones about sex. This makes you want to scream and thrash and never stop. Just as you feel yourself spiralling somewhere truly heady, breath quickening, body boiling, he stops and sits back, looking triumphantly down upon your rippling body, his handsome face glistening in the lamplight with your arousal.

“Why did you stop?” Each word feels an effort to grit out, a large hand holding you down on your lower belly, his middle finger hooked into your belly button as you undulate under his hold.

“Because I want to see you like this,” his voice rich, decadent, sonorous, the tone bordering on smug as his eyes rake over your flushed torso, peaked, puffy nipples, swollen weeping slit, admiring his handiwork.

Even as you are in upheaval, your eyes fall from his victorious face to the bulge in his pyjamas, wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine. A desire to take him to the edge and then sit back and observe, watch him writhe and flex. Unable to resist, you grab him with a force that makes him startle, his hold on you slackening in surprise. He is so hot and hard, and your fingers wrap around the outline and rub up and down his length. His eyes flash fire as your other hand moves to the drawstring to untie the bow. He doesn't stop you; he assists, climbing out of them as you stare covetously.

You didn't realise men could look so different until now, did not know what you have been missing, almost an apprehension about the scale of what you see. He guides your hand back to his flesh once his clothing is discarded. Velvet smooth and warm, you wrap your hand around him, noting the difference from the only other one you have touched. The noises he makes are different, too; needier, leaking over your knuckle as you squeeze in an upwards motion, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily, and his eyes closing as you glance at his face. So very different and so appealing.

“I have never….” you begin but feel unable to say it.

“You don't have to,” he replies rapidly, eyes popping open.

“But I want to…” you admit tacitly, an urge you have never felt before.

A wolfish grin claims his face, and he gently removes your hand, crawling over you, cupping your face and kissing you deeply, your naked bodies pressed together, his cock branding hot against your belly.

“Another time,” he asserts over your lips, and something inside you vaults that this isn't a momentary, fleeting opportunity. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he is almost hesitant, a benevolence that makes your heart skip, the moment turning tender, loving almost.

“I've never been more certain of anything,” you whisper, heartfelt, genuine, your hands running his sides, stopping to grasp the belt of muscle low around his middle, pushing yourself off the bed and into his warmth to emphasise your point.

With a soft smile and a sotto voce request to let him prepare, he rolls away and gathers a tin from his nightbag. Your stomach flutters with butterflies as you realise he is reaching for latex protection. You watch the play of muscles in his back as he does so, unseen, and you reach out and run a soothing hand over his spine on instinct, wanting to touch him any moment you can. He twists and smiles at you, grabbing your hand and kissing your fingers before turning back and crawling over you, a caring streak running through his evident desire.

Then he is upon you again, kissing with fiery intent, caressing your breasts and stomach, sweeping you back into a state where your blood runs hot, your skin glowing with want, that lantern behind your ribs that seems to burn just for him fully ablaze as he nudges your hips open gently with his, a hand guiding himself close to your body now.

“Look at me,” his request silky, and you cannot do anything but - his pupils a sea of inky glass blackness you can see a mirage of yourself in as he pushes into your body.

You thought time stopped when he first kissed you a few days ago. But that was nothing compared to this. A searing stretch so slow but so much more than you have experienced before, your toes curling into the sheets, your fingers digging hard into the rope of muscle pulled taut between his shoulder blades. Still, your eyes do not stray from each other as he keeps going, you holding your breath until he bottoms out, the feeling of fullness overwhelming. He holds still to allow you to adjust, even as you can see how much he is holding back, almost a shake in his being. 

“I’m not made of glass,” you entreat.

His thumb sweeps your bottom lip, his wedding ring cool against your jaw where he cradles your face. 

“But you are precious to me,” he counters, and the swell of emotions those words cause almost knock the wind from your lungs.

But then he starts to move, and you can barely breathe, regardless. He withdraws and then surges back in a wave. The tug deep inside makes you gasp, grab onto him, wrap your legs around his calves, toes tickled by the downy hair there. It is so wholly other than anything you have experienced; the past pales. This is what intimacy truly is. A wash of emotion that you could have gone through life and not known something like this.

“Are you alright?” his face creased with a tender concern as he moves slowly.

“I never knew what I was missing…” nothing but truthful.

His whole demeanour softens, his eyes soft and down-sloped, holding still buried within you; his words seem to echo through your body from where you are joined as he answers.

“You deserve the world, y/n.” 

Emotion bubbles behind your ribs and blooms into sheer want - an impetuous need to channel the words you want to say but daren’t into action. Screwing your eyes shut and biting the edge of your tongue to tamp the urge to ask him to fuck you thoroughly, carnally, take you somewhere no one has before. But it's like he can sense it, for when he starts to move again, it's a snap of his hips that drives him deeper than before, making you moan loudly and rise off the bed, curving bowlike into his body.

You hiss your approval and he does it again, watching you carefully, cataloguing when you open your eyes again and meet his stare challengingly. Telegraphing silently that you want him to be merciless. The bed squeaks in protest as you start to move together, you pushing down as he thrusts up, your right and flying to the headboard to provide leverage, as his teeth scrap down your neck, over your clavicle, suckling hard on your breast as you speed up.

The sharp zing of sensation right down to your core makes you swear under your breath, spurring him on, his shower-damp hair an array of curls shaken loose as you go faster, his gaze like a thick veil you wear, sweeping your face, your body, glancing down to where you are joined, his breath hitched hard at what he glimpses You look too, drawn to the sight like never before, a want to see your body being invaded by him, somehow making it seem real rather than a fevered, lustful dream.

His right hand hooks behind your neck and tangles in your hair, hauling you up to meet his greedy lips, kissing artlessly but full of open-mouthed sighs and moans as you move yet faster, a sheen breaking out over both of your bodies.  Your left hands clasp together on instinct, wedding bands clinking quietly, your eyes drifting to the sound, then back to each other. As if you had almost forgotten what you have done to allow yourself to get to this very moment.

It makes you fearless, so with a flick of your hips that surprises him, you are able to flip him over while he stays inside you, a need to ride, to take control of your own pleasure, something you have never done before. The flash of admiration on his face is priceless, his hands immediately grasping your waist and encouraging you to rise and fall on his cock, finding a whole new world of pleasure, angling to hit your swollen pearl on his pelvis when you sink.

He watches you with hooded eyes, whispering encouraging words, the slight burn in your thighs worth it for the looped call and response of his body and yours, moving faster now, letting him fuck up into you, again meeting each other halfway, as enthused as the other to wring all the pleasure you can from each second.

Then with a lopsided smile, his large hand spans downwards from your hip, his thumb sliding between your legs and hooking over the hood of your clit. The jolt makes you cry out and shudder, his resounding groan loud as you clamp hard around him. 

“Don't you dare stop this time,” it’s almost a command through gritted teeth, and he looks surprised and so aroused you feel him ripple inside you. 

He does as bidden, his blunt thumbnail catching perfectly around the side of your clit, the pad mashed against you as you ride hard now, muscles protesting, a bead of sweat sliding down your spine from your hairline. You are climbing again, just as he had you when his tongue was there; the memory of it drives you harder. Until you feel that dam breaking, your whole body wound tight and suddenly snapping with a violent release, a technicolour explosion behind your eyelids. Slamming down on Benedict, who calls out roughly as you come around him, gripped upon him tight as you flutter, his cock feeling so huge you swear you will still feel its imprint tomorrow. It never seems to end the sensation racing down your limbs to fizzle in your toes and fingers, a true livewire. Underneath you, Benedict grips your hips with a curse and a long, low groan; you feel him breaking, too, a pulsing ripple travelling up his length as he spills into the latex between you.

You slump forward onto his chest, heaving gulps of air, feeling so many contradictions - sated but still hungry, energised but exhausted, aching but ready to go again just to chase that intangible high. Benedict's lips are hot on your damp forehead, and you push off him slightly, a hitch in his breath as you do, your lips meeting in a prolonged kiss, an endnote to this symphony.

“I've never done that before,” you confess over a gratified giggle.

His smile is warm, his hands running up and down your back in soothing strokes. “Which part?”

“Both being on top and that…” suddenly shy to state the word.

He looks momentarily shocked. “Then I am so glad you got scammed,” he says with a conviction that makes you frown fleetingly. “I could not allow a world where you would go back to America and never have an orgasm…”

He is sincere, but something in the way he says it makes you break out into happy, carefree peals of laughter that has him joining in as he slips from inside your body.

This lighthearted moment seems to break any tension there may be about words you could say; it means you are still giggling together as he rolls you aside and, after discarding the condom, pulls you into his arms, both of you suddenly bone tired from the rollercoaster of a day.

“I am so glad I got scammed too,” you offer sleepily; he huffs a laugh, matching smiles as sleep claims you both almost instantly. 

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