#cradle of filth shirt

[tyforthevnm]

frnkiero andthe cellabration at The Orbit Room, Grand Rapids, MI on September 12, 2014 | Mary Moline

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

Hot Topic Cradle of Filth Long Sleeve Tshirt

2004

Found on Ebay, user susylillyfinds 

[closetofcuriosities]

Cradle Of Filth - Vestal Masturbation - 1990s

[jinx-aesthel]

Sharing this since I finally got my ass to the post office and finally sent it ☠️ This is a custom patch shirt I made as a gift for my friend Villanarei !! I can’t wait to see her wearing it!

[capricorn-trash-x]

Cradle of Filth / Aus 2019

acquired in Perth

[rot-room]

[buckyalpine]

Bucky feral over pregnant reader

Pure pregnancy fluff and filth. This was meant to be pure fluff and then as usual, I got carried away, idk why I decided to make it this dirty. 

I can’t get over Bucky being obsessed with you carrying his baby. Yes he’s excited to be a dad but there’s something about the fact that it’s you. You’re pregnant because of him, it’s his little one in your perfect belly. Every tiny change he notices in your body makes him swoon from, from your swollen achy feet to your tender breasts, and your slightly plumper cheeks. 

He fucking loves it. 

Your his baby mama and nothing else matters, he’s so proud and in love with you. The swell of your tummy makes his heart beat faster, and the more it grows, the more irresistible he finds you.

“You’re carrying my baby” he coos, wrapping his hands around your tummy while you stand in the kitchen grabbing a snack. He’s happy to cradle the little bump in his arms, easing some of the tension from your back, doing anything to help you feel better. He’s such a lovesick puppy, always looking at you with heart eyes and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the team. 

“Look, he’s going it again” Sam whispered to Steve, the both of them watching Bucky watching you flit around the kitchen with his chin resting on his hands, sighing, enamored with how pretty you are with your cute little waddle. 

“Does he plan on moving any time soon?”

“Nope” 

Bucky is so busy admiring you, he doesn’t realize the team has started timing records for how long he just sits and watches because they find it utterly and disgustingly adorable.��

He wants to make love to you the entire time, every hour if possible but mama also needs her rest so he doesn’t try to tire you out. That doesn’t mean he keeps his hands to himself, especially when you’re extra hormonal and needy. 

“I got you, mama” He soothes you, pulling your soaked cotton panties off and pulling up your oversized shirt over your belly, his hands gently holding onto your hips and he pushes himself inside. He loves this position with your thighs spread apart, belly on full display, watching your face contort with pleasure, watching his cock thrust in and out of your dripping cunt.

It takes everything in him not to cum instantly, fucking his pretty, very pregnant girl, knowing he knocked her up, it’s his cum that has her all round and perfect, their love making that’s giving him a family. 

“Fuck mama, m’gonna cum” He can’t help the whine and whimper of his voice, muscles tensed from trying to hold back but he can’t, your body is so warm and soft, “S’too much, balls feel to heavy, you make my cock so sensitive, s’all fucked up, I can’t-f-fuuckk” His hips stutter and he’s  spilling ropes of his creamy spend into you, already thinking of getting you pregnant immediately after. 

He can’t resist you even when you’re asleep. 

“Jamie” you whine, your futile protests turning into a needy moan when you feel his tongue brush over your clit, his head between your legs, the time on the clock 1:15AM. 

“Please mama? Wanna make you feel good pretty baby, you deserve it” He just had to get a taste and he doesn’t relent till his beard is soaked and your a shaky, trembling mess. He suckles and nurses off your clit like it’s keeping him alive, pumping his fingers in and out of you till your eyes roll all the way back and your voice is cracking from screaming. 

Your pregnancy has made him down right filthy and feral. Like when you finished up your shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel that barely covered anything. Bucky was sitting on the bed with a book in his hands, the story now long forgotten when he sees you sitting by the vanity, applying your lotion. You let the towel drop to the floor, now bare naked while rubbing silky cream onto your sensitive skin. 

“Fuck, y’can’t do that doll” Bucky groans, his eyes trailing to your peaked buds down to your stretch marks and plush thighs, the soft rolls of your back making him feral, something he desperately wants to grab and squeeze them in his hands. “Let me help you, mama” 

He’s about to set his book down but you can’t help but tease him, shaking your head instead. 

“Y’know I can do this myself baby, I need to move around, doctors orders” 

He knows you’re right but that doesn’t stop all his blood rushing down to his now aching cock, screaming for attention. He palms himself, hoping it’d be enough to calm down but nope. You start to massage your swollen breasts, the smirk on your face shows you know what your doing. His cock ends up in his hand, book thrown aside, chest heaving up and down. 

“Fuck, m’so hard” He moans, stroking himself while you giggle, continuing with your routine. “S’not fair babygirl, makes my cock hurt when you look so pretty like that” 

He’s careful to use slow, languid strokes because any tighter and he’d cum all over his fist. At some point his metal hand cups his balls because his body feels too hot and they’re so fucking full. He could cum just from watching you but he’s more greedy than ever. 

“Mama. c’mere, please” he pleads with glassy eyes between moans, struggling to keep his eyes open. 

“Need something Jamie?” You coo, your perfect naked form causing spurts of precum to shoot from his tip while you saunter over to him, removing his hand from his cock and pulling him to stand up. He’s about to ask what you’re doing, stuttering when you bite your lip. 

“Oh god, fuck, no, you-you can’t-” He chokes out while you sink to your knees, taking the head  of his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around. He sobs at how angelic you look, your breasts heavier than ever, tummy nearly touching the floor. You’re a whole Goddess, on your knees, sucking his dick, pregnant with his baby, Bucky swears he’s died and gone to heaven. 

“Fuck, A-angel, don’t do this to me, m’gonna cum so much, feels too good, you’re so pretty” He cups your cheeks with softly, whining when you pull of him with a pop, his arousal making your lips and chin glossy, dribbling down your neck. 

“Go on daddy, mark me” You smirk while he furiously jerks his cock above your face, cursing under his breath, his cock swelling in his fist. He feels his balls pull tight to his body, his heavy length leaking and already dripping on your face. 

“OH GOD” He nearly roars, coating your entire face with his warm, sticky spend. “FUCK YES” he lets the last few drops fall onto your belly, your body perfectly covered in him. He kisses it all off with sloppy kisses, hard again with him minutes, this time filling your perfect pussy up instead. 

By the time he’s done, you need to shower again anyway, which he’s perfectly happy with, this time excited to join you. 

“C’mon mama, lets get you cleaned up again” 

Sorry. 

[urhoneycombwitch]

Ok ok hear me out I have a different idea now after reading your phone sex blurb

What about after Eddie comes back from his tour they're out with friends and some other girl is chatting him up, trying to rub up on him in front of reader. And she wants to stake her claim but she can't because he's not hers, not technically; and he isn't into the other girl's attention because he just wants reader, but he can't be too earnest about that bc it'll scare her off.

Do I want them to grind on the dancefloor or have sex in the bathroom? Yeah maybe

foreword: more roommate!Eddie x reader filth. secret situationship fucking at a party style. ty anon <3

wc: 1.8k

cw: secret FWB, Reader with breasts + vagina, femme pet names used, fingering (R receiving), the return of Eddie Cums-In-His-Pants Munson, wee bit angsty, lots of hidden longing

____

This party is the most sound your apartment has ever heard- speakers thrumming bass lines through the floorboards, drunken friends’ laughter echoing off walls.

You and Eddie planned ahead, started plotting weeks ago to bribe various neighbors in the building to avoid catching a noise complaint- scratch brownies for the floor below, some pre-rolls handed off across the hall, party invites extended to whoever was in earshot.

Informal karaoke kicked off around midnight, as the room rose in heat from extra bodies and alcoholic flush; Robin and Steve are bringing down the house on the other side of the bathroom door, charming the crowd with a belligerently intoxicated rendition of a Beastie Boys hit.

Eddie’s got you pressed against the sink, your ass to the unforgiving marble of the counter while he teases his teeth over the skin of your neck.

“No marks,” you whisper, fist seizing up at the root of his hair, tugging. He stifles a moan into your skin while you continue to tell him off, voice just under the protective layer of music. “It’s bad enough there’s only one bathroom in this place. Someone’s bound to notice we’re both gone-”

Eddie suddenly drops to his knees, nosing at the strip of skin above your jeans that he lifts your shirt to reveal. Your breath stutters, and he grins before popping the button with his teeth, chocolate eyes eclipsed by the black-lust of his pupils.

“No one’s gonna hear you, ‘cuz you’re not gonna make a sound. Got it?”

The gush of arousal that meets Eddie’s fingers is invitation enough. You rock into his hand, and he angles his fingers up- you take two of them like a dream, as if your cunt had just been waiting to be filled by those long, dexterous digits, cold rings quickly warming to the skin-temperature of your thighs.

“That’s it,” Eddie mumbles, never more mouthy than when he’s face to face with his favorite pastime. And then, as if reading your mind- “Been waitin’ for me all night, hm? Poor thing. So wet…”

Outside, the song rises into a fast guitar solo bridge, quickening along with your breaths. Hoping there’s enough sound barrier, you brace yourself with one hand on the counter while the other buries itself into the heat of Eddie’s scalp.

Soft, dark curls slip between your knuckles, your thumb brushing gently under the layer of bangs to touch the bare skin of his forehead. It’s too tender, too endearing for what the moment calls, in direct contrast with the way Eddie’s plunging into you, the insistent, budging slope of his nose near the pounding apex of your thighs.

“Becca’s gonna notice.” Your thumb tracks a path to Eddie’s temple, so now you’re just cradling his head as he fingers you into oblivion. “You know- ah- Becca? The girl from down the hall that you invited, specially?”

If it wasn’t for the public setting, you’d take more time to calculate which buttons of Eddie’s to push; as it stands, you’re sort of flailing around in the dark, hitting random ones and seeing what lights up.

Seems to do the trick, though- in one fluid motion, Eddie shoves your jeans the rest of the way down and takes one of your knees over his shoulders, giving himself enough room between your legs to dip forward and latch onto on your clit.

His plush lips suck, fervently, in time with the rhythm of his curled fingers, managing to hit into that gummy spot that buckles your knees.

“Well Becca- isn’t- here, right now,” Eddie says, around lapping mouthfuls of you, hand on your hip near-bruising with the force it takes to keep you upright. “Besides, she invited herself.”

“I dunno… you seemed pretty excited to see her.” The muscles of your abdomen clench, then release, your head tipping backwards to thunk against the mirror.

There’s an arch in your spine, now, enough space for Eddie’s hand to migrate from your hip to low back, pulling you more insistently onto his tongue and fingers.

In response, the spot behind your navel tightens again, pleasure swelling with the music. It’s irritating that Eddie thinks you’ll drop the subject in favor of an orgasm, so you aim for another button, lashes fluttering at the ceiling, voice stretched thin as your resolve- “She gonna stay the night? Use the same bathroom you’ve finger-banged some other b-”

The wet, hot pressure on your clit disappears, a whine of protest crawling from your throat before Eddie can smother it with his palm. Luckily, the living room speakers are kind of shitty, crackling with feedback as the song reaches fever pitch volume.

Eddie’s fingers still within you, stretching to depths that make your eyes roll back as he rises to cover the length of your body with his own. His hand is big and warm over the lower half of your face, breath an angry huff by your ear as he growls, low- “It’s probably in your best interest to not finish that sentence.”

It’s some consolation that you have the option to bite. Tempting as that is, you let your glare speak for itself, brows knitting together as Eddie draws back to look at you.

There’s a bead of sweat running down the side of his jaw, disappearing into the curls he’s let loose for the night. The eyeliner you’d carefully applied for him pre-party is blurred from the humidity and exertion, a rosy flush in his cheeks to match.

Eddie crowds your vision, close enough for you to note the tiny freckle under his left eye twitch, and for a moment, everything is just him- all you can see, hear, touch, smell, dopamine flooding in a head spin of hormones that respond despite your best efforts to tamp them down.

The background noise fades away, and it’s just you and Eddie, panting and straining against the other. A squelch, as he adds a third finger, your breasts pushing into the solid expanse of his chest as you squirm up, mindlessly seeking release.

“Be good and come ‘fore this song is over,” he’s saying, thick fingers scissoring, your resounding moan stifled by his palm. “Then I’ll kick everyone out and let you come again.”

It’s the promise of another that undoes you, thighs shaking with the growing wave, lashes tickling Eddie’s knuckles as your eyes slam shut.

He keeps all the points of pressure that you need, plus more- hips pinning the frenetic rolls of your torso, tips of his fingers coaxing bright spasms from the channel of your cunt, forehead pressed like an anchor to your own as your body sings.

The whole time, he’s talking you through it, deep timbre just for your ears with rasping praise and encouragement. “Oh, fuck, sweetheart, that’s it. That’s it. Good. Let it all out. S’just me here, yeah? Just you and me. Fuck…”

By the time your hearing returns, Eddie’s dotting soothing kisses up the curve of your neck, apparently trusting you enough to let his hand drop from your mouth. You take a few deep, shuddering breaths, hand still buried in Eddie’s hair like a lifeline.

He doesn’t seem to mind, taking his sweet time pulling out of you, disentangling himself with lingering touches to any remaining bare skin.

While he tugs your shirt back into place, you turn to face the mirror, smoothing over flyaways and making sure you look somewhat presentable. You let Eddie’s hands roam as your heart rate stutters, working itself back down to normal while he refixes the button of your jeans.

His chin settles on your shoulder, arms twining around your middle; you let him take some of your weight, relaxing into his hold, eyes catching his in the mirror as you ask, quietly, “You want me to wingman for you? She seems nice. And it’s never a bad idea to sleep with someone who lives in your building.”

Eddie snorts, your dry attempt at a joke working wonders, grin on its way to devastating greeting your reflection. “You seriously think I’m the one who needs help? After the time I just showed ya?”

“Well based on my limited data-” your hips grind backwards without warning, and Eddie stiffens, smile slipping from his face as your own wicked grin takes over- “-I’d say you’re the one who came in his pants just from touching me.”

You wriggle in his arms to turn around, noses bumping, lips hovering in a not-quite-kiss as you whisper, “Say please and I’ll run and get you some new pants. Hand-delivered.”

Even with the wall of party noise, there’s a distinctive click as Eddie’s jaw ticks. He acquiesces, though, stopping somewhere just shy of grateful to grit out, “Please.”

You hum, pleased and thoughtful, leaning out of his space to lift a brow- “I think Becca’s into blue-collared boys.”

This fact, you’re basing off the one time you saw a UPS guy at your neighbor’s door. Sounds a lot better if you act like you know what you’re talking about, though, as if the list of things you know about Becca is longer than black hair and occasionally receives packages.

Distance, safety, one and the same, even though what your body begs for is to get closer, to soak all your senses in Eddie again. You wind a particularly pretty curl of his around your index finger. “Those khakis you wore once to Robin’s grad party and then never again- bottom drawer?”

When Eddie nods, he fixes you with a glare, nostrils flaring like he’s about to tell you off.

Before he can, though, you’ve wriggled from his grasp, reaching for the door handle with strict, hissy instructions about locking it after you’re gone and only opening for your special knock.

He obeys, deadbolt sliding into place, door swallowing the noise of the party in your absence.

It’s just Eddie now, leaning into hands over the sink, breathing hard like he hasn’t already blown a load three minutes ago.

The entire length of his middle fingers shimmer in the light, still coated with your arousal.

Eddie’s mouth waters. He thinks about you; how for a second, you were the only thing on his mind, how rare that is, for him to be so singularly focused.

Then he thinks about Becca. And stupid tight fucking dress pants.

The sink water gushes to a start as he jerks the handle on, sudsy hand soap scrubbing away at the smell of you, carrying it down the drain.

By the time you’re back, dreaded pants in hand, Eddie’s fixed an easy smile on his face, bickering at the ready. Almost normal, and certainly familiar.

It’s just simpler to keep some distance. Close quarters aside.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

PLEASE! I BEG THAT YOU WRITE AN MIGUEL O’HARA FICTION! IM BEGGING!! PLEASEE!!!! (Sorry if I come off harsh)

Ask and you shall receive!! A quick thing I wrote (not proofread), thanks for the ask <3

Touch

Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel misbehaves. You teach him a lesson. part one maybe?? idk y'all let me know if u want a pt 2. (Part 2 is out!)

warnings: pwp!! light f-dom, angry (ish??) sex, grinding, slight m-sub, (m) begging. mostly just filth. I am soooo desperate for any character played by Oscar Isaac. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: I apologise in advance, native Spanish speakers. Me and reverso tried our best. 

wc: 1.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A great crash from the workshop has you running from all the way in the kitchen, apron still on. 

He looks tired, hunched over his desk. Great hulking shoulders hang, tense in the dim light of a single lamp.

"Miguel?" It's soft, in the metallic hum of lights. "Everything okay?" 

He shifts, looking over his shoulder at you. "M'sorry for the noise mi sol, just tired." 

"...maybe it's time to call it a night, baby."

He waves you off with a flick of the wrist.   "Give me ten minutes, I'll come to bed."

"That's what you said half an hour ago, Miggy." It's under your breath but loud enough that his super senses pick it up.Your voice is fraught, frustrated - no doubt at the nights he'd spent away from you. Whether coming back late from tinkering in his workshop, or on the streets; he'd meet you fast asleep in bed, and wake up to an early morning rush. Either way, he seemed like a stranger in your own home; consumed with his work. It was taking its toll. 

You pad back, returning to the kitchen in silence. You clean up the remnants of a dinner Miguel had picked at, sighing. You loved him, and you knew he loved you; but he lived in his own world sometimes. Sure, the world needed him; but what about you? After everything you had given each other, how could he discard you so easily? 

It's only after a while Miguel realises the noises of you clearing up have long subsided, that he heads into the kitchen to investigate. It's meticulously clean, your apron hanging up on its peg by the door. On the counter, the remainder of his dinner boxed up in tupperware, with a post-it-note on the lid. 'For Miggy <;3' , it reads. 

His heart aches as he walks towards your room. You're dressed in nothing but his t-shirt, knees drawn and curled up into yourself. He slides into bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Mi vida?" He mumbles. "Mi vida, I know you're awake." 

You respond with an unceremonious grunt, back still turned. You're mad at him, and he deserves it. 

"I'm sorry." He says, listening to the rise and fall of your chest in the dark. He sits up. Sighing, he cradles your arm, tracing circles into the flesh. Gentle, and oh so soft. "I'm an idiot, you know that. I fucked up. Couldn't see how much you were hurting."

You stir, turning to face him. In the neon lights that stream into your room, his face falls. He brings a hesitant hand to cup at your cheek. 

"Say something. Please." Imperciptably, he watches your eyes fall to his lips. 

You kiss him, passionate and hot and angry. He can barely breathe when you envelope your plush lips around his, snaking your hand towards his back. You claw at his shirt, raking a hand into his hair. When you separate, it's obscene; a sliver of saliva still connecting his lips to yours. His scarlet eyes are low as he licks his lips; chasing your taste. You both sit up. 

"You haven't touched me in weeks, Miguel." Your voice is dangerously low, hand wrapped around his neck.

He wraps strong hands around your waist, guiding you to straddle him. For once, he's grateful for the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt - thin around the apex of your pebbled nipples. He paws at your hips, hands trailing towards your bare thighs. Just as they come to rest towards their crook, you snatch his hands away. 

"Let me make it up to you," He hisses at the contact, leaning into your touch. "Por favor, sólo una probadita, just a taste, my love."

"No touching." Dramatic, he protests, cursing in Spanish before you bring a thumb to his mouth to silence him. 

"No. Touching."

Eyes lidded, looking up at you, it takes everything not to break; you fight the urge to kiss the tip of his nose and whisper praise into the crook of his neck. Instead, you coax your thumb into his mouth; as he swirls his tongue around it, like he would on your clit. Miguel savors it like the sweetest honey, grateful you'll even touch him considering how he's been acting. 

He swells in his pants, hard as the crotch of his sweats graze your bare pussy. Beautiful tits pressed against his chest,  you draw small circles with your waist against the seat of his crotch. Precum spills as his hips jump up to meet you, desperate for contact. 

Immediately, you stop. With a pop, you pull your thumb from his mouth and Miguel moans at the loss. 

"Mierda. Baby, please-"

"No. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to use you to get off. You're gonna watch, if you're lucky. And then I'm…" You swirl your hips, causing him to groan. "... going to bed." 

"¿Entiendes?" You croon, spiteful in the slow sway of your hips. "Do you understand, Miguel?" 

"-f-fuck, ok, ok-" Desperately nodding, he grips the sheets by his side. Closing his eyes to steady himself, he slumps his head on your shoulder. God, he's trying so, so hard not to cum right there; turned on by the lull of your sweet voice. He likes it when you get angry and treat him like a toy - painfully hard at the way you light him on fire. Everything about you; your scent, the way you taste, the grip you have in his hair; turns his senses up to eleven. 

You grind on his crotch, steadying yourself with your other hand on his shoulder. Plush lip tucked under your teeth, it takes all his willpower not to capture you in another kiss: hungry and consuming and overpowering. He can tell you're serious; everytime he grinds his crotch into yours, you will yourself to stop and tighten your grip. 

"Miguel…" You warn, moaning softly into his ear. "I m-meant what I said…"

When his hips snap up the third time; you growl, frustrated. Both your hands move to his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress so he's on his back. He looks good like this; at your mercy and putty under your hands. You push up the lip of his shirt to expose his midsection and pull down his sweats. A happy trail snakes down to his neatly trimmed cock; its deliciously curved tip springing free. Precum covers his cock, so when you slide him between the lips of your pussy it glides like he was made for you. You bite down on your lip so hard, it almost bleeds. 

With this new angle, you plant your hands by his head; grinding your clit onto his dick desperately. The slick sounds drive Miguel crazy, and when his hands fly to your waist to help you along, you don't move them. 

"You're s-so pretty, mi vida… prettiest thing I've ever seen. Need it. Need you. Use me, please, hump my cock like I'm your toy, p-please, please…"

He knows your body better than you do. You're close, dangerously near the edge. With the way your thigh shakes and the spasms that slow your rhythm, he knows. You don't break eye contact with him under you, moaning as you slide on his cock. Desperate, you chase that sweet spot, electric when he angles your hips just so… 

"M'gonna cum, fuck, Miggy-" You writhe desperately. He's close, too, shamelessly humping your pussy like a feral animal. He can taste it; white hot at the tip of his tongue. Finally, you cum: a leg shaking, biting orgasm that rips through you. You clench around nothing, but it's not enough for him. So, so close; and it's ripped away from him when you come down, in the aftermath. 

Unceremoniously, you pant and roll off of him; spread-eagle atop the sheets. Miggy curses softly at his ruined orgasm - still rock hard. He's glad you feel good, but he knows he can make you feel better, broad hands pawing at your hips. You slap them off, and turn your back pointedly. The slope and curve of your ass taunts him. 

"Fuck off, Miguel."

"Baby, I'm sor-" 

"Fuck. Off."

Sighing, he takes the hint. Grabbing the pillow, he pads off to the sofa in your living room, adjusting his hard on. He'd give you your space, tonight, and begin to win you back tomorrow morning. He needs you, more than you'd ever know. 

_

_

_

[tarjapearce]

What is Mama an Miguel’s fave sex position?

Jsksj omg nonny. NSFW undercut

Miguel absolutely LOVES Doggy style. Specially when he presses your head further into the mattress, muffling your cries and your ass is displayed before him in all it's glory.

He loves watching his fat cock slide in into your weeping pussy, stretching to his girth cause you feel so perfectly warm and tight for him, and he loves watching his cum rolling down your clit.

Missionary is another one of his favorite. Specially when he's feeling particularly romantic and want to enjoy you thoroughly. It's one of his favorites cause he gets to see all of your expressions while he's inside you.

He loves loves so badly when you're cupping his cheeks, mumbling how much you love eachother within blown breaths and pants as he wraps your legs around his waist. Eye contact is a MUST. He'll kiss you nonstop until you look at him in the eyes. And he can cradle you as you come undone underneath him.

He relishes into feeling your despair for him. That consuming need only he sates, leaving you both begging for air, disheveled and his front strands colliding against your forehead. It's so intimate. And you calling him Mi amor in that sweet moaning voice during?

He really means it when he tells that you have no idea the things you do with his mind.

The Spider. C'mon. What a better position to have him underneath you just for him to see how well you take him? And when you're extra needy, he'd lean back and enjoy the show, looking how well you fuck yourself to him and talking you through it. Controlling the pace.

Reverse Cowgirl cause, yeah, it morphs into doggy style. Plus he just lose it as soon as he sees your ass jumping and bouncing ontop of him, taking him like a champ. He loves watching the size of his hands groping and squeezing your ass.

When he's extra needy and kinky, He'd slap any surface he can reach while plumbing your insides, specially when you beg him to not be gentle.

As for Mama, needless to say, Mama loves it rough, but also enjoys a good vanilla from time to time.

Mating press is on the top list cause you love feeling the teasing stretch of Miguel inch by inch as he delves inside. His 6'9" caging you completely in his strong frame makes your orgasm mind shattering. Some even have you laughing like a total fool while he renewes your walls white.

The Prone Bone, works wonders, specially if you're tired but in need of your beefy man to rearrange your guts, specially after a stressful day on both ends. He loves when you're biting either the pillow or sheets

Flatiron is your own version of the missionary. Having such a fine man as your husband to talk both the sweetest things and pure filth in your ear while he smothers you with his body, specially when he cradled and embraces you to then bite your earlobe, and sets the pace for a slow and torturing tempo.

You live for his whimpers and wanton moans as you squeeze him, making your walls to snug him in a Pompoir choke. He can feel everything, and so do you.

Hearing him a moaning and grunting mess above you makes your imagination and senses to soar in delight.

The L, is perfect to have your insides well plowed and milked while Miguel kisses your ankle and thigh. Plus, it grants you a good clit massage from your husband.

You're somehow flexible, given Miguel's size, your muscles have accustomed to his manhandling and melding.

Against the wall? Of course. Having no room to breath properly while he fucks the daylights out of you is simply delicious and oh so kinky if you're doing it in the laundry room, mouth covered and hoping that Gabi doesn't knock on.

The thrill of being absolutely quiet to the point of your pussy and it's continuous 'zrup-ing' noises were heard every time he slid in, was matchless.

His neck was full of bites and his chest adorned with little hickeys. His back with delicious scratches, he wore proudly underneath his button shirt.

Whenever you used sweaters or pants, meant that he had left your inner thighs marked with either his own share of lovebites and fangs grazing. Only to remove your clothes at night to admire his handiwork and look for new places to put them in.

[ddejavvu]

Hey Mei 🫶

Here’s my idea - BAU!wife who yells at Hotch when he yells at their team members because she’s a protective momma bear. And hotch secretly loves it because his wife yelling gets him all hot and bothered.

Love you 🫶 and your writing thank you 🧡

Perhaps it's an unwise idea to pick a fight with your surly husband, especially because he doubles as your surly boss. But Spencer hadn't even been that late, and you know he only walked in late because he takes public transportation, and he couldn't control that the bus was late. And, Aaron's only in such a sour mood because Jack had given him typical teenage attitude before school this morning. So really, Spencer didn't deserve the near-shouted lecture he'd gotten.

You march over to the young doctor's desk, happy that his aversion to touch applies to people he's not familiar with. He leans into your stomach when you pull his head to rest on it, albeit stiffly, and you call after your husband with narrowed, fierce eyes.

"Aaron, come back here right now and apologize." You demand, and the already icy mood in the office shifts a few degrees colder. Aaron stops on the stairs and by the tightness of his shoulders he's composing himself, then he turns on his heel and raises a thick brow at you.

"What?"

"He didn't deserve that," You scold him, keeping Spencer's head cradled to your stomach as you stroke down his back, "He's a baby."

Aaron rolls his eyes, "He is not a baby, Y/N. He's a grown man with a government job, and I expect him to show up to it on time."

"He does! He's early every single other day," You remind him, "But the bus came late today! How was he supposed to get here? Uber? You know he doesn't know how to download new apps! Let alone link his bank account to pay the guy. He was seven minutes late, for fuck's sake, just leave him alone!"

Aaron looks like he wants to snap. You've gnashed your teeth at him, and he's lived the life of a fighting dog thus far, so you know you're treading in dangerous waters. But after a rather intense stare down in which you feel Spencer's face heating up through the fabric of your shirt, your husband swallows his pride and mutters, "I expect you in my office within five minutes, Y/N."

Spencer mumbles some feeble protest on your behalf but you pat his back to shush him, letting go so that he can straighten up again.

"Don't worry," You send him a warm smile, "I can handle him. Call me if you ever need a ride again, okay? We can come pick you up."

"Okay." He nods, but it's most likely only to deter you from pampering him with any more motherly affection, as he looks like he's going to wilt from it, "Thanks, Y/N."

"Anytime," You squeeze his shoulder, passing your concerned teammates unbothered smiles as you make your way to Aaron's office.

He's only recently sat down when you arrive, but you notice that he's conveniently sitting so that the desk blocks your view of his lower half. You stand at attention in front of his desk, playing coy like you don't know what's coming next.

"Do you enjoy questioning my authority in front of my team?" He asks you, voice carefully even and tight.

"I enjoy doing anything that makes your dick twitch, Aaron." You announce, your tone deceptively casual for the filth you're spewing, "Did you haul me in here to fuck me over the desk? The blinds are still open, don't you think that's a little distasteful?"

Your attitude only makes him more uncomfortably aroused, and he regrets getting his suits tailored so precisely, as his pants have little give. He leans forwards across his desk, dark eyes boring into yours.

"No. I hauled you in here to tell you that I'm going to fuck you over the desk. But not yet. You're asking for it now, so I'm not giving it to you. Maybe if you'd been a little more polite, I'd have given you what you wanted. But now you're going to wait, because you decided to bicker with me over the rules of this office. Rules that I set, because I am in charge of keeping this team on track."

The harsh tone of his voice makes your stomach twist, and you're feeling your heartbeat in two places. You stand there, saliva slowly accumulating on your tongue, until he raises a brow at you, unimpressed.

"Don't do that again. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." You lay on the formality hot and heavy, practically purring it and watching as he shifts slightly in his seat, "I'll be waiting, whenever you decide you can't take it anymore."

"Careful." He snaps, eyes ablaze at your implication that he'll be the one to break, "Don't dig yourself any deeper. Dismissed."

You turn to leave with a satisfied smirk on your face, and perhaps you exaggerate bending over to pick up a stray paperclip that you notice on the floor by his door.

"Here," You pad back across the room to hand it to him, not missing the way that he's tense all over, "See you in twenty, Hotchner."

[tyforthevnm]

frnkiero andthe cellabration at The Orbit Room, Grand Rapids, MI on September 12, 2014 | Mary Moline

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

A/N: Small piece of filth, hope you enjoy ❤️

“Driving me crazy. Don’t know why you do that.” Another bit of babbling you-speak, poured out in waves, interwoven through your whines and moans, Steve notes. Or rather, tries to, given the predicament of being on his back as you use him to your satisfaction.

You’d stared him down like he was prey for the last several months, always shaking your head, clicking your pen until it broke. Then there were the signs that made Steve realize, with a lopsided smirk (that only made it worse), that you weren’t in fact mad at him, not in a serious way anyways. Your hitch in breath every inch closer that he came to you, the way you melted into him if he just brushed by you, or how your legs would tighten, feet would bounce, to the way that you’d chew on your fingertip when he was bent over putting stock out and he knew exactly what you were looking at. When he talked about dates or flirted with girls that came in, you’d roll your eyes and be obnoxious in the background to sabotage unknowingly, but he found it endearing. And when he bought himself his new diamond chain to go with his mustard colored shirt for the fancy dinner in Indianapolis the older kids had all gone to, your public exasperation is partially what led to the moment.

It wasn’t until the following Monday that it exploded in full. Steve was at work on your shift, you were dealing with a sore wrist after his ensemble at Saturday’s excursion. And the stupid bastard had the nerve to wear that blinged out piece of jewelry beneath his button up, all black polo. You slammed a stack of video tapes down and had blew out a rough breath, working your way around the counter to ask Steve ‘what the fuck his problem was?’ And in truth, he’d worn the chain again just to gauge your reaction, before making his move. Sure, you’d been close friends all up in emotional arms for years, but the sexual tension was more alive than ever and could no longer be ignored.

With one hand on his waist, the other propped on the counter, he grinned lazily at you, fresh highlights looking perfect with his grown out tresses under the cheap lighting, jeans tight on his toned legs and perfect ass.

“Oh my god, Steve! You’re just… You’re —“

“I’m what?” He’d said, folding his arms to accentuate his biceps.

Your jaw had dropped rather comically and Steve is pretty sure you whimpered in defeat. You were caught.

“You know what you are, shithead. And I can’t take this shit anymore, it’s too much!” You’d gotten closer, talking with your hands. How Steve loves your hands. And you gave pause, brows pinched. “Wait, is that new cologne?”

Steve had pulled his shirt out to bare thicker chest hair, shrugging. “No, same ol’ stuff.”

“Can you stop, please?” You had sounded completely out of it, your pupils blown, leaving your beautiful eye color a thin ring, nearly transparent to the aroused abyss he’d created.

“Tell me what I’m doing, honey. Can’t stop if I don’t know…” Steve reached out with a finger, his confidence having greatly improved the last year within your friendship, and he traced down your cheek.

“Oh, shit.” Was all you could come up with.

With his thumb pressing at the corner of your mouth, massive hand cradling your jaw, he’d unraveled the knot with, “It’s okay if you say you want me, baby. Because I want you, too.”

~*~

Your hand looks small in comparison to his large girth, shining with what you’d slicked him up in, your babbling from before, slowly fading. His mossy orbs have shattered, their shards prickling you in an electrical stimulation, on you everywhere. His massive hands pinch your plush waist, every tendon visible on his jugular, his throat contracting around a harsh swallow as your fist around his base meets your body - seating him fully inside you. It hurts so bad that you welcome him to see the tears, see the glistening mess of your cunt spread open around his cock, cream bubbling in his base and smeared across his happy trail. You’ve never felt this before, this power, this safety, this want, this love.

Steve tosses his head back as your hips give an experimental rise and fall, sweat soaked backs of your knees feeling the pressure. He’s inside of you so deeply that you can barely move, his length dragging, pushing against every inch of your walls. You’re overcome in the moment and grab his big paws, curling his thick digits around your breasts and holding them together as you begin to roll your hips, never taking your eyes off him. He let out a moan that vibrates through you, his bed beginning to squeak beneath your rocking. His neck is visible again at this, scars beneath the chain, sweat glittering around and beneath the links, every freckle, every mole there, making him Steve.

Your movements have briefly slowed and he realizes, eyes open as you’re staring with this smirk. He gives your nipples a flick and releases, linking hands, to bring yours to his and kiss each knuckle he can get his mouth on. That’s when he’s flipping you with ease, knees sliding underneath your thighs, hands pinning yours to the bed as his nose finds your lashes, mouth planting his words across your lips; cinnamon breath spray, coffee, and cigarettes ghosting with each hot breath, “Don’t get too cocky, honey.”

On the break away, his chain sways forward, links getting caught on your lips. You take the jewelry into your mouth, sucking on the taste of the material, Steve’s chest tufts drag along your breasts as he fucks you on him with an ease so slow, that you can’t find cohesive speech for the rest of the night.

// Eat me paragraph //

[gguksgalaxy]

The Smart Thing | JWW

You come home ready to sleep your stress off in the arms of your boyfriend, he seems to have other plans in mind. Ones that don't quite include rest.

›› Genre: Smut (legit just filth) ›› Rating: 18+ (explicit s-x) ›› Pairing: Wonwoo x f.Reader ›› Wordcount: 2.4k ›› Warnings: Fingering (f.rec), unprotected s-x (in a relationship, be safe) while half asleep, manhandling and holding her in place, Wonwoo's a bit of a tease, bit of crying, one (1) spank, petnames, praise, begging, cr-ampie, probably missed something. Ik it sounds similar to Mingyu's but trust it isn't fjdlsk ›› Mingyu ver. ›› This one was a bit of a struggle but I hope you guys like this as well. If you do, let me know!! <3 And again thanks to the lovely @homerunhansol for proofing this and giving me confidence

No matter how deep his slumber, Wonwoo always wakes at the feeling of your body hitting the bed. His hands cradle you better than the sheets, body providing warmth that soothes the exhaustion in your bones. Perhaps you don’t need sleep, just the feeling of him slotting his body against your back. The rumble in his chest when he hums against your neck, kisses down your shoulder. His presence provides the last thing you need to relax, to become pliant to his touch. Your eyes fall shut, sleep creeping up the edges of your consciousness. The same way his fingers inch under the fabric of your shirt. 

“You’re late,” Wonwoo breathes, voice roughened with sleep.

You let out a breathy chuckle. “T’was busy.” You’re barely audible, halfway to dreamland when you notice where his hands are going. Nimble fingers dancing along the crease of your breast, tongue darting out to taste your skin over your pulsepoint. “Wonwoo,” you warn.

He shushes you, lets his teeth sink into your earlobe. It has you swimming, the warm touch of his palm over your tits, nails teasing along your nipples. Quick sparks of pleasure keep you on the edge of sleep. The sleep that you very much needed and were craving for the past hours. And now that you’re here, comfortable between the sheets and your lover, you’re tempted to stay awake a bit longer. Just to see how far he’s willing to take this to jeopardise his own rest. 

You let out a soft moan when he tweaks your nipple, eyes fluttering shut, head sinking further into the pillow. He’s gentle with it—gentle with you. Any protest to go to sleep dies on your tongue. The way he’s playing you isn’t about him. He’s all over you. Kneads at your chest like he could mould you to his hands. You already are though. 

Moulded to the shape of him that is. The way you crane your head back to give him more space to kiss you. The perfect fit of your tits in his hands. The press of his leg between yours. He takes you apart so easily, wetness gathering against the cotton of your underwear. But none of it is enough to jolt you, barely enough to keep you awake. Awake enough to tell that he’s growing hard behind you, but not awake enough to do much about it. You’re in the most beautifully warm place. Swimming in arousal and cushioned by the precipice of sweet sleep.

“You’re so sexy like this,” he mumbles into your skin, hand sneaking down to feel how wet you are. It has him groaning, hot breath puffing against your skin. “So pliant for me.”

His words have your stomach clenching, a gush of wetness between your thighs. “Wonwoo,” you mumble, reaching a hand behind you to find the short hair at the nape of his neck. He turns into it, running his nose up your arm. “The smart thing to do would be to go to sleep.”

“I believe,” he starts, thumb pressing down over your clit over the fabric of your underwear, “the smart thing to do would be me.”

The words of rebuttal to his awful joke die on the back of your tongue when he grabs you tighter. He slides an arm under your neck, twisting it over your chest to pull you to him. You know this position, twist into him just as he wants with a leg spread over his hips. Give him full access to your body without as much of a word. You know what he wants, and you wouldn’t deny him. Because you’re well aware that it’ll be worth the time and lack of sleep.

Wonwoo wastes no time to slide his hand into your panties, fingers slipping between your wet folds and moaning at the feeling. Your entire body shivers, goosebumps from your neck to your fingers at his sounds. Your stomach clenches when his fingers circle your clit, then dip lower to slide into you. He knows you needed it, knew it better than you did, because you relax so easily at the feeling.  Your eyes once again fall shut, head tilting back over his shoulder. His mouth skims over your jaw, fingers still. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” he whispers, breathy, on the cusp between a chuckle and a moan.

You smile. “‘Could.”

He hums, nuzzling into your cheek before pulling his fingers out. Then he slides them back in slowly, makes you feel every single knuckle that enters you. He repeats this over and over and over. Provides no additional stimulation but the achingly slow drag of his fingers inside your cunt and it’s so good it almost does lull you to sleep. Your breathing evening out, chest heavy under his palm, legs lax. Just him around you, warm breaths and gentle fingers. 

A sharp slap to your thigh wakes you up instantly. It stings, blooms warm over your skin when he palms over it. No words follow, but the message is clear. Don’t fall asleep. 

You tilt your hips with a whine, empty, aching. He smiles into your skin, knows that you need him now that he’s given you a taste. Crave him more than the heavy pull of sleep. Soon, he fills you again, fingers more firm in their presses now. Less teasing, more pleasure, sending warmth coiling up your spine. Sweet little moans fall from your lips. He eats it up, lips on the corner of your mouth. All while he strokes your insides just right, palm brushing your clit with every pass. 

Your lover moans when you twist, pressing your ass into his now very hard crotch. “Baby,” you whine, tilting your head towards him even more. He doesn’t respond, merely nudges your head back with his, hand tightening on your tit where he holds it. “Baby, please.” You know Wonwoo won’t give you anything if he doesn’t deem you ready, but perhaps sleep clouds him enough to give in to you. “Need you.” 

His fingers sound slick inside of you, your wetness gushing out when he presses in deep, palm flat to your body. He’s so deep, you swear you can feel him in your stomach and it’s not even his cock inside of you yet. He presses right where you need him, right where he knows you’ll fall apart for him. Rubbing hard, having you moan loud, clenching hard as if to suck his fingers in even deeper. His name falls from your lips, barely audible, barely coherent. Dumb from the battle between pleasure and exhaustion. 

“You want to cum?” Wonwoo asks, whispers it into your ear with a graze of his tongue to your skin. You’re not close yet, but he can have you fall over that edge in a matter of seconds if he so pleases. 

You nod and grab his wrist, pressing your cunt close to him. “Woo.” The words escape you. A hiccup breaking from your throat because you’re too far gone to tell him you need to cum on his cock. He twists his fingers in a way that is just a little mean. Your toes curl when he does it again, and again, “Wonwoo!” you cry out, grabbing his wrist harder yet rutting closer. Your whole body is thrumming. 

“What is it?” He says it so sweetly, follows you as you curl onto your side, spoons you. Your legs close on his hand, trap him in your heat. “You know what,” Wonwoo trails his words off, wrestling his hand out from between your thighs. “I’ll be nice.”

You huff, but comply and wait. He grabs his pillow and rolls you onto it, hips propped up just enough for him to position himself between your legs from behind. There’s a rustle of fabric, the tantalising feeling of his palm smoothing down your back, and then the familiar feeling of him dragging the head of his cock through your soaked folds. 

It has your entire body on edge, trying to lift your hips to his, anything to feel him. He shushes you again, presses your back down to the sheets. Mumbles something about how he’s got you, will take care of you, loves you, as he teases you. 

When he finally presses in, you whine. Your walls stretch to accommodate him, and he blankets his body with yours as he sinks deeper. Bottoms out, hips to your ass, hands beside your head searching for yours. Like he needs you for purchase too, fingers finding a home between yours while you grab at the sheets. Shaking under him. 

He groans your name into your ear when you clench down hard at the first thrust. The press of him inside of you is so delicious, so familiar—but this angle has always been so much more intense. You barely feel conscious at this point, swimming. Wonwoo doesn’t seem to be doing any better, a deep curse falling from his lips when he pulls out and pushes back in all the way. Hips pressing so close to you to try and get that last inch in.  To get so deep you’ll feel him for days. Again, like he’s moulding you to the shape of him. 

You’d stay like this forever if you could. Hidden between your lover and the sheets. Slick sounds of your cunt sucking him in, him panting into your shoulder. He holds himself to you, the weight of him on top of you just right. As is everything. As he always is with you. And if he holds himself still for too long you will fall asleep to this. The warm pleasure of him filling you, the feeling of his heart beating against your back. You find yourself drifting, breaths evening out. 

“Stay with me, love.” Wonwoo doesn’t drag himself out of you, too lost in the feeling of being surrounded by your heat. Instead, he ruts himself against your body, providing friction that makes you whine sleepily. “I’m here,” he breathes, voice shaky with it all. Shaky like your body under his trying to process the pleasure coursing through you. 

Trying to find a way to get more—more of him. But he’s got you pinned. Body snug under his, hands intertwined, legs feeling like jello. He controls the pace, the depth, and thus how long this will go on for. How far he’s going to take this spiel, whether he’ll fuck you so slowly you can’t help but fall asleep, or he flips it and fucks you so hard you pass out. Both thoughts have your stomach coiling with arousal. 

One particularly hard thrust has your body jolting up the bed. His cock hitting you just right, just once. One warning until he’s back to slow grinding and heavy breathing. He kisses up and down your neck and shoulder while he enjoys your body laid out for him.

You need more.

“Woo,” you whine, high, high pitched and small. The pleasure bubbles up, his cock dragging along your walls, every inch of him torturously good. You’re dripping onto the pillow below you. But there is no way you’ll cum from just this. It’s divine, toe-curling, perfect, but you need more. Something other than this gentle assault on your senses. 

He hears you, always does. Slides a hand under you to where your body meets the pillow and parts your slick folds. Two fingers find your clit and rest there. Then, he lifts himself just a bit, enough to gain purchase and start really fucking you. Dragging his cock out and pressing back in. One smooth motion, a delicious back and forth that has you purring almost. Enough to push you back and forth over his fingers. Exactly what you’d needed. 

You’re on edge in seconds. The feeling of him inside of you, hitting that one spot he knows so well, and his rough-padded fingers over your clit send you hurtling towards your orgasm faster than you’d expected. Suddenly, you’re wide awake. Eyes pressed shut, hand tightening to his, moaning his name loudly, just once. 

“Almost there, love,” he answers. You have to bite into the pillow to hold back. Knowing the overstimulation would be too much. Knowing he wants to finish together. He’s close too, from the feeling of it. Thrusts a little shaky, breath a little ragged. The sound rumbles in his chest, followed by a whine. A sound you’ve only heard when he’s got it bad—bad for you. When he’s so lost in you that all control flies out the window. 

You want to see him like that. Want to watch his brows furrow, lip pulled between his teeth. Sweat lining his temples, flush on his cheeks. He always looks so heavenly when he’s taking you fully. No bells or whistles, just bare in the sheets in your home. Like right now—spare for your shirts. He groans your name again, and again, and sinks his teeth into your shoulder. His thrusts growing even harder. 

Hard enough to push you up the bed. To have you hiccuping and holding a hand against the headboard to stop yourself from moving too much. But fuck does it feel good. Pleasure courses through you, you hold your breath to not lose it right then and there. He can’t keep asking you to wait. Not when you’re this close. Not when you feel this good. 

Suddenly, his fingers slip—accidentally or on purpose—squeezing your clit between two digits. It sends you hurtling over the edge so hard. Tears well up in your eyes while you shake under him. Run down your cheeks when he slams into you and stills, his own body spasming with his own orgasm. You whine, followed by a sob ripping from your throat. He cums deep inside of you, but with how your ears are ringing and your limbs are shaking, you can barely tell. 

Can’t react when he slips out of you and fusses over your trembling form. Brushes your hair from your face, kisses your cheek where the tears left a trail. Tells you how good you did for him. It’s all a blur. One big fuzzy image of him everywhere and anywhere around you. That was probably one of the best orgasms he’s ever given you. 

He soothes a hand over your back. “Go to sleep, love. I’ll clean you off,” are the last words you hear before sleep pulls you in. 

taggins: @gyuswhore @chansgyu @hyunsunni

Thanks for reading and feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments, tags, or my inbox!! <3

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Frank castle prompt! Him and reader are apartment neighbors who share a thin wall and he can hear her string of bad one night stands through it, and it pisses him off. He thinks reader deserves better and decides to show her 🫣

oh that man would treat you right

smut warning!!

“What are you doing here, Frank?”

You’re barely dressed, your disappointing one night stand having left mere minutes ago. Your shirt barely covers your thighs, and Frank can’t help but run his eyes up and down your bare legs.

“I’m here to save us both.”

“Huh?”

He takes a step closer to you, leaning casually against your front door frame.

“I’m here to save us both.”

“Frank, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Your sex life. That’s what I’m talking about.”

You feel heat bloom across your chest, embarrassment threatening to eat you alive.

“What do you know about my sex life, Castle?”

You mentally commend yourself at your voice sounding a lot more stable than you feel.

“I know that you’ve been working your way through some of New York’s finest in hopes of finding a singular man that can make you come.”

Oh.

You didn’t expect him to read you for filth.

“Are you slut shaming me, Frank?”

“No, sweetheart. Come on, you know me better than that.”

You nod in reluctant agreement. Admittedly, you know he would never.

“Then what is this?”

“This is a… proposition. Your nightly disappointments are depriving me of sleep, pretty girl. Your fake moans, as sweet as they sound, are getting a little old. That wall is so thin.”

You wish the ground would swallow you up.

“Frank… I am so sorry. Fuck, I am so sorry. You should have told me sooner.”

“Sweetheart, I wasn’t finished. I’m here to fix both of our problems at once.”

“… You are?”

“Yes, I am. I’ll make you come so hard you’ll never look for another one night stand again, which, in turn, means I get a good nights sleep. It’s a win-win.”

You’re almost hyperventilating, chest heaving as you observe the way he looks at you. He’s staring at you like he wants to eat you alive.

You want him to.

He steps forward again, resting his forehead against yours as he cradles your face with his gun calloused hands.

“You can say no,” he murmurs against your lips. “I won’t be offended, babe. I promise. We can pretend this never happened.”

“I don’t want to say no,” you whisper back. “You gonna make good on your promise, Castle?”

He grins, looking at you with fire behind his eyes.

“I’ve never made a promise I couldn’t keep, honey. Can’t wait to hear how pretty you really sound.”

With that, he slams the door shut with his foot, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

There will be neighbours making noise complaints tonight. Frank certainly won’t be.

[biteofcherry]

Grain of Truth - part nine

Soft!Dark Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Reader

summary: You’re content with your quiet, peaceful life, but it suddenly becomes dangrously intense when an alpha, Steve Rogers, forces himself into it. You never believed nor seeked out the old fairytales of true mates, but Steve will make you admit there’s a grain of truth in every fairytale.

warnings for this chapter: fluff and feels; general cuteness and teasing; also some filth; oral; mild choking; few spanks here and there; oh and plants win!

word count: 4.6k

Main Masterlist

Grain of Truth Full Masterlist

Grain of Truth previous parts:   

 | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight |

You woke to a mouthwatering scent that had your stomach growling eagerly and to the feeling of a warm cocoon encasing you. With a sleepy hum, you blinked your eyes open. There wasn’t a single detail in your surroundings that you recognized, yet no sense of panic crept up your skin.

A faint, familiar scent was wrapped around you and it settled you down - your Alpha’s smell lingering on the blanket you were tucked under, as well on the large t-shirt he put on you after shower. 

As you let your eyes wander around the space, you realized you were no longer in Steve’s bedroom, but in the living room downstairs. The tv was on, the volume turned so low you barely heard the commentators on screen. Steve’s hearing was better than yours, he probably could make it out. 

Stretching, you slowly rolled onto your back and looked up at the ceiling. Flecks of light danced across the creamy surface. You didn’t hear Steve’s steps, so it surprised you when he suddenly appeared in your line of vision, looking down at you as he leaned over the back of a sofa you were resting on.

His hair was already dry and his light skin showed no pinkness - neither from the shower, nor from the exhaustive activities prior. As if Steve wasn’t even affected by a few days marathon of animalistic fucking. 

Damn Alphas, you thought enviously. Not only was their stamina greater, they also seemed to have a much better recuperation speed. Steve looked like he could go for another twenty four hours round, while you wondered if you would ever regain feeling in your poor numb pussy. 

You were certain your legs would still shake, if you tried to stand up and move on your own. 

You’ve had some experience in heat sex, even if most of the time you preferred to be alone with your toys. Those few times you had a partner during heat were an untiring, bland ordeals compared to the complete annihilation by your Alpha. 

“Did you rest well?” Steve asked, bracing his hands on the backrest of the sofa.

“Ask me in a week, or two,” you groaned, rubbing your face with both hands. 

Your glare at Steve’s laugh didn’t wipe away his broad grin. You considered smacking him with a pillow, but you still remembered what he threatened you with the last time you threw one at him. 

You really didn’t think you’d survive, if he was to make his promise come true. 

“Hungry?” Steve picked up the blanket, when you started tugging it off your body, and folded it neatly. 

“Very!” You nodded eagerly, your empty stomach growling its agreement. 

While during the heat you didn’t care about the food, not even a little bit, now you were famished. And it seemed nothing else was more tempting than stuffing yourself with food. Especially when the smell wafting from the kitchen was so delicious, you were ready to crawl there if needed. 

But you didn’t have to. Steve picked you up before you attempted to pull yourself up into a sitting position. He swiftly lifted you up and over the back of the sofa, cradling you against his chest in a bridal style. 

Wrapping both arms around Steve’s neck, you played with the strands of hair at the back of his neck.

It was an affectionate caress; something you did purposely, not only as a mindless gesture. A week ago you’d say it wasn’t intentional, that your post-orgasmic haze made you unaware of what you were doing. 

Though it was somewhat instinctive to do it now, too, you were also aware of the intimacy of it and that you chose to continue. 

You felt the reassuring calm seep through the one-way bond; Steve’s own affection for you a solid thing. It was deep and intense, a wide flame that seemed impossible to put down with any means. Perhaps it was why you felt safe falling into it; knowing it would be grounding for you, since it lacked chaos and blinding need, which would scare you off with fickle outbursts and immature recklessness.

That too was something you used to fear. The all consuming, escalated feelings of something unstable and somewhat toxic - similar to the way teenagers dramatically fell in love. 

But Steve’s love for you, this deep bond he was willing to create between you, was a seasoned, mature certainty. It spoke of awaiting growth and fulfillment, which held their own passionate thrill to it. 

Somehow you knew that everything with Steve would be so much more intense. Love. Sex. Arguments. Punishment. They wouldn’t be unstable, though, since they weren’t driven by childish fantasies.

“You’re going to keep carrying me?” You asked, with an unmasked, elated chirp in your tone.

“Until your legs stop shaking every time you try to put your weight on them,” Steve pinched your butt.

“So for about a month longer,” you deadpanned and Steve laughed.

The sound of it - deep and booming, rumbling in his chest - made you smile. 

You pressed a soft kiss to his neck, felt the big Alpha shudder at the simple, affectionate gesture. 

You wondered briefly, if it was because he was so open with the bond now, or maybe Steve always had this vulnerability with you, but you refused to see it; too stubbornly adamant on viewing him only as the pushy, possessive bastard who wouldn’t give you a choice.

He was pushy and possessive (you doubted that ever changes), but there was more to him than flaws you previously saw as his only trait.

“Maybe I should just keep you in bed, then?” Steve teased, placing you on the kitchen counter beside the sink. “A docile Omega, always naked and ready for her Alpha to take her.”

“I always knew you had a streak of a caveman,” you scrunched up your nose and wiggled your ass back to sit more comfortably, leaning your back against the kitchen window’s frame. 

“I never denied that.” Steve winked at you, squeezing your thigh before he stepped back. 

You watched him move over to the stove. There was something exceptionally hot and satisfying in the sight of this big, dominating Alpha in his half-naked state, preparing a meal for you. 

And he didn’t act as if it was something remarkable for which he should be praised. 

However, you thought the way his back muscle worked when he chopped and stirred was worthy of praise. Whistling even. 

Your gaze roamed over the wide span of Steve’s broad shoulders, appreciating that he still hadn’t put a shirt on. Then your eyes cast downwards, along his tapered waist and firm ass clad in low-hung, gray sweatpants. 

You were too hungry and too exhausted to follow with images that your mind supplied, but it was satisfying to remind yourself you could turn them into reality in a few days. Any day that you wished. 

Averting your eyes before Steve noticed you ogled him, you leaned more comfortably back and turned your head to peek outside the window. You saw the span of juicy green grass, trimmed, but kept tall enough your foot would sink into its softness if you walked barefoot.

You noticed a big, wooden construction right by this wall. Unfinished, with half-done floor; It looked to be built as an extension to the house. 

“Are you building a terrace?” You asked, though the tall roof of the wooden frame seemed unusual even for a roofed patio. 

Steve’s gaze flicked up to you, then followed your line of vision.  

“It’s a sunroom,” he replied, attention returning to the bubbling sauce in the pan. 

“For your plants.”

You turned your head swiftly, staring at Steve with wide eyes. He made it sound so casual, so simple, as if it wasn’t something that needed a further explanation. But his words sank deep, warming your chest from the inside. 

“For my plants?” Your voice was barely above a whisper; the question spoken hesitantly. “You- you’re building a sunroom for my plants? For me?”

Affection tugged at your heart. It struck strings that reverberated through your body with warmth and gratitude, threatening to elicit tears. The mushy wave of appreciation wasn’t for the sunroom itself, but for the fact that Steve did something so thoughtful.

It wasn’t just a gift to shower you with and win your graces, but something personally designed for you, suited for what you cared about the most. 

“When you move in with me, someday-” Steve sent you a pointed look that meant he wouldn’t welcome any argument regarding the matter, “I expect your jungle will move with you. You need a place to keep them in.” 

For now you didn’t comment on his assumptions about your living accommodation, since the controlling Alpha at least didn’t announce he expects you to move in right away. Which, honestly, you’d fight, regardless of your newfound fondness of Steve’s company. 

You were too enamored with his gesture to focus on anything that wasn’t a lovely image of lush greenery in a sun filled, glass room. 

“That’s-” your throat constricted with emotion- “too much. You didn’t have to.”

Steve looked at you, frowning. He put down the wooden spoon and turned off the oven. You swallowed hard when he nudged your legs apart and stepped between them. Both of his hands rested on your thighs, their heavy warmth somehow soothing your fluttering heart.

“Too much?” He sounded incredulous. “What kind of douchebags were you dating that you consider this too much?”

“Hey! They were nice.” you protested, scrunching up your nose. 

Maybe none of your exes was the love of your life and perhaps in some cases your ways parted with resentment, but you prided yourself on choosing good guys. With flaws, sure, but who didn’t have them. 

And occasionally they gifted you with lovely treats, flowers included. Cut flowers, bound in pristine bouquets that smelled dizzyingly (and died within days). The intent behind them mattered, you told yourself. But somehow it was more of an expected gesture than something done with genuine thought of your preferences.

Steve’s gift was grand. Not because of its size, but the fact it catered directly to what you loved. He understood how much you adored your plants and that you’d want them (and maybe more) wherever you moved. 

“Nice.” Steve jeered. “Doesn’t seem the right word to describe someone you’re in a relationship with.” 

“Is bossy asshole Alpha the right description?” You glared at him, mostly annoyed that he was right. Nice wasn’t a word that should be the first one to come to mind when you think of someone you’re supposedly in love with.

“Sure.” Steve’s fingers spread wide over your thighs as he leaned forward, tip of his nose almost touching yours. “It matches spanked hard bratty Omega.”

“Is spanking your solution to everything?” You huffed, trying to scoot back in case Steve was considering really getting his hands on your butt; but he held you in place. 

“Interchangeably with thoroughly fucked,” he teased his fingertips beneath the hemline of the t-shirt you were wearing. 

“And well fed,” he added with a grin and pulled away. 

“Alpha’s meaning of life.” At your snort and eyeroll, Steve chuckled. 

“And what’s yours?” He asked, moving back to the stove.

You watched him taste the sauce once more, then take out bowls from a cabinet. A brief thought that domestic contentment with a pushy Alpha may be the meaning of life passed your mind, but you couldn’t force it out of your mouth. 

“Growing?” You shrugged, appreciatively eyeing the huge portions that Steve plated for both of you. “Myself. And growing plants. Maybe some tiny people in the future.”

That slipped your lips, without you realizing you’ve said it. Only a second later you tensed as it downed on you. Terrified that you blurted it out, while you still didn’t exactly come to terms with the true mating, you tucked your chin down and peered at Steve from beneath your eyelashes.

He didn’t even stop in his motions, accepting the answer without much fuss. 

A part of you expected an overly eager reaction of a stereotypical alpha male wanting to breed his partner right away and strip them of any rights, beside the one to have his kids. The other part feared he’d be scared of the prospect and backpedal. 

“Sounds good.” Steve smiled softly, reaching out his hand to squeeze your calf reassuringly. 

He didn’t dwell on it, giving you a subtle hint that he’s on board with your needs, but not pushing to explore such a serious topic right at this moment. 

Then he handed you a bowl of delicious smelling pasta and leaned against the counter right next to you, with his own bowl. You weren’t sure why you’re eating like this - you sitting on the counter and Steve leaning his hip against it - while there’s a dining table nearby, with quite comfortably looking chairs. But there was something simply domestic about it. No forced formality that may stir awkwardness, but continued closeness.

As you ate, your eyes kept shifting toward the window and the tall wood construction outside. You couldn’t help it, but start picturing how it will look with windows installed and filled with greenery. You’ve had a large collection of plants, but the space called out for more.

Steve’s sigh drew your attention back. You looked at him confused, a single noodle of pasta hanging from your puckered lips until you slurped it in. 

“Come,” he set his bowl aside and took away yours. 

“You’re gonna break your neck trying to stare at the unfinished sunroom and fantasizing about running wild with it. We can sit in the backyard, you’ll get a better view.”

He slid an arm under your thighs and then hoisted you up and over his shoulder. He laughed at your squeak of surprise and palmed your ass. Then carried you out into the backyard, where a small terrace was set beneath a partly overgrown pergola. 

Steve dumped you into a garden chair that gave you a direct view on the construction. You didn’t even glare at him, your happiness at seeing the whole magnificence of your future sunroom prevailing. 

When Steve brought your food, you ate almost mechanically, stuffing your cheeks full and staring at the bare wood as if willing it to become a finished product. 

Steve angled his chair, so he could drape your legs over his lap without ruining your cute sightseeing activity. 

A while later you put the empty bowls left on the table and sat in comfortable silence - your Alpha with his eyes closed, face tilted up into streaks of sunlight filtering through the grapevine, slowly caressing your calves; and you imagining yourself surrounded by plants in a heat filled room. 

It felt as if your body fell deeper into light-as-a-cloud bliss as you imagined shades of green in various sizes. Touching the leaves, dipping your fingers into the soil, it would soothe any strains of the day. 

Steve’s presence would, too.

A small smile curved your lips when you glanced his way and considered his reaction, if you asked him to carry water cans for you, or to sprinkle tops of tall plants which you couldn’t reach. 

You imagined he’d roll his eyes, say something teasing, but do it anyway. Somehow you had no doubt Steve would join you, if you asked him. While you often purposely kept your previous partners away from your plants, knowing they wouldn’t really want to do it with you. 

Being with Steve, thinking of building a relationship with him, filled you with surprising contentment. You had no doubt that it came from you, not only an echo of Steve’s emotions through the bond. 

Seeing how seriously he treated your supposed mating, without making it only about possessing you, but actually growing together; it slowly washed away your previous need to fight it with all your might. 

And when you stopped pushing against your own feelings regarding Steve, flutters of happiness bloomed. Hints of easy playfulness shyly peeked out, as well, sensing safety even if you’d push your Alpha too hard.

Biting your lower lip, you slowly moved your legs off of Steve’s lap. Which stirred him momentarily; his eyes opening and glancing your way. 

Before he had a chance to protest, you were climbing into his lap. Steve’s hands cupped your ass as you settled against him, his eyebrow arched in question when you touched his chest boldly out on your own volition.

“Thank you for the sunroom,” you traced his pectorals with your fingertips, allowing yourself amazement with his physique.

“And for all the suffering I will cause you when I make you help me with the plants,” your cheeky grin made Steve snort. 

But you saw it in his eyes - felt it through the bond, too - that he was proud and elated. 

Of the fact he made you happy, as well because you reached out for him on your own, following the pull you no longer resisted. 

And truly, it was hard resisting Steve. 

Especially when he was splayed beneath you, hard muscles and power thrumming beneath his skin. 

A jolt of hunger shot down your spine, similar in its intensity to the first signs of heat. But you were out of this madness, perhaps only faint remnants lingering and adding to your reaction. 

Most of it, however, was simply your natural response to the proximity of your Alpha. 

Your hand traveled down Steve’s abdomen, with your eyes you traced the path, aiming for the straining bulge growing in Steve’s sweatpants. 

Saliva pooled in your mouth when your fingertips dipped beneath the waistband of Steve’s sweats. His grip on your ass hardened, squeezing your still slightly burning flesh.

“You’re sore, sweetheart,” Steve reminded you, both melting and annoying you with his care for your wellbeing while you were getting hornier by the second. 

“I don’t care,” your huff of breath bordered on a whine.

It turned into a yelp when Steve slapped your ass. The smack also caused your hips to rock desperately against him, evoking his own hiss. 

“I care,” Steve growled, but he didn’t stop your hand from slipping further into his pants. 

“But I want you,” you looked at him, eyes pleading. 

As your fingers grasped Steve’s hardening cock, fingertips not even meeting around his girth, the memory of how he stretched you made you moan. Heat unfurled in your core, leaving a growing wet stain on Steve’s sweatpants where you rubbed yourself on his thigh. 

“Oh God, I need it, Steve,” it had to be the echo of the heat still pulsing faintly in you, because you didn’t think you ever sounded so desperate outside of it. 

No state of arousal made you crave a dick so bad. Never before Steve. 

“Please,” you slanted your lips against Steve’s mouth, whimpering between messy kisses you tried to rouse him with. “Please, I want your cock. At least in my mouth? Please? Please, fill my mouth and belly, Alpha.”

Another slap stung your ass, but your gasp was muffled by Steve’s demanding lips against your own. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, then licked it lewdly. 

With heart-stopping (and hotly arousing) ease, Steve swiftly stood up and planted you on the table. The world spun as he maneuvered your body, so that you laid on your back with your head on the side where Steve stood. 

You tilted your head, gaze landing on the hardness bulging right above your eye level. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you stretched your arms above your head and gripped Steve’s hips. He let you tug his sweatpants down, while he yanked your t-shirt up, exposing your body to his hungry gaze. 

“Needy brat,” Steve growled when you dug your nails into his skin, urging him to come closer so you could taste his cock. 

He swatted your pussy, making you arch and close your thighs around his hand. 

“Open.” Steve’s demand was calm, but there was that firmness to it that annoyed you, yet turned your brain into mush. 

Despite knowing damn well he meant opening your legs, you parted your lips instead. Opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. 

And clenching your thighs tighter. 

Steve didn’t even huff. He yanked your legs apart with ease. Then landed a stinging slap to your inner thigh. Another one on your sensitive pussy, as well. 

But he stepped forward, letting you run your tongue on the underside of his cock. Using his other hand, he guided the reddened tip into your mouth. 

Heavy drag of it against your tongue, stretching your lips the more he pushed inside, made you shudder. Your nipples stiffened into hard peaks and more slick trickled. 

You began understanding why Steve turned so aggressively hungry when he ate you out, if tasting you was anything similar to how his cock tasted for you. 

Steve’s fingers rubbing circles on your clit didn’t help, rushing you swiftly into the first orgasm. 

You moaned around his length, the sound’s vibration causing Steve’s dick to twitch. 

Drops of potent precum slipped down your throat, igniting a burning need in your core. 

Your grip on Steve’s hips tightened, fingers digging into his buttocks as you angled your head backwards to try swallowing more of him. 

Rationally you knew Steve’s cock is too big to take him whole, but your brain switched to a more primal mode that craved to choke on it. 

You vividly remembered how you sucked him in the botanical garden, how you couldn’t swallow everything and pitifully teared up as it became too much. Still, you wanted to do it. To please your Alpha, but also because of your own frenzied need. 

Rocking his hips steadily, Steve controlled the depth of his thrusts. His satisfied purr at your eagerness only spurred you on. 

Hollowing your cheeks, you tried to suck and slurp and moan as much as you could, to entice him to take it deeper. As scary the realization was, but you wanted your Alpha to push you further. 

For a while Steve seemed to be indifferent to your attempts at breaking his self-restraint, until you arched your back with a muffled whine, sticking your chest upwards, and tipped your head at an angle that caused his dick to poke the back of your throat.

Steve stilled for a moment. 

He looked down at his cock stretching your lips wide, drool starting to seep out and mess up your pretty face. His gaze slid over your exposed body: round breasts heaving in offering, nipples begging to be pinched; belly that was already full of his cum from previous days; legs bent at the knees and spread apart; and his hand atop your wet cunt. 

Curling fingers of his left hand around your neck, he bent his knees slightly then inched his cock deeper into your throat. 

You tensed, your eyes watering with tears as you fought the gag reflex. 

Then Steve’s right hand moved; thick digits slipping between your folds and into your opening. He pushed in two at once and your throat constricted on a cry, causing you to really choke on Steve’s dick. 

“That’s it,” Steve rasped, withdrawing both his fingers and his cock. 

“That’s what you wanted, huh?” He pushed back in, delighting in your garbled moan as you swallowed him. “Good Omega, wanting to take her Alpha’s cock deep into her tight throat, even though you know you couldn’t do it before.” 

“Wanted me to own it, too?” Steve kept a steady pace. “Just like you needed me to own your sweet pussy in a proper way, locking you on my knot, so your body recognized it can’t escape me.” 

You would glare at Steve at the whole owning insinuation, if he wasn’t partly right. 

Your body thrummed because he took it so well, so thoroughly. Because he owned it.

Perhaps it was also why you loved having him in your throat, despite gagging on it and tearing up - because he now owned it, but also because it meant you owned his cock, too. 

You could take him, all of him. So all of him belonged to you. 

“Such a good girl for me, sweet brat” Steve praised, withdrawing enough that you could take a ragged breath. 

Then he was thrusting in again. He drove his cock so deep his sack rested heavy against your nose. The lewd aspect of it shook you, more slick gushing out. Good that it did, because just as Steve choked you on his dick, he forced three of his fingers into your pussy; curling them to hit right against that spot that made you see stars.

And he stayed like that.

Keeping his cock in your throat, almost constricting all of your airways, while he rapidly pumped his fingers into you.

Ending supply of air and the onslaught on your clenching pussy overwhelmed you. You kicked your legs, heels tapping against the edge of the table. Your hands helplessly smacked against Steve’s hips, though you weren’t sure if it was to push him away, or to urge him more as you felt a maddening climax approaching.

“Shh, you can take it, sweetheart,” Steve cooed, “Come on, I want you to cum. Cum for your Alpha.” 

It wasn’t a command, yet that and a gentle swipe of his thumb over your clit were enough to tip you over the edge.

Your whole body seized as you leaked around Steve’s fingers. A long scream burned in your lungs, coming out only as a gurgled vibration around the big cock locked in your throat.

Coming back from that high seemed to take longer than ever before. Steve was adamant on drawing out every second of it, keeping you shaking and choking. Your vision was darkening around the edges when Steve finally eased back. 

He slipped out of your mouth too, leaving you coughing and gasping for breath. 

Licking his fingers clean, Steve gripped his throbbing cock with his other hand.

“You still want to swallow it, Omega?” His voice was husky and low as he gazed down at you. 

At your eager nod, he rolled you onto your belly. Your legs hung down over the edge of the table, wetness trickling down your thighs. 

“It’ll be easier for you to swallow in this position,” Steve explained, tilting your chin up with his forefinger. 

He tapped his cock against your wet cheek, gathering a mix of your tears and drool, then guided it between your parted lips. Keeping his fingers wrapped tightly around the base, Steve fed you enough of his dick that you didn’t choke this time. 

Placing his free hand on the back of your head, he fucked your mouth. 

As you looked up at him, your eyes locked with his dark, hungry gaze. It sent a jolt to the very tips of your fingers. 

You wrapped your fingers around Steve’s where he was gripping his cock, cupping his balls with your other hand. Steve’s loud groan of pleasure made you preen. 

As did the soft moans and purrs he made when you hollowed your cheeks and drank every last drop of his thick, warm cum. 

Steve’s fingers caressed your head and cheeks as his cock rested on our tongue, twitching out last spurts. 

In this blissful moment, when you were lax and satisfied and you felt your Alpha so pleased with you, you thought for a second that you understood fictional Omega heroines who seemed to live to please their Alphas.

It brought a sense of fulfillment. 

Or maybe it was everything that Steve did for you, all the care and thoughtfulness and protection, that made it worthy to service him with your compliant body.