#i forgot how to write smut

[undressrehearsal]

dare to be stupid

summary: a drunken game of truth or dare overtakes your study session

tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (r receiving)

a/n: listen idk how this turned into 7.5k. idk what happened. also this is my first time writing smut. idk if the sex is good but it was already so long. if y'all like this one i'll write a sequel or something idk

part 2

“Truth or dare?” 

It had become a tradition for the two of you shortly after moving in together. It was common for the air in your tiny apartment to grow heavy, the stress and anxiety tangible in the air - often around midterms or finals, or if your roommate had a particularly infuriating project. During these times when the bags under your eyes grew too heavy to carry or the lines around your roommate's mouth deepened into canyons, one of you would barge into the other's bedroom - frequently in disarray with notes and textbooks strewn across every surface - slam a bottle of vodka down on the desk, and utter those stupid, little three words, and the game would begin.

And so you didn't even jump when you heard your bedroom door slam against the wall, heavy boots against the carpet. You had been bent over your desk for so long that your neck ached, your eyes swimming with letters that didn't quite make sense and didn't fit into any of the medical terms laid out on your flashcards. When Ellie slammed the bottle of vodka on your desk, you blinked your eyes clear and looked up to meet her eyes. 

She smirked when she said, “Truth or dare?” 

You didn't waste time in clearing off your desk, shoving your books and cards aside into a toppling pile. Ellie, without waiting for permission, set a shot glass down in front of you, kicked off her boots, and plopped back onto your bed. 

Scooting your chair closer, you propped your feet up against the mattress, pursed your lips, and said, “Truth.” 

Ellie groaned, flopping over onto her side and propping her chin in her hand. She had stripped off her jacket, leaving her in a dark t-shirt that almost made her skin look pale in the low light from your desk lamp. “You're such a fucking pussy.” 

You rolled your eyes even as a grin pulled at your lips. “I've known you for too long, Els, and I know that I need a few shots before I'm willing to shove anything anywhere for your amusement. So, respectfully, eat my ass.” 

“You'll have to dare me to,” she quipped back immediately. She wrinkled her nose as you choked back a laugh, tapping a finger against her lips. You tried to ignore how endlessly cute it was as she said, “Where's the weirdest place you've pissed?” 

Another sound burst from your lips, some mixture of a laugh and a shout. You gaped at her, watching as a laugh crept up, a smile tugging at her lips. 

Shaking your head, you said, “Weird, but that's a pretty tame one. Not gonna ask me about my favorite sex position or if I ever snuck drugs into our dorm room last year?” 

Ellie only shrugged. “Gotta warm you up a bit first, babe.” You ignored the way your heart jumped at such an innocent word. After a moment's pause, she added, “But have you?” 

“You'll just have to ask me. One truth per round, bitch.” You pretended to think about it for a moment, though you already had your answer. “Okay, so you remember when we first signed the lease here and we were a bit short on rent?” 

Ellie nodded, her brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Like, a week before it was due, some girl on Tinder hit me up. She was passing through town and only staying for the night, and she was bored. So, she paid me.” 

Ellie's frown deepened. “To, what, have sex with her?” 

Laughter bubbled up your chest as you said, “No, she paid me to piss in her mouth.” 

There was silence for several long moments. Ellie’s jaw hung loose, her eyes wide as she simply stared at you. Several emotions flashed across her face like a movie reel - confusion, shock, disbelief - before finally landing on pure, unfiltered amusement. The corners of her lips quirked up, her open mouth turning up at the corners until a loud, sharp laugh burst from her throat. When Ellie laughed - really, truly laughed - she did it with her chest, a sound so fathomless and full it filled up whatever room she was in. 

In your small bedroom, her laughter bounced off the walls, echoing in the alley outside of your open window. You couldn’t contain your own giggles, muffling your laughter with a hand over your mouth, snorting as Ellie buried her face in your mattress. 

When she finally looked up, her eyes filled with tears, she only said, around her subdued giggles, “How much?” 

You grinned. “$200.” 

Ellie’s mouth fell open again - you’d have to pick it up from the floor at this rate. “Dude, you’re fucking with me.” 

“I swear,” you said, holding up your hand like a scout. “I’ll show you the Venmo if you don’t believe me.”

Ellie fell back against the bed, throwing her head back. “You have to go find this chick on Missed Connections, she can help with the rent.” 

You threw one of your pens at her. Catching it in midair, she stuck the end in her mouth to chew on it. You wrinkled your nose at her, but she only grinned, the pen hanging from the corner of her lips. 

“You're so gross,” you said, though you were still giggling. 

“Bold words from you, Piss Girl. That's, like, the worst superhero name in existence.” 

You threw your hands up, trying your hardest to glare at her and failing miserably. “Hey, $200 is $200. I'm not one to kinkshame.” Ellie threw the pen back at you. You grimaced when it hit your arm, leaving a small spot of spit on your sleeve before clattering to the floor. “God, it's your turn. Truth or dare, bitch?”

Propping herself up on her elbows, Ellie said, “Dare.” A grin pulled at her lips, her voice low as she added, “Because I'm not a fucking pussy.” You stuck your tongue out at her, ignoring her when she mockingly said, “Mature.” 

Your desk was pressed up next to the only window in the room, cracked open to let the cool autumn air in. Your curtains fluttered in the breeze, the dying sunlight creeping in, casting light like liquid gold over Ellie’s skin. As you thought, scrambling to think of a suitable dare, you could not control how your eyes grazed over her exposed skin, the sunlight dipping in her collarbones like pools of ichor. 

Blinking, you met her eyes once more, your throat tight. Your words came out almost choked when you said, “Okay, I dare you to make a spicy two-sentence story about something in this room.”

Ellie scoffed, sitting up and kicking her legs over the side of your bed. “I’m gonna take a wild guess that your drawer of sex toys is off limits?” 

You sputtered, stammering over your own tongue as you felt heat rush to your ears. “Yes, that’s off limits. You don’t even know what’s in there!” 

Ellie hummed, standing up from the bed and taking a few steps around the room. She didn’t look at you, but you could hear that fucking smirk when she said, “That’s what you think, babe.” 

You watched her, tracking her movements as she slowly stepped around your room, scanning for inspiration. Your bedroom was about what you’d expect from a broke, overworked college student - aside from the furniture that came with the place, it was pretty barren. Ellie scanned the little touches you did have - her finger traced over the Funko Pop of Zuko on your bedside table, her eyes lingering on the pile of fantasy books you kept atop your dresser. She smiled at the posters hung crookedly on your walls, depictions of your favorite video games. She hummed again, looking back at you over her shoulder. 

“So many options to choose from,” she murmured, running her finger along your jewelry box. She had her face turned away, so you could only see the corner of her smirk as she lifted the lid, pulling one of your necklaces from its home. You watched her warily as she approached you, the chain dangling from her slim fingers. She stepped behind you, out of your line of sight, and slipped the necklace over your head, the cold metal resting against your collarbone. 

“She looped the chain around her lover’s neck like a collar,” Ellie said. You felt her cool fingers against the back of your neck, hooking around the chain and pulling it gently against your throat. You coughed against the awkward silence; your roommate had always been a little handsy, but this was something else entirely. What the fuck is she doing? you thought. “She pulled it taut against her throat and leaned in to whisper,” you felt Ellie’s lips against your ear, her rough voice sending a chill up your spine when she murmured, “good girl.”

Reaching back, you shoved Ellie’s head away; her laughter echoed through the room as she rounded in front of you, sitting back against your bed and grinning. 

“Oh, you’re so fucking proud of yourself aren’t you?” you teased, trying - and failing - to keep your cheeks from turning red. Your skin felt aflame, a tingle lingering right where Ellie’s lips had pressed to your ear. You rubbed at the spot under the pretense of scratching your head, willing the feeling to go away. 

Your heart was pounding so hard you could hardly hear her when she said, “Hell yeah, I am. I should’ve been an English major. I could write a whole fucking slutty novel and get famous. I'm an expert - I've done enough research.” 

You rolled your eyes at her cocky smile, but Ellie only winked at you. 

This is how your truth or dare games went - with Ellie being far too cocky, prancing around doing whatever dares you could think of and asking any outrageous questions that popped into her pretty little head; and you, simply trying your damnedest to keep up with her. You flailed, flustered, when she asked you about your toy collection, and begrudgingly relented when she dared you to bring out your favorite. Ellie took a shot before you had even finished daring her to text her last hookup (“I’m not reopening that bag of crazy,” she said, scrunching her nose at the taste.) You took a shot when she dared you to go mix all of the liquids in the fridge (which included pickle juice, old broths, and orange juice) into one amalgamation and chug it (“I’d rather chug the rest of the vodka, Els.”) 

“Truth,” you said before Ellie could even ask the question. You were three shots in and could feel that lightness pressing against your temples, just at the threshold of tipsy. You had moved to join Ellie on your bed, where you sat with your back against the headboard and Ellie’s head on your thigh. The vodka bottle was balanced precariously between you. 

Ellie rolled her eyes, but looked up at you and asked, “Out of our friend group, who have you fantasized about the most?” 

She had not even finished her sentence before you served yourself a shot, a few drops splattering on your shirt. Wincing at the taste, you looked back down at Ellie; her eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree, her jaw slack.

“Don’t-” 

“You have to,” she interrupted you, pinching your thigh and grinning when you squirmed away. “You have to tell me. You can’t leave me hanging here - you didn’t even let me finish the question!” 

“Why did you even assume I’ve fantasized about any of our friends-” 

“Because I know you.” She was scrambling up now, unsteady in her movements as she came to her knees in front of you, leaning back against her heels. She planted a firm hand on your thigh - your skin was still warm where her head had been - leaning into it, her eyes drawing so close you could almost see every speck within the hazel. “And I know that bitches like us always have somebody in the group they fantasize about. So, who is it?” 

“Bitches like us?” you repeated, raising your brow. You were sure each line of her palm was going to be branded into your thigh. “So, there’s somebody you think about too?” 

Ellie’s smile was on the very edge of teasing, a small quirk at the corner of her lips that screamed at you just how wrapped around her finger you were - and, somehow, she didn’t even know it. Her voice was low, nothing more than a murmur that you could practically feel in your own chest when she said, “You really wanna know?” You didn’t answer - couldn’t, really, not when her fingers dug into your thigh and you could count each freckle across her nose. You couldn’t answer when she leaned in closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheeks, smelling of the weed you knew she had smoked that afternoon. You could hardly hear her over the rush of your own heart when she whispered, “You’ll just have to ask me.” 

Maybe it was the vodka warming your chest, tingling in your fingers - or maybe it was the way the light from your lamp cast sharp shadows across Ellie’s face, turning her skin into liquid gold - but you did not push her away. Your grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, but you held her gaze when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?” 

Her voice was soft, her half-lidded eyes holding yours as she said, “Truth.” 

“Who have you fantasized about?” The words rushed out of you before you could hesitate.

And for a moment, you believed she would answer. You let yourself believe that she would give you the answer you craved. It prickled at your skin, raising goosebumps along your arm, spreading warmth through your stomach. But your roommate had never been so straight-foward - had never given you an easy answer. She wet her lips, drawing your eyes to her mouth involuntarily, but she only pried the vodka bottle from your fingers. She held your gaze as she raised it to her lips, drinking straight from the bottle without even wincing. 

“I can play that game too, baby.” She backed away, finally giving you a moment to breathe. She settled back against the wall, laying her arms over her knees, the bottle dangling from her fingers. The skin of your thigh still burned, branded with her fingerprints. 

You looked away, huffing out a laugh that you prayed sounded sincere. You could feel her eyes on you when you leaned your head back against the wall, counting the cracks in your ceiling like they were the most interesting thing in the whole world. “It’s getting late, Els,” you said, even as your phone flashed that it wasn’t even nine yet and here you were, too many shots in, your roommate’s presence like a fire blazing in your room. “I should get back to studying.” 

“Do you want to, though?” There was an edge to Ellie’s voice, as though that question was a dare itself. You lifted your head to look at her and found that she was already watching you, her eyes soft in the dim light. 

You took a deep breath - and the vodka must have reached your brain, because before she could ask, you said, “Dare.”

You could see the vodka in the lazy tilt of her smile, in the way her head lolled against the wall. Her eyes were half-lidded, and yet there was something hidden behind her slow, sleepy gaze, something you were too afraid to name - something you were sure was only the imagination of your tipsy fantasies. 

“Close your eyes,” Ellie said, words lazily falling from her lips, as deep and rich as the strings of a guitar. 

It took you several moments longer than usual to process what she had said. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion, as if the two of you were underwater. You shouldn't have felt like this after a few shots - you'd usually only be tipsy at this point. But something about the way the shadows dipped into Ellie's collarbones and the way her shirt rode up, exposing her boxers and the sharp cut of her hips, was intoxicating on its own. 

So it took you several long, heavy moments to say, “What?” 

She chuckled, but there was no malice behind it. There was something soft in the tilt of her head, the way she tilted her chin down to look at you through her lashes. Her hair fell in her face, brushing against her nose; you fought the urge to brush it away, knowing that if you did you wouldn't be able to stop yourself from running your fingers through her hair. You wouldn't be able to stop yourself from grabbing a fistful of the auburn strands- 

“Close your eyes,” she repeated in that same honey-thick voice, breaking you from your thoughts. “For thirty seconds. And don't open them no matter what.” When you only stared at her for several silent moments, she added, “How long have we been friends? Don't you trust me?” 

And the thing was, you did. You trusted her with your entire heart, and so you closed your eyes, and you waited. 

You felt the bed shift next to you but you did not open your eyes. You did not open them when you felt her long fingers grip your shoulder as she struggled to steady herself. You felt her hair first, fine strands brushing against your cheek, smelling of sweat and her shampoo. You did not open your eyes, even when you felt the gentle press of a warm mouth against the side of your neck. You hardly dared to even breathe, your hands tangling in your sheets, afraid that you would not be able to control yourself otherwise. You counted the long, torturous seconds, biting down on your lip when you felt Ellie’s mouth part, the warmth of her tongue pressing against your pulse. 

You had counted to twenty-six when she pulled away, a chill settling over your skin where that warmth had been only seconds ago. When you got to thirty, you opened your eyes to find that Ellie had settled back into her spot, leaning back against the wall. The only sign that she had even moved was the thin sheen over her lips, wet with her own saliva, and a small, pleased smirk. 

You did not allow yourself to think about it, ignoring the way your skin burned where she had touched you as though she were a wildfire. You sounded breathless even to your own ears when you said, in barely more than a whisper, “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.”

“What are we doing here, Ellie?” The words were out before you could stop them, slipping from between your teeth and hanging in the air like helium. The words felt almost tangible, and yet you couldn't grasp them, couldn't draw them back into your throat. 

For a moment, you thought Ellie would grace you with an answer. She opened her mouth, and you thought maybe she would finally stop playing this game and let you breathe. Instead, just like before, she brought the bottle to her lips and held your gaze. You tried not to watch the way her throat moved as she swallowed. 

She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and recapped the bottle, settling it between you. “Truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” You felt you could no longer trust yourself with any dare she gave you. Your hands were already shaking from clenching the sheets.

“How would you rate your last kiss?” 

You squinted at her, confused by the innocence of the question after everything that had happened in the past hour (had it only been an hour?). “My last kiss was with that one girl I met at the bar a few weeks ago. She was drunk and way too sloppy, but she was hot. I guess I'd give it,” you paused, trying to remember the moment past the haze; you couldn't even remember the girl's name, “a six.” 

Ellie raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening. “A six?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in disapproval. “You’ve got to be fucking with me. A girl like you deserves more than a six.” 

“A girl like me?” Your voice sounded deafening in the quiet. You thought it had started to rain; you could hear the pitter patter on your window, could see the way it broke up the streetlamps outside like a mosaic. 

Ellie was nodding almost absently, watching the rain. Her lips parted, and you didn’t expect her to hesitate before she said, “Yeah. A girl like you… deserves to be kissed like it’s the last gasp of air to someone drowning.” You watched her mouth as she spoke, even as your mind screamed at you to look away. You scolded yourself, screaming to end this now, but your body refused; it ached to draw her near, a tangible pain in your chest. “A girl like you should get one of those movie kisses - you know, like when the hero saves the day and shit and he kisses his girl and it’s like the world didn’t matter as long as he saved her. The kind that has the whole fucking theater holding their breath. A girl like you…. Fuck….” She trailed off her rambling. Ellie ran a rough hand through her hair, making the strands stick up at odd angles, and finally looked at you. There was a fire in her eyes, blazing in the dim light. “You deserve to be kissed like they’ll die if they can’t have you.” 

Something had stopped in your chest - maybe it was your breath, maybe it was your heart. Your blood rushed in your ears, and you feared the thrum of your heartbeat was so loud it filled your entire bedroom. Your traitorous heart pressed at your bedroom walls, filling up the space and leaving room for little else. 

Your voice was only a whisper, and you wanted to kick yourself when you said, “We should really go to bed. I have an exam tomorrow.” 

Your roommate pressed her lips together, and she did not break eye contact as she said, “Dare.” 

You shook your head, looking away from her to try, desperately, to break whatever spell had taken hold of you; but your eyes were drawn back to her as if she were the only fucking light in the dark. You had to get a hold of yourself before you did something you’d regret, but you felt intoxicated with something far stronger than the cheap vodka you had bought from Walmart. 

“You’re drunk, Els,” you said, and you sounded so breathless you may as well have given up then and there. 

Ellie leaned closer, holding your gaze, and you could see the exact shade of desire in her eyes. She was so fucking warm - your head spun from it, heat radiating from her skin when she planted a hand on the bed right next to your hip. Her wrist brushed against the bare skin under your shorts, and you felt her voice vibrating in your chest when she said, “Dare.” 

And it was like she had finally pulled the last fucking thread that made you unravel, because you couldn’t stop yourself - didn’t even think to - before you said, “Kiss me.” 

You only had a second to register the smile pulling at the edges of Ellie’s lips before she grabbed your face and pulled you in to smother it. You had never imagined what kissing Ellie would be like - had never allowed your imagination to wander so far over the edge - but she did not kiss like she was drowning. She kissed with the same slow gentleness as when she played the guitar, her long fingers plucking at the strings with the careful deliberation of a lover. 

And she felt so fucking warm. You were high with it; high with the heat radiating from her fingers pressed to your cheeks; high from the way her breath snaked past your parted lips, gentle huffs of warmth against your skin. Your head swam as you pressed into her, your hands tangling into the fabric of her shirt, fingers unsure even as you ached to pull her closer. 

Ellie pulled back for a moment - for only a moment, but each second her lips weren't on yours caused an ache in your chest. Her eyes hovered inches from yours, so fucking green it was dizzying - though you couldn't see much of the color passed the eclipse of her pupils. Her cheeks were flushed - from the vodka, from something else entirely - her freckles popping against the color. You could only imagine how you looked, could feel the desire written across every inch of your face. 

Your fists tightened in her shirt, and you used the leverage to pull her back into you; and suddenly, it felt like you were the one drowning. You couldn’t breathe as Ellie devoured you, the gentleness replaced with a hunger you hadn’t known lived inside her. She pressed her tongue against the seam of your mouth until you relented, opening up to her, a soft sound escaping your throat when her tongue ran along the roof of your mouth. 

That sound - nothing more than a breathy sigh - ignited something in Ellie. Suddenly, she was all teeth and tongue and hot, hot breath in your mouth, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth. She bit down when a shaky sigh forced its way from your throat, soothing it with her tongue and swallowing the moan it elicited. Her hands were in your hair, the strands twisted between her fingers, and when you bit down on her lip, she pulled - you gasped at the sharp pain on your scalp. 

“Fuck,” she cursed against your lips, and you could feel that single syllable, hot breath in your mouth that you wanted to swallow. She didn’t continue for a long time, couldn’t form any other words past the way her lips made you unravel. Her hands trailed down your shoulders, fingers grazing lightly over the bare skin of your arms, before finding your hips, gripping them in a vice and tugging you closer. “Fuck, come here,” she said, her voice nothing more than a low growl that you felt in your chest. 

And you were drunk - from the cheap vodka and sleep deprivation and Ellie. You were drunk on the way her eyes were eclipsed, her lips red and bitten and swollen, parted so you could feel each exhale against your cheeks. Her eyes were dark, hooded. Her fingers dug into your hips, and you were drunk, but shit, how the hell could you say no to her? How could you possibly say no when she was looking at you like she was starving? 

Her hands guided you closer so you swung a leg over her hips and settled in her lap, your hands braced on her shoulders. She leaned her head back against the wall and just looked at you for several long moments, biting down on her lip. You couldn’t stop watching her mouth, mesmerized as she said, “Fuck, look at you.” 

And then she was kissing you again, her hands gripping your hips like it was a lifeline. Your hands found their way to her hair, curling your fingers in the short locks, using it as leverage to pull her closer. You could feel how each point of your body fit into hers; your thighs against her legs, her hands curling perfectly over the swell of your hips. You could feel the swell of her breasts against your chest, and you so badly wanted to feel her skin against yours. You felt like you’d go crazy from the raw want radiating from your body. 

Ellie’s lips traced a map across your cheek, down your jawline. You tilted your head so she could kiss the hinge of your jaw, the spot right below your ear. She paused there, planting hot, open-mouth kisses across your neck, before her teeth bit down on that sensitive spot, pulling the skin into her mouth, and you practically melted into her. You couldn’t control the sounds falling from your lips like honey, gripping at her hair as she soothed the bruise with her tongue. 

“Ellie….” Your voice was nothing more than a whimper; you swallowed hard and tried again, pressing a hand firmly at her shoulder. “Ellie.” 

She only hummed against your skin, and you could feel the vibration against your pulse. The sound went straight to your stomach and dipped even lower when she bit at your collarbone. 

The next time you said her name, it came out as a moan; you cleared your throat. “We can’t do this - you’re drunk, Els.” 

Your roommate hummed again, but she relented, leaning her head back against the wall to look up at you. And - fuck. Her lips were red and swollen, still wet from the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, and - God, her eyes. You had never understood the term bedroom eyes, but Ellie looked at you as though she wanted to devour you. Like any second her hands weren’t on you was torture. Like she wanted to bite and kiss and taste every inch of your skin. 

“Truth or dare,” she said, her voice so hoarse you had to clench your thighs around her hips. 

“What?” 

“Truth or dare,” she repeated, her eyes never leaving yours. And this wasn’t part of the game, but you played along anyway, unable and unwilling to tell her no. 

“Truth,” you sighed. 

One of Ellie’s hands traced up your side. She ran her fingers across your collarbone, up your throat, before stopping to cup your jaw, her skin rough against yours. “Do you want this?” 

You nodded, the vodka making it impossible to feel shy. 

“How long have you wanted this?” Ellie’s thumb pressed at the seam of your lips, and you let your mouth fall open. She watched, hypnotized, dipping just the tip of her thumb between your lips before withdrawing. 

It was against the rules - two questions for one truth - but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “A long fucking time.” Your voice was weak and breathy, and you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about that either. Your attention had narrowed in on Ellie, and the way her fingers skirted across your chest, the way her other hand gripped your hip - how you could feel the warmth of her thighs between your legs. 

Taking your chin in her hand, she drew you closer, and you could feel her lips moving against yours: “So what the hell is stopping us?” 

This time, when she kissed you, you did melt into her. You gripped her hair in your fists and swallowed the moan it drew from her, shivering when her teeth caught on your lip. She had both hands on your hips again, and she gripped them so hard you were sure you’d find bruises there in the morning in the shape of her fingers. She pulled you closer, pulling your hips down into her; the friction through your pajama shorts made you moan against her lips. 

And you decided to play her game. 

“Truth or dare?” you said, drawing away just enough to see the eclipse of her eyes. 

Ellie, always stubborn, murmured, “Dare.” 

You tugged at the hem of her shirt, your fingers brushing the warm skin beneath; you marveled at the shiver that ran through her body. You ducked your head to kiss along her jaw, pressing the words into her skin. “Take this off.” 

She didn’t waste any time tugging the shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor before skidding her fingers over the bare skin above your shorts. You lifted your arms and let her pull your shirt over your head before realizing you weren’t wearing anything beneath. Who wears a bra to study in their own apartment? 

But you didn’t have a moment to cover your body in embarrassment before Ellie’s lips were on you again, as if it pained her to not taste you for even a moment. Her hands spread across your back, pulling you into her as she peppered hot, open-mouthed kisses across your collar; you hissed when her teeth bit down over your collarbone, soothing the pain with her tongue. 

“Tell me to stop and I'll stop,” Ellie said, her voice muffled as she kissed down over your chest; you shivered when her teeth sank into the skin of your boob, sucking another bruise there. She certainly loved leaving her signature on any inch of your skin that her mouth could reach. 

You groaned low in your chest, your fingers tugging at her hair, pulling a gasp from her lips. You almost didn’t recognize your own voice - breathy and thick with desire - when you said, “Please don’t stop.” 

The next thing you knew, Ellie was shoving you off of her lap; your back hit the mattress, your head just barely missing the headboard, but you couldn’t even think about that. Your roommate was crawling over you, and you were hypnotized by the way her muscles tensed, her arms caging you against the bed. Her skin was fucking obscene, smooth plains stretching for miles, cast in liquid gold in the lamplight.

“God, look at you,” she said again, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. Her hand was like worn clay when it traced a teasing line over your hip. Her voice was muffled against your skin, but you caught the end of her sentence: “- so fucking pretty.” 

Your only response was a choked gasp when Ellie pressed the flat of her tongue to your nipple. You gripped her shoulder, feeling her lips close around you as she sucked your skin into her mouth; you winced when she released it, feeling her teeth graze maddeningly over your nipple. 

“Truth or dare?” she said into your skin, her voice vibrating in your bones. 

You groaned, gripping her shoulder when she licked a line over your other nipple. If you had thought about this (which, if anybody asked, you didn’t), you never would have imagined your roommate being such a fucking tease. 

She hummed, and you could feel the vibration in every nerve. For a moment, you couldn’t find your tongue, your voice caught in your chest until she released your skin with a pop of her lips. She looked up at you, batting her eyes, and dammit if your body didn’t arch, searching for her mouth again. 

Propping herself up on her elbows, she watched you through her lashes, an intoxicating smirk across her lips; they were still shining wetly. She broke you from your thoughts when she murmured, “Use your words, angel.” 

Your thighs clenched around her words, automatically and unconsciously. You were sure you could get drunk on the way her voice filled the room, rough and rich as the chords she played. It was through clenched teeth that you said, setting your pride aside, “Dare.” Your cheeks burned when it came out as a moan. 

You could feel her smile against your skin as she kissed down your stomach, silent for several long, torturous moments. You felt her teeth sink into your hip bone briefly, your hips jerking at the sensation. It earned you a chuckle before you felt Ellie’s hands pressing your hips into the mattress, holding you still. You groaned low in your throat when you felt her tongue against the skin over the band of your shorts, licking a stripe right above the fabric before taking the elastic between her teeth and tugging. You jumped when she released it, the band snapping back against your skin. You didn’t have to look at her to see the sparkle in her eye. 

You swore your heart stopped completely when she murmured, “I wanna go down on you.” 

Despite this game she was insistent on playing, it wasn’t said like a dare; it was said like a question, or a request. There was no expectation behind it. Ellie was asking, you realized with dizzying satisfation, for permission. 

“Fuck.” It came out as only a breath, a whisper against your tongue. Your fingers ached from gripping the sheets and she hadn’t even touched you yet. “Fuck,” you tried again, and it was a groan this time but at least it was louder. “Yeah. Yeah, please, fuck.” Words were just falling from your lips because when you looked down, Ellie - your roommate, your friend - was watching you, propped between your legs with that fucking smirk, and how could you possibly string together a complete sentence? 

And Ellie… didn’t. She didn’t follow up on her dare. Not immediately, at least. No, she took her sweet fucking time - always so damn precise, taking her time in hooking her fingers over the band of your shorts. She pulled them down so slowly you could feel every inch down your legs. And then you were lying beneath your roommate in nothing but your underwear - and dammit, if you had known this would be happening, you would have opted for something a little sexier than a cotton pair with constellations on them. 

Ellie smiled. “Cute,” she said, before sinking her teeth into the flesh of your thigh. You were thankful it was cold out - you’d have to wear layers to hide all the places her mouth had been. 

Your roommate ducked her head, and you gasped when you felt her press a featherlight kiss against the fabric of your underwear, right where warmth pooled between your legs. 

You huffed, twisting the sheets between your fingers. “God, you’re such an asshole - fuck-” You were cut off when Ellie licked a stripe up your panties, warm tongue pressing against your throbbing clit. You moaned at the relief, feeling the wetness of her mouth through the fabric. It wasn’t enough - you needed to feel her against you, needed her tongue to unravel you piece by piece. You pressed your hips down against her lips but her hands held you in place. 

You huffed out a breath, her name slipping from your lips when you moaned. “Ellie….” 

And then she was yanking your underwear down your hips; you gasped, lifting your ass to help her shove them down. She had only gotten them just below your knees before she was pressing back in, too impatient to finish the job. 

And - fuck, her mouth. Ellie’s mouth was fucking magic. You moaned into the quiet room when she pressed the flat of her tongue against your pussy, licking a stripe between your lips. You couldn’t control the curses slipping between your teeth when her tongue made teasing circles around your clit until you were whimpering, aching for her. She had released your hips to dig her fingers into your thighs, nails digging in, and you’d surely have crescent-shaped bruises there tomorrow - even more to cover up. You pressed your hips down against her, groaning, her name only a whisper: “Fuck, Els-” 

And then she finally, finally, gave you what you wanted. 

Ellie ate pussy like it was her fucking job, like she was clocking into a shift and working her ass off for those tips. She lapped at your clit like she was starving, pressing her lips against you until you were dizzy, your entire body tuned in to the warmth of her tongue and the gentle graze of her teeth. You shuddered when you felt that tongue press into your core, a brief pressure that pulled curses from your lips, words tripping over each other: “Ah - fuck - fuck, Ellie - oh my God, fuck-” 

It didn’t take long for tension to build in your stomach. You were intoxicated; you were tipsy, yes, but something about the way Ellie moved her tongue - long, slow circles around your clit, using the flat of her tongue to draw you closer to the edge - was like a damn drug. You got what you wanted: She unraveled you with her tongue, tugging curses from your lips. You could hear your own moans echoing against your quiet bedroom and you couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it. 

Ellie took your clit between her lips and sucked, pulling you into her mouth and-

A long, low moan pulled at your throat when you came. Your hand came up to grip at her hair, fingers twisting in the soft strands. She moaned when you pulled, and the vibration against every nerve pushed you further; you could feel your orgasm in your chest, could feel it trembling in your thighs. 

Ellie worked you through it, her tongue dancing against you as you rode out your high. She didn’t stop, pressing her lips against you, dipping her tongue into your core again, until you were shoving against her head, your hips bucking at the sensitivity. 

When she raised her head, she was grinning, that wicked, infuriating grin she always had when she was pleased with herself. She rested her head against your thigh for a moment, watching you as you blinked the stars from your eyes. You relaxed your fingers in her hair, smoothing your thumb across her temple. 

The only thing you could say, breathless and dizzy, was, “Fuck, Els. What the fuck?” 

Ellie laughed, the sound unarming the silence around you, the anxiety of what this meant. She pressed a kiss to your thigh, right over the little indentations where her nails had dug into the flesh, and just said, “Yeah?” 

You giggled, tugging at her hair gently. You looked down at your roommate - and you didn’t know what this meant for the two of you, but that could be a problem for tomorrow, when you weren’t drunk and sleep-deprived and naked beneath your friend. For now, you only said, “Truth or dare?” 

Ellie blinked, raising an eyebrow, and said, “Truth.” 

You considered not asking for a moment, unsure if you wanted to know, but curiosity pressed at you until you asked, “What do I taste like?”

The grin spread wider, Ellie’s eyes sparkling as she pushed herself up. She crawled up your body, taking a moment to press a kiss to your stomach, to the bruises she had left littered across your chest - you moaned when she took a nipple briefly into her mouth. She kissed her way up your neck, across your jaw, sucking at the skin beneath your ear - another fucking bruise to worry about. God, it was like she wanted her signature on you, branded in every inch of your skin. 

Her face hovered an inch above yours, propping herself up on her elbows, smirking. She leaned in close, leaving room for you to turn away if you wanted. Instead, you tilted your chin up and kissed her again. 

You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste of yourself against her lips. You didn’t like it, the way your own scent wafted over you. But fuck if you didn’t open your mouth when you felt Ellie’s tongue pressing at the seam of your lips. She moaned when your tongue ran along the roof of her mouth, pressing into the taste of you. 

When she pulled back, her eyes were soft, her cheeks flushed. “Like that.” 

You rolled your eyes, turning your face away; you had to admit, even if you hated how you tasted - tasting yourself against her tongue sent a wave of heat between your legs all over again. You only said, “Gross.” 

Ellie leaned in again, and you felt her lips ghosting against your jaw. You felt her breath against your skin when she whispered, “Truth or dare?” 

You lifted your chin to give her access to your neck, sighing when she pressed a kiss against your pulse. “Truth.” 

Her breath huffed against you when she chuckled before raising her head to meet your eyes again, that same cocky smile spread across her lips. “Was that better than a six?” 

“Oh, fuck off.” You shoved against her until she rolled off of you. 

She flopped back against the mattress, still laughing, but she was holding her arm out for you. You only hesitated for a moment - but even if she was your roommate, she just made you see stars, so it’s not like cuddling would push against the boundary you had already broken. You curled into her, laying your head on her chest, the sports bra she was still wearing soft against your cheek.

You sighed, skimming your fingertips against the warm skin of her stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. “Definitely better than a six.” 

You were starting to fall asleep, your eyes growing heavy, your study notes effectively forgotten. You burrowed into her further, wrapping your arm around her and pressing your fingers against her hip. You briefly wondered where the vodka bottle had ended up in the mess, but Ellie didn’t seem in any particular hurry to untangle herself from you, so you figured it could wait - surely it would be okay if she slept in your room for one night.

Just before you dozed off, you heard Ellie murmur, “You left the window open.” 

[stellewriites]

Hii! Can you do ghoap x reader fluff? Like cuddles with mild flirting (from soap, obviously) and like soap is the little spoon, because in return he gets head scratches in return, reader in the middle, and Simon as the big spoon just pressing his face into the crook of readers neck?

Would rlly apreciate it <3

-🌑

i loved this idea when i read it and then proceeded to take far too long to actually answer it lmao BUT!! here it is,, ghoap x fem!reader fluff - ty for the request 💓

you picked up the cheap jar of pasta sauce and compared it to the branded version stacked next to it. as far as you could tell, the ingredients were the same and the little veg chunks included weren’t any smaller.

you nodded to yourself. it was decided, you weren’t paying two quid extra just for a name, fuck dolmio.

you looked higher to the top shelf and frowned when you saw the pasta had been pushed away from the edge and you’d be unable to reach it on your own.

“need a hand, dove?”

you turned to see a handsome man with a mohawk beelining towards you, his eyes tracing your frame with hot familiarity. without waiting for your response, he bullied his way into your space to reach over you for the pasta. barely stepping back, he handed you the pack and looked you up and down.

“thanks, stranger,” you said, holding back a laugh at his amused smile. you saw the moment he decided to play along.

“pretty skirt,” he said and nodded down to your bare legs peeking out beneath the denim.

“hm, my boyfriend got me it,” you said, a little teasingly.

“oh? and this boyfriend, he’s left ye all alone to do the shoppin’ has he?”

“no, he’ll be back soon. and he’s kinda protective, won’t be happy seeing me talking to other guys,” you said trying not to smile.

“ah’m no’ scared,” he scoffed, his own smile breaking out as he looked around the aisle eagerly for the aforementioned boyfriend.

“i don’t know, he’s pretty big and strong, wears a scary mask,” you said.

“aye? reminds me o’ my boyfriend,” he said and you finally giggled, leaning in to kiss him and giving up playing pretend.

“dove, they got their tiger bread in stock again,” simon said as he rounded the corner of the aisle and interrupting your kiss. “i ha’n’t ‘ad this in ages.” simon barely paused at the unexpected appearance of johnny, his eyes turning up in the corners as he smiled under his mask. “johnny, look, tiger bread.”

“yeah, i seen, si,” johnny said fondly, crowding you back against the trolley. “only getting the one loaf?”

simon paused. “hm. you’re right.”

you snorted as he dropped the bread into the trolley before heading back to the bakery section and leaving the pair of you alone again.

“work was a fookin’ drag, dove, cannae stand all this paperwork they’re keepin’ me busy with,” johnny groaned into your temple. you petted his arm consolingly before turning back to your list and shopping trolley.

“you were injured less than a month back, john, you can’t have been expecting to be back in the field so soon?” you hummed as you continued shopping with johnny leant over your back.

his silence spoke volumes.

you shook your head as you made your way through the store and waved simon over as you passed him by, hoping he hadn’t harassed the bakery staff into making more tiger loaves last minute for him. the absolute fiend.

“wha’s wrong with him?” simon asked as he got back, hands full as he nodded to johnny’s slumped frame. you refrained from asking simon if you really needed three tiger breads and instead nudged your other boyfriend up from your shoulder.

“he’s bored,” you said easily, grinning when johnny pulled back properly to send you a betrayed look.

“fuck’s sake. c’mere,” simon huffed before dipping down to kiss him, chuffing a laugh as johnny sputtered at the woollen texture of the mask in between them. “you’ll be back in no time. just behave or it’ll be longer.”

“ye sound like cap,” johnny grimaced. he wiped a hand down his tired face. “when are we goin’ home, hm? fuckin’ knackered, could do with a nap before dinner.”

“y’drive ‘ere?” ghost asked while you grabbed a box of eggs, checking for any cracked inside.

“aye.”

“then you can leave whenever,” ghost said flatly, though the glint of his eyes in the overhead lights betrayed his amusement at johnny’s plight.

johnny pouted.

“yer cruel, si. tell him, dove, he’s heartless,” johnny bemoaned dramatically.

“you’re cruel and heartless, simon, would you prefer strawberry jam or raspberry for a change?”

“could be a treat,” ghost conceded.

johnny groaned at the both of you, pinching your hip when you laughed.

“you both know i cannae sleep without someone’s arms around me,” he huffed, turning his big puppy eyes on you both.

you caved immediately.

“aw poor baby,” you cooed, biting your lip when you saw simon roll his eyes. “let’s get this done quick then, yeah? go grab the burgers we like from the frozen section and that ice cream we got a couple weeks back.”

“yes, ma’am.” johnny jogged off.

“si, can i trust you not to make your way back to the bakery if i give you a list of items to grab?”

“no,” he admitted without shame. “i saw the lad in the back prepping more for tomorrow, think i could convince ‘im to cook ‘em now for me if given the time.”

“right. hand holding it is as we find the toiletries then. ‘s like herding cats with you two.”

simon hummed, his eyes trained on the section you knew the bakery to be hidden in.

—

once home, johnny packed away the majority of your shopping in record time, snatching the jam from simon’s hands and almost throwing it onto the work top before plying his mask up one handed and dragging him down into a rough kiss with the other. you watched, amused, with raised eyebrows as johnny dragged him back towards the bedroom desperately, waving a hand at you and gasping out a needy, “dove, c’mon, stop fucking around,” in between wet kisses.

you didn’t need to be told twice before attaching your hands onto simon’s thick waist from behind, guiding them from bumping into any furniture or walls as they stumbled blind to the bedroom.

johnny pulled back with a dopey smile and pushed simon none too gently onto the bed. you took advantage of his lowered height and pulled off his mask completely, rubbing a gentle hand over his buzz cut hair and down to his jaw. you leant in for a soft peck before feeling johnny’s hands and arms wrap around your soft stomach.

he clung to you, nuzzling at your cheek over your shoulder until you turned in his arms to share your attention.

you heard the bed creak as simon settled further up the bed as johnny kissed you. you shuffled back, parting from johnny just long enough to get your bearings and climb onto the bed, simon’s hands moving to guide you back as johnny hummed against your lips.

you flopped back into simon’s arms, got comfortable as he wrapped you up and held you tight against him.

johnny sighed in relief at the sight and shuffled down so he could rest his head on your chest.

you gathered him close and laughed when he started whining when your hands stayed on his shoulders.

“so needy johnny, have you ever heard the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’?” you teased as you started to run your nails through his hair, lightly scratching until he sighed and dropped his body weight against you and simon.

“too t’red,” he mumbled.

simon lifted his warm hand from your hip and draped it heavily over the back of johnny’s neck, keeping him close. soon enough, the scot was snoring.

you tried not to laugh, your chest bouncing johnny with your muffled chuckles. “i think that might be a record.”

“tired lamb,” simon said condescendingly, but he rubbed his thumb lovingly over the soft skin behind johnny’s ear.

“don’t be mean.” you grinned back at him.

simon hummed and rested his head into the crook of your neck, tucking you in closer with the arm still wrapped underneath your waist. “not bein’ mean.”

he nipped at your neck, a soft nibble that had you gasping and clenching your thick thighs around the one johnny had slipped inbetween.

“prick,” you huffed without malice when he stopped and let out a long tired breath in your ear. he hummed with closed eyes, clearly not listening.

you chuffed a laugh into johnny’s hair. the low thrum of arousal simon had brought on was easy enough to ignore but you’d have rather he’d finished what he started. instead, you tucked your cold toes between his large calves behind you in penance and tugged johnny even closer, enough to smother him. with your arse perched perfectly in simon’s lap and johnny nestled close to his second favourite place on your body, you were sure they’d give you what you were after once their nap is over. you closed your eyes with a smile; you could wait for them to get their energy up, and you loved your puppy piles just as much as they did.

[hungharrington]

spread

hey guys long time no see ! this was purely inspired bcos i think its HOT when guys hold their gfs legs open when they fuck. naturally im thinking of steve <3 enjoy! MDNI this entire blog is 18+ fem!reader

Fire burns beneath your skin.

Pure flames of desire that seem to start in your gut, licking and settling alight every nerve in your body. The fire within you hums and you burn up deliciously in it, trying so hard to stay still and feel everything.

Your breath hits the pillow, its soft feel pressed up against your cheek. Steve's chest drags against your bare back. You can feel the muscles of his chest shift, the drag of his chest hair as his bicep bulges over and over from a repeated motion.

The motion being his hand, buried between your thighs.

"Want you to..." Steve's voice breathes in your ear, that rasp in it that clues you in to how turned on he is. How keyed up he is. His forearm nudges at your thigh, pressing it outwards. "Want you to keep 'em spread for me, baby."

You swallow a gasp as his thumb passes over your clit teasingly. You nod against the pillow and your thighs part further without even thinking about it.

"That's it," Steve coos. This close, you can feel the curl of his smile against your neck. He's practically purring when he says, "That's my girl."

You're spreading yourself for him, your drooling cunt on display for him to play with, and the thought only fuels the dribbling, burning hot feeling in your gut. A whimpery noise pulls from your throat.

Steve kisses the skin of your neck generously, slow languid kisses that make your nipples peak against the sheets. A scrape of teeth. Heat burns between the shared skin.

Long, thick fingers draw circles at your entrance and you can't help how your back arches to push down onto them, a stuttering gasp escaping you. He's been teasing you for too damn long tonight.

"S-Steve."

His name has never sounded so filthy.

"Mm? What is it, baby?"

He's still circling your entrance tantalizingly, his thumb dancing over your clit so perfectly, so teasingly. Asshole. Teasing, stupidly hot, too-good-with-his-fingers asshole.

"Please," Is all you can manage, voice weak.

It's all you need for Steve give in, sinking his finger into your cunt and pulling simultaneous groans from both of you. You can feel the rumble of it against your spine. Your head tips back instinctively, your cunt fluttering in bliss.

Steve doesn't give you a moment to relax into it, another finger joining as he pumps them in. Lewd noises leak out as his fingers setting a punishing pace. They curl expertly, hitting the spot that makes your hole clench around him with every thrust of his fingers.

You clutch the sheets, your leg quivering and threatening to fall. A moan you can't contain pools in your chest and you bury your face in the pillow to muffle it.

Your hand shoots down to hold Steve's forearm — half to make sure he won't stop, half to keep yourself from falling apart too soon.

"God, look at you," Steve murmurs, his voice hot with praise.

All your whimpery noises, pressed into the pillow, going straight to his cock. It thickens in his boxers, straining against the fabric and Steve shivers in anticipation.

You can feel his trail of kisses up your neck but you know he’s watching the way your hips rock down onto his fingers. A fiery desire licks up your spine at the hardness you feel behind you. You feel yourself grow slicker at the feel of it, your mouth almost watering.

Steve's hips rolls up against yours roughly, no doubt eager to gain the same pleasure you were getting. His quiet grunts mix with your whiny breathes, pleasure burning and bubbling hotter and hotter.

Then a filthy moan scrapes out his throat when you clench down around his fingers — which disappear between your legs in a moment.

You barely get a moment to pout, a soft whine sounding, before you hear the fabric of his boxers being pushed down. It's frantic sounding, like he can't wait another second, like he needs to be buried inside you. You need it just as bad. You whine again.

"Sh, sh, sh, sh," Steve soothes, all too aware of your every noise. His needy baby. "I know, I got you."

His hand finds the bend in your knee and he holds it for you, keeping you spread for him. His nose nuzzles along your neck, kissing and suckling as he finally, finally, sinks his cock into you in one slow stroke.

You keen. A pitiful cry escapes your lips, the coil in your tummy twisting tighter at the gravelly moan that Steve makes. His hot breath of your neck, his closeness, the stretch of him inside you — you quiver and whimper, your cunt gushing on his cock.

"Oh f-fuck, honey," There's that whiny hitch in Steve's words now, the way there always is when nears pussy drunk.

You can feel the urge to close your shaky legs with how you cunt throbs in pleasure but Steve's hand is still tucked under your knee, keeping them apart, as he starts to rock into you.

The lewd noises from before return, the wet sound of your slick as Steve ruts into you. His hips move fast, his pace building.

A ragged moan drools from your lips and you push your head back instinctively, searching for more Steve. He's there already, his kisses resuming up your neck feverishly, his thrusts not faltering.

"Ste— Stevie," You gasp needily, letting one of your hands slip over your waist to hold him however you can. Your fingers find his bicep and you clutch it, breathy noises punched out with every roll of his hips. Steve groans loudly.

"God, you feel so fuckin' good around me," He pants, thick cock driving into you steadily enough to make you melt. He drops his hold on your leg for a moment, his hand darting up to your face. He pushes back the hair in your face, his lips kissing the exposed skin as he does.

"My pretty fuckin' girl," He hums, voice wavering in his own pleasure.

Your thighs start to ease close without thinking and Steve snakes his hand down, slapping lightly at your clit with his large hand. It makes you squeal, your legs jumping apart and your hole clenching down on his cock deliciously. Steve moans again, a thread of a whine in it.

"Told you," He huffs breathlessly, lips dragging up the sensitive skin of your neck. He nips at your ear. You whimper. "To keep 'em spread for me. You can- you can do that f'me, can't you?"

It's a trick question because there's no way you can answer anything right now. Steve's thrusts slow for a moment, as if he's giving you a moment's reprieve, only for you to realise it's for a more sinister reason all together.

He shifts forward and lets his hand find its place under your knee again, holding your legs apart, and this time when he fucks back in, your whole body twitches.

You make a pitiful noise, something between a moan and a gasp. And then you make it again and again, as Steve drives his cock into your cunt, hitting the spot every single time.

"Oh, there she is." Steve coos. "Is that it, yeah? That spot feel good, honey?"

It would nearly be embarrassing, the little uh, uh, uh's you keep making, if it didn't feel so fucking good. You thought you were on fire before but now you're molten. Your skin blazes. Pleasure twists the coil in your gut tighter. You clench down on Steve's cock and gush at the whimpery noise he makes.

"I- ngh, shit—" He's panting now, beginning to become undone at the silky feel of you wrapped around him. "I asked -ah- you a question, baby."

You wail softly into the pillow, head curling in. Your head swims in delirious pleasure, the question he asked a minute ago long gone. You whine at his cruelty, your mind utterly distracted by the filthy squelchy noises he's fucking out of you.

"B-Baby can't think right now?" Steve teases, his thrusts turning shallow but faster. He hikes your leg up higher, pulled back towards his hairy thigh. "Getting fucked too good, huh?"

"Uh huh," Your voice comes out all whiny, the words drooling out your mouth. Your cheek brushes the pillow as you reply, eyes screwing up as the tightness in your stomach looms closer, hotter, nearly bursting. You grip his bicep tighter.

"Pleasepleaseplease, don't- don't stop, baby, I'm— I'm," The words rush out of you in a frantic babble. "Please, fuck- I'm, uh,"

A moan warbles out of Steve at your pleading, feeling his balls draw up as his own orgasm creeps up on him. He dutifully listens to his baby, still fucking himself into you with a lustful fervor.

"Gonna cum?" He grunts. You whine.

"I wanna see you cum," Steve rasps, his tummy flexing as he tries to hold back his mounting pleasure. "C'mon, baby, cum all over my cock, yeah? Show me how good it is."

His hand slips from your beneath your knee once more, sliding down to pat at your clit and it's all it takes. You unravel. The heat in your bloodstream gives way to pure euphoria, confetti pumping through your body as you gasp and moan. Your cunt clenches and flutters, throbbing in just the right way.

Steve's hips stutter, the sudden snugness of you pushing him over the edge. It's everything to hear the little inhale he does; the whimper he makes as his cock twitches inside you, dribbling hot ropes of cum.

He keeps moving, milking out every dreg of pleasure for the both of you. Your hand on his arm shifts, moving up, searching for his face and when you tangle your hands in his hair, it's to turn and kiss him. It's sloppy, your lips barely aligned. Still, it hums with love.

The kiss breaks. Slowly, the pleasure and his movements taper off, til Steve's easing himself out of you. A warm buzz sits over the room, satisfaction rolling off the both of you in waves. You feel faint, a sluggish happy feeling settling into your skin.

"Mm, you okay?" Steve's voice sounds from behind you.

You're still snuggled close together, Steve dropping his head into the crook of your neck to nuzzle into it. You huff a happy laugh, reaching a hand up to bury it into his hair like you know he loves.

"More than okay." You sigh happily. Steve's responding hum vibrates against your shoulder. "You just fucked my brains out, baby."

Steve makes a little noise, a half-hearted snort. He kisses the curve of your shoulder again. "Just doin' my job."

[dcangel]

one thing about stiles is that he absolutely cannot stay quiet when he cums, even if it’s in the worst situation possible. he could be home alone, or it could be late at night— either way, he’s jerking off to the explicit picture you sent him last week that he still has yet to get over. he can’t muffle any soft grunts or hums even when his mouth is closed. especially not when you’re letting him fuck you. his intentions when resting on top of you were innocent, perfectly content with being your weighted blanket. but something quite literally rubbed him the wrong way, and you felt it moments later. how could you say no to some not-so-innocent cockwarming? after all, Noah was in the dining room mulling over another case of a slashed-up body in the woods. clothes weren’t removed, just adjusted to allow his cock to slip out of his plaid sweatpants and into the small gap you left him between your drawn-down waistband and your cunt. it truly didn’t take long for vibrations of lost hums and whimpers to be felt against your neck as he allowed his hips to work lazily; his cock sliding in and out easily thanks to your building wetness. you really didn’t expect or want more from him, you just wanted him to please himself as you relished in his struggles to stay silent.

it was hard to keep stiles quiet, especially with the way the house fell silent after his dad drank himself to sleep, and there was no absent-minded muttering and mumbling to drown of the echoes of stiles’s growing whines. it was even harder when you felt warmth spill inside you and his hips still twitched as if one orgasm wasn’t enough. he was doing it to himself. grateful praises and broken whimpers tumbled from his lips that languidly tried attaching to your neck, and you didn’t even attempt to quiet him down. it would’ve been a futile effort anyway, especially with the way he absently began spewing mumbled begs against your neck to just let him be loud— to let him have his moment to openly relish in the feeling of you. and who were you to say no to your boy who took it upon himself to overwork his recently neglected body?

[eyeheartboobiez]

bruce wayne x gn!reader

a/n: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG PLSSS😭 i really only planned for this to be a couple of hundred words but it ended up being a couple of thousand lmao but i hope you like it🫶🏿

summary: you’ve been stressing yourself over a case at work, leaving your loving husband home alone. luckily, he knows just the thing to help you wind down.

wc: 2.4K

warnings: smut, barely proof read..

Just when you think you've gotten a step closer, you end up taking two steps back.

For hours now, you've been stuck at work, desperately trying to break what may just be the toughest case of your career. The only light illuminating the room was the lamp positioned at your desk, as the office was completely void of life – aside from you of course.

You were supposed to be back home hours ago, yet the pile of reports stacked in front of you was nowhere near finished. The forensic evidence wasn’t matching up with the alleged suspect, and the words on the paper before you got blurrier by the second.

Rubbing at your eyes, you let out a heavy sigh, coming to the devastating conclusion that you wouldn’t be able to solve this on your own. While integrity was one of the most essential parts of the job, a little help from a certain someone couldn’t hurt, right?

However, before you could pick up the phone and call your beloved Bruce, a knock was heard at the door. Who the hell could be here at this time of night? Despite your immense fatigue, you were sure your body couldn’t have gone to the point of hallucinating.

Well you weren’t imaging things, because lo and behold was all six feet and two inches of your husband standing at the entrance.

“You missed dinner, you know.” he said, arms crossed and leaning against the doorway.

He made his way towards your desk, his strides slow but formulated as always. The way he stalked towards you had the likeliness of a predator shadowing its prey. Somehow, the darkness of the room became even dimmer.

You weren’t scared though. Nervous, maybe, but this was your husband after all.

As much as he likes to parade the streets striking fear into the villains of Gotham, you know he was a sweetheart at the end of the day. However, if he couldn’t stand you staying late at work for one night, then he’d just have suck it up and deal with it.

“I know baby, but really, I have to get this done tonight.” you sighed, refusing to go down without a fight.

Stressed enough as is, you really weren’t in the mood to deal with Bruce’s antics right now. Closing your eyes, you put your head down on the pile of papers in front of you, hoping to subdue your worsening headache.

“Alfred even made your favorite.” A pair of large hands found themselves at your shoulders, “He was disappointed when you weren’t at the table, love.”

His digits kneaded at your traps, skillfully working their way into all the knots of the muscle. “C’mon darling, let’s get you back home and fed, ‘kay?”

You let out a deep groan, the tension in your shoulders had dissolved in an instant. Oh you already knew where this was going. 

You see, Bruce was a master at the art of persuasion, as if he had the secret ability to make anyone and everyone bend at his will. It was a power that even your eldest son Dick had picked up (to both your delight and disdain).

While you’d usually fall victim to his schemes, now was not one of those times. You were determined to wrap this case up, even if you passed out in the process.

Noticing your stubborn behavior, the dark knight leaned down and began nipping at your ear, “Damian was even hoping you’d make it back in time to say goodnight to him, you know.”

It was a compelling argument, you’ll give him that, but still you refused to submit to his tactics. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you started to get irritated. Why was it so hard for him to understand you were busy? 

“Bruce, seriously, cut it out. I gotta stay here and work my way through this evidence.” Lightly shoving him off, you picked up your pen and went back to sorting out the documents before you. Although the break was much appreciated, Bruce was proving to be no help at all.

Hoping he’d actually listened to you this time around, you jokingly made a last remark, “Since Alfred cooked too much tonight, how about you show me how much you love me and go grab me a plate.”

“How about I show you how much I love you right now.”

Before you could even question it, Bruce’s lips found themselves back at your earlobe. Except this time, his small pecks quickly transformed into open mouthed kisses.

His fingers went back to rubbing your shoulders, his workmanship more intense than ever. His fingers stealthily trailed up to your throat, squeezing at the area.

As you felt the pressure increase more and more, you finally became aware of what was happening. This entire time, he had been shadowing you like a wild animal.

And now he was ready to pounce.

“I see how stressed you’ve been recently,” He murmured against your skin, “Do you think I like seeing you exhausted like this, sweetheart?”

Eyes closed, you could do nothing but focus on how he sounds, how he feels. Your chest felt heavy, your mind felt hazy, and you couldn’t seem to get the words out to respond.

“Don’t know how to speak when your husband is talking to you? Guess you must be more tired than I thought.”

“No, Bruce I— ahh!”

Your voice was cut off as his hands began fondling your nipples, the hem of your shirt bunched up at your chest.

“Y’know how much I miss you on nights like this?” he spoke up again, leaving wet, languid kisses along your nape. 

“Waiting on our couch, laying without you in our bed, aching for you. Do you actually like leaving me alone like this?”

Your chest heaved at the thought, has he always been this desperate for you? As he continued to ravish you below the chin, your head moved against his lips, mimicking the harsh circular motions of an ocean wave.

Feeling his hand trail lower and lower, your breaths became more and more shallow. Case work be damned, you’d be an idiot to go back to working at a time like this.

“Bruce, this investigation was really important.” You mewed, “I’m sorry, baby.”

“If that’s the case, I think I deserve a little something in return, hm? Lemme look after you, angel.”

With that, you were pulled out of your chair and immediately brought to your feet. Strong thighs pressed themselves firmly against your bottom, leaving Bruce towering over you. 

His dominating aura was overpowering, and you were left heaving at the thought of all the ways he could take you, all the ways he could claim you.

All at once, he skillfully moved to pull at both your trousers and undergarments, leaving them pooling at your ankles. “Open your legs for me, love. I wanna see you.”

In all your glory there you were, lying chest down against your desk, pants to the floor, with your beloved husband practically rutting into you from behind.

You habitually arched your back, aching to be filled. Bruce sighed in pleasure, stepping back to take a look at his beloved spouse. Just the sight of you like this damn near made him go crazy.

His hands circled our waist, thumbs thoroughly messaging the small of your back, “I jus’ wanna help you out, baby. Would you like that? Hm? For me to fuck the stress out of you?”

“Yes Sir! Anything you want from me.”

As soon as the bedroom name hit his ears, Bruce let out an audible groan. As many cases you’ve solved in your career, you still didn’t have a single clue of the things you do to him.

Emphatically pulling at his belt, Bruce frantically released his throbbing member from his slacks. Violently spitting in his hand, he began stroking his arousal, lining it up with your tight opening.

He teased his cockhead around the swollen area, his pre-cum painting the heat between your legs. It was as though he was playing with you, as if you were some toy solely meant for his leisure.

Finally, after edging you for what felt like forever, he finally plunged inside of you. His sex speared into you with unrelenting vigor. Slowly, his shaft inched its way inside.

“‘M gonna fuck you so good that you wont be able to get up for work tomorrow,” his husky voice was leaving you in a trance, “Would you like that, angel? For this cock to take all your worries away?”

“Mhm, please sir,” your wanton moans were like music to his ears, as if the pearly gates of heaven were calling his name.

At your request, Bruce’s demeanor did a complete 180. His unrushed pace being switched out for something much more barbaric. Wet smacks could be heard throughout the room as his hips jerked into your swollen entrance.

The table shook at the force of his thrusts, leaving your pencil case to fall as a result. Papers were scattered about, some even sticking to the dampness of your skin. Your hands went to grip the edge of your desk, looking for something, anything to keep you stabilized.

“This is what you’ve been missing out on,” Bruce heaved, “This is what you could’ve had all those nights you decided to stay here and work.”

You practically begged him to slow down, the abuse to your hole was getting to be exhausting, “Bruce, mmn— ‘s too much.”

But your pleas fell on deaf ears, as his girth did nothing but continue its relentless assault. Your moans started to match his movements, pitch getting higher with each thrust.

“Shittt,” the hero groaned, “You're doing so good for me, sweetheart. Jus’ be good and lay there for me.”

His words were lulling you to sleep, that deep, velvety voice paired with his raspy grunts were more than soothing. Your lids started to get heavier by the second, you knew you were close. Any more of this and you were sure to tap out.

Your cheek was pressed against the surface below you. Eyes rolled so far back, it seemed like you could take a peek of your brain if you tried hard enough. It felt like your soul momentarily left your body as you started convulsing below him.

“Sir ‘m gonna, fuckkk, I’m coming!”

“There you go, love. Ease into it for me.” Although you were well over your limit, Bruce’s movements were still as vigorous as ever. 

You could tell he was close. As his thrusts got sloppier, your hips dug further into the edge of the desk, leaving marks along the surrounding skin.

“Broosh, please, I can’t ‘nymore. ‘M tired baby.” you babbled. Your barely formed words were only proof of how your consciousness was holding on by a thread.

“Shhhh. Just let me put you to rest, angel. Let your husband take care of you t’night.” Bruce’s cock throbbed, the thick appendage desperately looking for release.

Your entire body was limp by now, overstimulated beyond belief. It didn't even register how lifeless your legs were until you felt two arms scoop you up, hugging your midriff. You could just imagine how insane the scene must have looked, two grown adults humping over a table like a pair of wild dogs.

Eyes shut, you were nearly asleep at this point, the only sign of life from you were the light whimpers slipping past your plump lips. Your only purpose by now was to let your husband use you as he pleased, like some ragdoll.

Bruce couldn’t take it anymore. His movements stuttered as his senses came to a peak, “Mmm s-shit Y/N, just stay right there for me sweetheart, I got you.”

Once again, your insides fluttered as cum coated your heat. You felt his weight collapse on top of you as he tried to collect himself. Feeling him pull out, the thick, white liquid painted your skin as your hole throbbed from the aftershocks. 

Bruce’s member continued to pulsate, airy ‘ahs’ nd ‘mhms’ could be heard throughout the room. Bringing you down from you high, you heard a voice speak up from behind you, “You okay, darling? I wasn’t too rough, was I?”

“Mm-mm,” you rumbled, not having the energy to give a real response. 

“Don’t give out on me yet, angel,” affectionately rubbing at your exposed skin, Bruce moved to tidy you up, “Let’s get you dressed so we can go home alright?”

Grabbing some spare napkins from a nearby tissue box, your doting husband wiped you down. He made sure to clean up every ounce of the thick cream dripping down your thighs.

Kneeling down, he moved to pull up your trousers, softly kissing the expanse of your legs along the way. You could barely react to his touch considering how spent you were.

As you wobbly stood to your feet, Bruce quickly went to pick you up bridal style, your head slugging against his firm chest.

Honestly, you should have known you would end up in this position the second he walked through the door.  As resistant as you were in the beginning, you can help but feel appreciative of Bruce’s actions, the love you have for him growing by the minute.

Unbeknownst to you, however, there was a reason your husband decided to surprise you tonight.

The case you had been working on, well there was a reason the forensic reports weren’t matching up. There had been a new villain roaming the streets of Gotham, and while Bruce didn’t know who he was yet, he knew he was more than dangerous.

As he placed you in the passenger’s seat, Bruce’s mind traveled to all the innocent lives that had been taken by the hands of this corrupt individual. He surely wouldn’t be able to live with himself if you ended up one of them.

Although he admired your determination, the dark knight knew better than to allow the love of his life to follow a path of such evil. 

So if this little “distraction” was the only way to throw you off their trail, then so be it.

a/n: feedback is always welcome and reblogs are always appreciated!! ilyyy

[bratbarzal]

On My Side (NH13)

Pairing: Nico "I think the hockey gods were on my side" Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy

WC: 6k

part of the On Your Side universe

*This is a bonus chapter set after the ending of the overall fic, and can be read as a standalone if you haven't read the fic, but if you want to understand their dynamic and Poppy's personality a little more, you should!!!

Description: 18+ MDNI, Nico comes home to Poppy after scoring his first ever career hat-trick for the Devils. Way more fluff than smut but Nico is down bad as always.

A/N: You're all a bunch of enablers and that's all I have to say on the matter!!! Hope this fills the void while I continue to struggle with chapter ten lmao there is mention of Baby Cheeto in here but no spoilers for her name. Nico calls her Bug as a nickname, like _____-Bug, Chäferli (little bug) or just Bug for short, but it isn't her actual name. I can't use Cheeto forever lmao. I was literally trying to think of a title and remembered he said the words "on my side" WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HE'S A MASTERMIND he's an oys!truther if I ever saw one! Painfully obsessed with Poppy if you ask me. Also the way Cheeto would rock the heck out of this it's so cute I had to share

Nico Hischier likes to think he’s a patient man.

Finally scoring his first career hat-trick after 8 years in the NHL, after 476 games played with the Devils, would be the ultimate testament to that.

Doing so in the first ever game with his daughter in attendance - on home turf, his mother and Poppy holding her up in the family suite during warm-ups in her little Devils teddy sleeper that he can only just make out from down on the ice, but has his rampant heart beating out of his chest all the same - has him thinking that maybe, after all those years, after all those games, the stars had been aligning for him the whole time. 

And it was that sort of patience he had tried to tune into since the end of the second period, when he knew Poppy had left early to try skip traffic and get their little girl home safe for bed.

It’s what he tries to channel in the aftermath of the game, swarmed by reporters in the locker room, trying to remain polite and professional, not rushing them through their questions or giving half-assed answers - knowing he owes a lot more than that to the organisation that has allowed him to get this far. Trying to save just a speck of energy to give when he finally gets home, collapsing into the warm embrace of the girls he knows are waiting patiently for him.

It’s what he holds onto when he has to take a detour on his way home, dropping his mom off at her hotel and trying not to visibly squirm in his seat as she regales him with stories of how his daughter had captured the hearts of everyone she encountered, swallowing down the slight jealousy that he hadn’t been there to see it and clinging to the fact that he had his own success elsewhere in the night - success that played second fiddle in his own mother’s eyes to the experience of sharing her granddaughter’s first ever game with her, an experience he had to endure twice as she called his father from his car, deep chuckles ringing through the speakers as he tried to get a word in edge ways beyond her excitement.

It’s what has him shaking with anticipation as he almost skips down the hall to their apartment, mustering up the rest of his energy to walk into their home without the weight of the world on his shoulders, leaving any doubt, any insecurity, any lingering self-deprecation at the door so he can bask in this moment with the two hearts that are shaped entirely to fit him into them.

And it’s what has him shaking off whatever disappointment tries to creep in when he sees his little girl asleep in Poppy’s arms, knowing whatever tiny part of her he will ever get will always be enough - even if her big, glassy eyes aren’t looking up at him, even if he doesn’t come home to one of those heart-stopping beaming smiles she has started to give to him whenever he enters the room - her being here, sleeping safely in the arms of her beautiful mother, and him getting to come home to whatever version of them he can, is more than he could ever ask for.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the hat-trick hero.” Poppy’s soft voice carries to him as he makes his way over, dropping his bag on the floor and keys on the counter, heading straight to where she is now standing and pressing a kiss to her waiting lips. “Hi, handsome.”

“She didn’t wanna say goodnight to her daddy, huh?” He tries not to sound too dejected - he’s supposed to be on a high, after all - but after half an hour of his mother unintentionally bragging about all the attention she had been giving to her Gromi all night, he can’t help the slight sag of his shoulders - especially knowing that she’s going to be spending the morning with his mom tomorrow, too.

“Sorry, baby, we watched a little of you on the TV and then she got hangry,” Nico finds himself hypnotised by her still figure, enamoured with the way she exudes sheer calmness. The smile that creeps up on his lips seems to do so by muscle memory - a dopey kind of smile he’s probably had plastered on his face since she came into the world kicking and screaming 2 months ago, a smile permanently etched into his features from probably even before that. “I promise I tried to keep her up, she literally fell asleep on my boob.” Poppy whispers, watching with warm, glittery eyes as Nico takes in the sight of his two favourite people in front of him - Poppy already changed into one of his shirts, settled for the night, and his baby girl all cosy in her little teddy bear onesie, pacifier bobbing between her plush little lips.

“Look at her hat,” he pouts, running a finger along the folded seam of the way-too-big beanie Poppy has perched on top of her head, the knit fabric falling just short of her closed eyes. “That’s adorable.”

“Your mom put it on her before we left,” Poppy chuckles lightly, “Wanted to keep it on until you got home, we had to celebrate the hatty properly.” Her brows raise as if gesturing to the bill of the cap on her own head, one of his, he’s sure - no doubt stolen from their closet as soon as she got home.

“My little good luck charm,” he leans down to press a kiss to her cheek before he lifts himself back up and bends toward Poppy, “Gonna have to start coming to all the games.”

“I’ll let you break the news to her when she wakes up,” she hums as he presses his lips to hers, “She has a very low tolerance for everybody telling her to smile and getting all up in her space, been grouchy all night.”

“Just like Mami, huh, bug?”

“Oh, you think you’ve got jokes now?” Poppy scoffs as she steps back, ready to take their daughter to bed.  “Score your first hatty and you think you’re funny?”

“Always been funny, babe,” he smirks, flicking at the cap sat on her head before he takes it off, flipping it to place on top of his own and following her down the hall. “I’ll prove it to you when I get her first laugh.”

“She’ll be laughing at you, not with you.”

“Better than nothing.”

Nico sits on the edge of their bed as Poppy reaches into the crib to retrieve the sleeping bag in there before she lays it down beside him. He does the work unzipping and readying it for her to place their daughter inside while she rocks her still-sleeping body, and the two of them work in tandem to get her inside before zipping her back up, with Nico softly pulling the beanie from her head and watching her fluffy hair fan out in its absence. 

He runs a gentle hand over her head to smooth it down as Poppy lifts her, and leans into where she offers her up for a kiss before she puts her in the crib. Nico watches with a soft smile etched into his features, the familiarity of it all spreading warmth throughout his chest, his favourite part of every day being this - sharing a goodnight routine in the comfortable quiet, the two loves of his life safe and happy within arms reach.

None of it feels new or daunting anymore, just easy - and despite the constant warnings of it not always being this way, Nico just wants to feel it to its fullest extent; sheer happiness and serenity. 

Poppy returns to the front of him, and he instinctively spreads his legs to accommodate her, palms laying flat against his chest and his hands falling to her hips. She just looks at him for a good few seconds, eyes shimmering with admiration, lips tugged between teeth and a head tilted as her expression flickers into something more intense. 

Her hands travel down his arms, wordlessly, until she grasps at his wrists and pulls him to stand, leaning up to press a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. “C’mon,” she whispers while her lips are still against his skin, “Wanna celebrate you.”

As if getting to come home to her isn’t celebration enough.

He follows her back through the hall with their hands clasped together, arms stretched between them so he can watch the hem of his shirt ride up against the backs of her soft thighs, and he starts to feel his throat go dry.

He thinks of all those mornings they would spend in the kitchen together in the summer, his shirts a little tighter around her pregnant belly, riding up against her curves and leaving very little to the imagination when she’d wear just his t-shirt and nothing else.

She’s wearing panties now, he can tell, could see the bottom of them peaking out when she’d leaned over to put their daughter in her crib. But he doesn’t mind inching them off, quite likes the slow pace of unwrapping her like a gift - a well-deserved present for all his hard efforts on the ice.

It’s where his fingers find themselves almost immediately when she stops just short of the couch, spinning and practically launching herself into his waiting arms. He can’t help but chuckle as they collide, large arms wrapping around her frame as she melts into him, hands gripping either side of his jaw to pull him down in a clash of teeth and tongues. He palms at her ass as she presses her hips forward, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties and wriggling under them until his knuckles are covered by the fabric, squeezing at the flesh until she groans into his open mouth. 

He feels deft fingers working between them to rid him of his own clothes, clumsily popping open the buttons of his jacket before working their way up his chest, slipping into the arms and helping him shrug it off. The weight of it drops to the floor with a heavy thud, and when her hands return to his chest for the next item of clothing to be removed, she pushes him back with an exaggerated huff.

“Baby, how many layers do you need?”

“You in some kind of rush, or something?” He chuckles, chasing her lips with a crane of his neck, getting a quick kiss in before she pushes him back again with palms laid flat on his broad chest.

“Your daughter has some sort of radar for when we’re within 2 inches of each other,” she says as her hands slide down, the feel of them through the extra layers he has on still present as she travels past the hard ridges of his abdomen. She grasps tight at the bottom of his hoody, and he lends a hand to tugging it up and over his head, throwing that to the floor, too. “We gotta get a move on before she wakes up,”

“My daughter?” He scoffs, removing his undershirt while she’s distracted, relishing the feeling of a heavy gaze on his chest once it’s fully revealed to her hungry eyes. “She’s really given you such a hard time that you’re disowning her?”

“She isn’t letting me have a hard time at all, that’s the problem.” Her hands reach back out seemingly of their own volition, fingers fanning out across his skin as her stare glides down, the weight of it sliding down his skin to the point he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. 

“That was weak for you.” He teases.

“I’m out of practice,” she pouts, closing the distance once more and pressing her lips to the slightly stubbled skin of his jaw, nipping at the flesh as her ministrations travel across his features, his jaw, his neck, the spot just below his ear, where she mutters, “Wanna show you how proud I am of you,”

“Oh yeah?” He asks as she works at the button of his pants, pushing until they pool at his feet and he can kick them off.

“Mmhm,” she moves her kisses back to his waiting lips, “Been waiting to get my hands on you all night.”

“Been waiting to get my hands on you all day,” he mutters back, bending to lift her with hands gripping her ass, “Been thinking about you teasing me in the kitchen this morning,” he starts heading for the couch, mind spinning as she continues kissing him - thinking of all the plans she had been making for the two of them while his mom takes Little Bug out in the morning, finally giving them some much needed, uninterrupted time to themselves. Plans of wasting the morning away between the sheets, sharing showers, having no responsibilities other than paying attention to one another. “Thinking about having you all to myself tomorrow."

“You gonna let me give you a preview?” 

He chuckles as he falls back onto the couch, all grace thrown out the window as they sink into the cushions, her still holding onto him and now straddling his lap, lips stretched into a blissful smile as he looks up at her.

She presses them straight to his, and he can’t bring himself to mind the way their teeth clash at her eagerness, hips grinding down onto his as she settles onto her knees.

He could spend forever kissing her like this, sensual and sloppy, the slight scratch of her nails against the sides of his neck and his grip on her thighs guiding her movements straight onto the aching growth between his legs.

He bucks up to meet her, and their lips part with a wet smack as she groans. 

"Bet you can’t wait for me to shave, eh?” he smiles as he swipes a thumb across the space between her nose and lip, the skin red raw from the scratch of his moustache.

“You know damn well I’d ban you from ever touching a razor again if I could.” She says, breathlessly, slowly thrusting down onto him.

“Tell that to your little red muzzy, you’re giving Luke a run for his money,”

“Hey,” she swats at his chest in feigned outrage, “The kid tried his best!” 

“No more talk about Hughes when you’re sat on my lap,”

“You brought him up!”

“Thought I was getting a preview,” he groans as he shuffles, reaching between them to slip a hand between her legs, tucking his fingers beneath her panties and swiping against her heat. “Jesus, Poppy.”

“Told you I’ve been thinking about you all night,” she pecks at his lips again, raising her hips a little to give him further access to slide his fingers through the almost excessive wetness that’s near enough soaked through her panties. 

He prods at her entrance, two fingers slipping straight in until she’s gasping against his cheek in sheer bliss. His digits move with ease, working his way up to his knuckles as he drinks up her pleasured moans, his chin tilting until their open mouths just press together without kissing, panting against one another as he works her up. 

He pushes the fabric of his shirt up her thighs with his other hand, exposing his handiwork to hungry eyes so he can see the way she glistens between her legs - can see the way his fingers slide in an out of her.

She takes his shirt off, throwing it beside them on the couch so she can see too, looking down for only a moment before she’s throwing her head back.

He’s so hard just watching her that it’s almost painful - straining against the seams of his briefs until they’re tenting beneath her. And she must notice, nimble fingers working him out until he’s thick and hot and heavy in her palm, gripping around him in with her thumb swiping at his tip, hips shuffling until his fingers slip out of her heat and she can move on her knees to hover above his waiting cock. 

He takes a hold of himself while her hands raise to steady herself on his shoulders, and he waits with bated breath as she lowers herself, sinking past her entrance until he’s sheathed entirely, tight, wet walls wrapped around him in a long-awaited embrace.

Their moans fall out in sync, both of them stilling, the only movements between them being the soft rise and fall of panting chests. 

It’s a minute before she starts to rock her hips, leaning back down to distract herself from whatever unease needs to fade away with the press of her lips to his - tongue swiping at his, sucking and nipping at the muscle as she works herself to the point where she can lift herself up a little.

“Fuck me,” he whines out in an elongated groan as she sinks down on him again, tight and slick and warm, and he feels tension in every cell in his body, strung taut to the point where he feels like he could snap entirely in any given moment.

“I’m working on it,” she pouts, “Think I overestimated my talents here,”

“Think you’re very talented,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her jaw as he lays large hands on the dip of her waist, fingers tickling into the arch of her back so her movements are a little smoother, a little more fluid. “So good to me, yeah? Just need a hand.”

He guides her hips into a steady rhythm - up, down, forward, back - until she’s rocking onto him in a mind numbing pace. 

God, he thinks, this is heaven.

It’s been so long since he’s had her like this. Probably all the way back in Switzerland in the summer, and he thinks a lot about this situation mirrors that - trying to stay quiet, trying to feel as much of each other as they possibly can without drawing attention from sleeping parties one room over. 

He remembers thinking, all those months ago, that it wouldn’t be possible to love Poppy any more than he did, then - that he couldn’t possibly feel more for her than he did when he shared that part of his world, and she had embraced it with open arms. She had blended straight into his family, had adapted herself to his routine, had brought new life and colour to what he had always considered vibrant, anyway, but she had changed the meaning of it all.

But she had done the same to life in Jersey. 

Long gone were any feelings of homesickness he used to get - especially around this time of the year. Fully immersed now into his season, summer seeming too far from his reach that he started to forget what home felt like. But not anymore.

Home is Poppy. Home is their baby girl sleeping soundly in the next room. It’s playing one of the greatest games of his career so far, meeting milestones he had been reaching for for so long, standing in the centre of the arena he has built his career in, hearing the rapturous cheers of fans chanting his name, and driving back knowing the love garnered there could never possibly compare to the love waiting for him in his apartment.

He brings her face down with a palm splayed gently across her jaw, fingers reaching back to tickle at the nape of her neck and thumb swiping tenderly at her soft cheekbone, until their mouths collide. He shifts his hips to meet her ministrations, finding a rhythm that has her gasping into his mouth, enough that his tongue can slip past the seam of her lips and press against hers - hot and fervid and eager.

He wonders as the pressure builds if this passion will ever wither. If this need to profess his love for her will ever wain away, if he’ll ever be casual about the way in which she has become the entire centre of his universe.

He hopes not. 

He hopes when he’s 80, he looks over at her and his heart still hammers in his chest. He hopes his mouth struggles to make sense of all the ways in which his brain tries to convey what she means to him - hopes he still stutters around his sentences and feels weak to the very base of his spine at the mere thought of her. 

In fact, he doesn’t hope at all.

He knows he will.

“You feel so good,” Poppy mutters into his mouth, panting against his swollen lips, “I’ve missed this so much.”

“Yeah?” He thrusts up, “You missed being full of me?”

He’s missed this far out look in her eyes, glassed over and almost gone as she nods in response - they haven’t really been able to get to this stage with their quick fumbles and rushed hookups in the last 2 weeks since she got the all clear from her doctor for them to start being intimate again. Sure, they had developed other methods over those first 6 weeks, making good use of hands and mouths in whatever limited time they could find together, but nothing compares to this.

To being attached at every point like they are one.

“You gonna come for me?”

He still remembers her tells, fluttering lashes, trembling thighs, stuttered breaths all combined with the spine tingling way in which she tightens around him, and he manages to time it so they come together, one final burst of energy used to lift his hips just as she sinks down, body slumping into tremors that wrack through the both of them.

He holds her in place for a second, large hands pushing his shirt up her back as he starts to rub circles into her flesh, soothing her back into a softened consciousness - hazy and frazzled but still in tune with every movement he makes. 

Her nose presses into the expanse of his neck, lips pecking at all the sensitive spots she can seek out as they both try to catch their breaths - and he realises she was probably right before, they haven’t had time like this for a while now. 

Still, he’ll take what he can get.

She lifts her hips just enough for him to slip out, and reaches to the small table at the side of the couch where she has miraculously stashed a pack of baby wipes. She takes two out, using one to clean the both of them before she bundles it into the clean one and discards of it back onto the table to be disposed when she eventually gets the feeling back in her legs.

And it’s as soon as Poppy’s legs give way and she collapses into him that they both hear it - a soft wail carrying through the monitor behind the couch. Cries filling the space around them and bursting their bubble with an almighty pop!

“Told you,” Poppy mumbles into his neck, skin sticky with a soft sheen of sweat. “Won’t even let me get a hatty of my own,”

Nico scoffs, snorting out a loud chuckle that shakes where she rests on his chest, and despite her feigned irritation, she feels her cheeks puff out into a soft, unbreakable grin. “Like you’d have lasted 3 rounds.”

“What happened to me being very talented?” She pouts, mustering whatever strength she has left to push herself up, swinging a leg back over and moving to stand, only for him to grasp back at her, pulling her until her back falls into the plush of the couch.

“Talented, Poppy, not super human,” he chuckles, standing from the cushions and tucking himself back into his briefs. “I’ve got her.”

“It’s probably wind, I changed and fed her before she went down.”

He presses one last kiss to Poppy’s head before heavy feet carry him down the hall toward their bedroom, where their daughter’s crib is temporarily positioned until she starts to sleep a little further through the night. He doesn’t bother flicking the light on as he enters, able to follow his muscle memory straight over to where she is without tripping over his own feet, and he lifts her as soon as he can, cooing at her as she cries into his chest.

“I’ve got you, Chäferli,” he mutters as he rocks her gently, large hand completely encompassing where he can feel her back through her sleeping bag. “Daddy’s here,”

He reaches over to shut off the monitor before he ambles over to his and Poppy’s bed, sitting with his daughter still clutched to his chest, little hiccups coming out as his hand tries to work up her wind. 

“Got yourself all worked up, huh?” He asks, so deep into his routine of talking to her about anything and everything that he no longer second guesses it. “My little bug, you’re okay.”

It takes a good few minutes to calm her down, to the point that Nico thinks she might even be hungry and he’ll have to call Poppy in, wiggling a finger between her lips to see if she latches on, but he continues to pat and rub at her back until she burps, and her cries turn into little coos, that turn into soft pants with wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him in wonder. 

He looks down at her in the same way, dark eyes flitting across her every feature. Across the soft but thick head of hair, the crazy long eyelashes, the puffy lips and the little button nose. 

She looks so much like Poppy that he feels his chest ache every time he looks at her - but it’s a good kind of ache, a longing and content kind of ache, that only aches to remind him of everything he stands to lose if he doesn’t work hard enough to keep it.

“Gromi told me you were charming everybody at daddy’s work,” he tells her with a soft smile, the pad of his finger pressing at the tip of her nose. “Says she’s gonna have to show you off around the city on her own tomorrow.”

Tiny fingers reach up to clasp around his, holding on and clutching with a grip he’s sure wasn’t so firm that morning when he had said his goodbyes. 

“Careful, bug,” he tells her, “You hold Papi’s hand too long and he won’t let you go.”

Wide eyes gleam back at him, and he watches in awe as they start to crinkle in the corners. 

He becomes all too aware of the hammering of his heart, and lays her beside him on the bed in fears that the echoing thud of it beating against his chest might disturb her. He curls up beside her, making sure she’s flat as he gets himself comfortable, and just lays there for a good few minutes, watching her as she watches him.

There isn’t a feeling in the world that compares to this, he thinks. He could score a hundred hat-tricks, have a million people chanting his name, and it won’t come close to how adored he feels in this moment, how proud he feels to have played any part in making a little human so perfect and beautiful.

He leans forward, kissing softly at her puffy cheek, careful not to press too hard that she feels the scratch of his moustache, and he relishes the little squeal of what he hopes is delight she gives in return. 

Poppy gives it 20 minutes before she decides to venture through to their bedroom, having cleaned up and busied herself sterilising bottles so they’re ready for Katja to come pick up in the morning. It’s been a rare occurrence lately that Nico has had his one-on-one time with their daughter, him being so busy with training and their trip to Florida - and he wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t fess up to the ways in which it gets him down, but she knows he feels like he’s missing a lot. 

She changes so much day to day - discovers so much about the world around her - and as much as Poppy tries to save things for him to see on his own, tries to find the balance between sharing the little moments she gets with him and letting him experience them for himself, she knows there’s nothing she can do to keep that nagging voice at bay.

He’s always been that way, unable to completely silence the thoughts that tell him no matter what he does, it isn’t enough. 

He’d even done it tonight - his first career hat-trick, him being the first Swiss-born player to score a natural hat-trick, a stadium filled with fans chanting his name, dominating a team the Devils hadn’t beat at home in close to 10 years - and it hadn’t been his best performance. 

She would gladly spend the rest of her life convincing him he’s good enough, she thinks. 

Her and their little Bug being the ones who get to welcome him home after a night like tonight? She doesn’t know what she did in a past life to get the Gods on her side like this, but she’d do it again a thousand times over.

As her feet pad softly down the hall toward their room, she listens out for the soft voice she usually has the pleasure of eavesdropping on when she thinks he doesn’t know she’s hovering on the other side of the door. A soft voice that tells their little girl exaggerated stories from his day about her uncles, about his games, about whatever he got up to while he was away and what he brought back for her from his travels. But this time, it’s quiet - the peaceful kind of quiet that wraps around her like a blanket, tranquil and warming as she pushes the door open and steps into the room.

Nico is curled up on his side of the bed, on top of the covers, and his arm is draped gently over their daughter’s sleeping bag, their faces inches apart as soft snores fall from their parted lips. She inches closer as quiet as she can manage, leaning over them and taking in their similar profiles - the gentle slope of their mirrored noses, dark lashes framing closed eyes that are turning darker to match her daddy’s day by day.

If anyone had told the Poppy of last November that this is where she would be now - that this is where she’d be with Nico - she never in a million years would have believed it. 

He has transformed her life in such little time that she can barely remember the before. Can barely remember a night she fell asleep in any other bed, by any other side, or woke up to anyone else. Can barely remember feeling anything close to this kind of happiness, this kind of content.

It’s like he’s introduced her to a whole new level of feelings. Ones she struggles to describe, like there’s no word in the English language that could possibly convey what he means to her.

Maybe his language has a word for it. Something that she’s never heard before, but just sounds right. Like she knew it somewhere much deeper than her brain allowed her access. She’ll have to ask him, tomorrow - when they finally have a morning to themselves and she can work up the energy to crawl out from under the sheets with him.

A part of her wishes she could take a snapshot of this moment - could send it back in time to the Poppy who never thought this kind of life would ever find her. The Poppy who was drifting, coasting, floating, afraid of landing on her own two feet and having to drag them for the rest of time through unfamiliar territories. The Poppy who pushed down her ever expanding adoration for the man currently cuddled up to their entire life in the bed they share, who convinced herself he could never possibly feel the same way, and wasted years of her life when she could have had this.

But another part of her thinks, what’s the point?

She has him, now. 

She’ll have him forever.

She allows herself to watch for a minute as they take deep breaths in sync, all the post-game tension in Nico’s body long melted away, before she quietly shuffles over to the bathroom to get herself ready for bed. 

She manages to make her way back over in the dark without stumbling, by some miracle, and reaches over to pick her baby girl up without interrupting her sleep, standing beside her crib and rocking her a little just to make sure she’s still fully drifted off - relishing the feeling of soft puffs of air falling into her neck as she cradles her.

Nico must wake at the loss of contact, instincts kicking in immediately when he can no longer feel the little body that had been resting under his protective arm, and when Poppy looks back over, she can see the reflective glint in his eyes as he watches her - soft and adoring and tooth-achingly sweet. 

Instead of putting her down, she bounces gently on her feet back over to Nico’s side of the bed, sitting beside him as he shuffles up, and the two of them just watch their daughter as she sleeps. 

For all the times they have been warned that this bliss is temporary, that it’s just a phase, Poppy can’t see it ending for as long as Nico looks at her like this. Like he has the entire world sat in front of him. 

“She was smiling at me before,” he whispers as he repositions himself, legs spread so that Poppy can sit between them. “Was trying to get her to calm down, and she was just looking straight at me with those big sparkly eyes and she smiled right at me.”

“She was doing it a little when we got home, earlier.” Poppy whispers back, hoping he doesn’t mind her raining on his parade a little to tell this story, “We just caught your interview on TV after the game, and there was this close up of you, and she smiled so big, Nico. She never smiles like that for anybody.”

“That’s ‘cause you snitch on her and tell everyone it’s gas.”

“I don’t want anyone else thinking they’re special.”

“But I am?” He asks, reaching to swipe the back of his finger softly against her cheek, the soft moonlight sifting into the room reflecting off of the ring on his finger, the quick glimmer enough to catch Poppy’s eye, to distract her so much that she can only hum in response, lips curving into a tender smile. 

“Yeah,” she breathes, the tranquility of the room a stark contrast to the way her heart erupts into thunderous applause for him - akin to that of the stadium full of fans earlier that night. Thousands of voices chanting his name, singing his praises, cheering him on for all the glory he brought to their night. He brings that to Poppy, tenfold, every day. “You’re really special.”

He leans over their sleeping daughter to press a loving kiss to Poppy’s lips, careful not to disturb the little angel between them, and Poppy kisses him straight back, fervent but fleeting.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” she mutters into his mouth, careful not to invest too much of herself into another moment they’ll swiftly get interrupted from. 

“You gonna show me in the morning?” He mumbles back, their lips still touching, noses pressed together, his hand still cradling her face. She nods, and he feels her cheeks round into his palm. “Gonna give me that hatty you promised?”

“Gonna give you whatever you want.”

“Another baby, Frau?”

She scoffs, swallowing down the fizzing feeling at the back of her throat the nickname. 

“Ask me again after your next hat-trick.” 

[sttoru]

thinking ab suguru and whiny reader 🤞🤞 I mean he already deals w gojo im sure he can deal w us 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

tags. (soft) dom!suguru x female reader. unprotected sex, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, bits of dumbification and sprinkle of slapping.

“suguruu ! please, please..” desperate small whines filled suguru’s ears while he had both your wrists pinned above your head. you looked so pathetic underneath him like that; getting teased and edged until all you could do was whine and beg him for more. he even lost count of the amount of times you’d came already while he hasn’t reached an orgasm even once.

“what’s that, sweetheart?” the dark-haired man coos, knowing damn well what you needed as he pressed his swollen tip just slightly into your gaping hole before taking it out again, “you can keep begging me all you want, but ‘m not fucking you until you can use your words properly.”

you could’ve sworn that you saw stars as your body started to go numb with the amount of pleasure suguru had given you the past hour. his teasing was a form of pure (enjoyable) torture; from ‘accidentally’ grazing his fingertips against your sensitive nipples to fully denying your orgasms. and if you did orgasm without his permission, well, you’d have to start the process all over again.

“suguru.. please—want you in.. inside.” you beg as your hips squirmed around, trying to find a way to somehow take his dick all the way in, instead of just constantly feeling his tip against your aching cunt.

“aht, aht.” suguru tightens his grip on your wrists in response, grabbing your face with his other hand - his fingers keeping ahold of your jaw in a firm manner. he makes you look him in the eyes; strands of his black hair covering parts of his vision.

“don’t you dare move, sweet thing.” he murmurs, pushing his hips slightly forward to tease your poor cunt by rubbing his pre-cum over your folds again, “let me take care of you, yeah? you just use that whiny voice of yours to ask for it.”

you whimper a little, nodding at suguru’s words. you looked fucked out of your mind, yet his cock hadn’t even had the chance to get a taste of that sloppy pussy of yours. when your lower body involuntarily gravitates towards suguru again, you felt a slap against your cheek; not a hard one, but more of a soft tap with the palm of his large hand, “what’d i tell you just now?”

“no movin’— b-but.. !” you were cut off by a hiss from suguru. that was a second warning for you. a third one wouldn’t end good for you. you immediately press your lips together and swallow the saliva that gathered inside of your mouth, looking up at suguru towering above your body with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

his gaze softened once he noticed your defeated self. “good girl. now, beg me to fuck you and i’ll see what i can do, alright?”

suguru was a man of patience. he could do this all day if he wanted to. your needy babbles and whines left him satisfied after all.

[elvisabutler]

availability

fandom: elvis 2022 | elvis presley rating: m pairing: elvis presley x female reader word count: 3094 warnings: possessiveness. allusions to cheating. slight public play/voyueristic vibes. elvis being elvis. reader not necessarily being the most demure sort of gal. unprotected p in v, y'all know the drill. a bit of fingering. a bit of jerking off. minor truly blink and miss it breeding kink LIKE I HESITATE TO EVEN CALL IT THAT. but just in case! author’s note: welcome to day 16 of ally’s wet hot smut summer, possessive/possession kink with 50s elvis. so. funny story this has been partially written since before i dropped off the face of the planet. so if it sounds a little like it was written not in one go, you're correct. consider this an exercise in seeing if i've forgotten how to write. if y'all want more, i've got things so many things like written just not finished. so we'll see what i can do. with a side of at this point i'm not against just throwing my written chunks of stuff out there. also, word to the wise, one bedroom apartments are not fun with toddlers. and trying to move up in your career/get more money at your job does always come with fun stipulations that include AH LET US MAKE SURE YOU'RE THE ONE FOR THE JOB. saints help me it's been a pain.

You've dated boys before, dated them and watched them have wandering eyes and allowed yourself to have a wandering eye. A little tit for tat, you reckon, but even when they get angry about it, they just break things off. Tell you that if you can't be faithful then there's no use dating you. The irony's never lost on you, how you have to pure and virginal and the pinnacle of charm while every boy just has to exist and smile at a girl for them to fall to pieces over them. It doesn't matter though, you're the sort of girl who can charm the right sort of boy that you want.

Of course, you never really thought you could pull in Elvis Presley. Maybe before he was famous, when he was just a nervous little boy in Memphis. But as soon as they started playing his records all across the United States? Oh that was supposed to be a lost cause, a foregone wish upon a star. Yet, here you were, dating him and falling faster and faster into a hole you're thinking is deep unending love for this man. If you could, if he'd let you- you'd be going on tour with him. You'd find yourself in a cramped little car with him and the boys just so you could make sure he's yours. The first tour he had to take right after you kissed for the time almost ended up with you in the car because he was worried you'd forget about him while he was gone.

As if you could forget those plush lips that molded so perfectly against your own mouth. As if you could forget those plush lips that left a hickey or five across your breasts and one plainly on your neck. It might have painted you to be a bit of a harlot and a loose girl, but you couldn't have cared. Not when you were dating Elvis Presley. Not when you had what other girls begged and prayed for at the sides of their beds every night.

The funny thing about dating Elvis though, the funny thing you never thought would be an issue is that other men seemed to take it as a challenge. Those same boys who would cast you aside for having a wandering eye if they were with you wanted you to look their way.

Elvis isn't around, they'd joke as they'd place unwanted hands on your arm.

You deserve a guy who's dependable and here with you, they'd tell you with smiles that never quite reach their eyes.

You deserve a guy who'd never cheat on you or look at another girl, they'd assure you and it was always then that you laughed.

Elvis always promises to tell you what happens on the road and he knows better. There was one time he had slipped and even though you never take a man back after he slips like that, you do it for Elvis. Not because you lower your standards, but because it doesn't happen in front of you. You aren't forced to face the girl he thinks is prettier every single day. Besides, his apology when he arrived home more than made up for it.

Elvis is due to come back today and he's told you a million and one times about the night he has planned for the two of you, one with friends a good ole time before the two of you would run and retreat away to his bedroom. Sure, his mama might have something to say about it, but you're his girl and you make him as happy as anything. She wouldn't tell you to go home or sleep in another room.

The problem is that the world doesn't always run on Elvis time and how sometimes trips on the road take just a little longer than they should so you have to be a good host with his mama. You're in a dress you bought especially for Elvis's homecoming and it fits you in the way you know he likes. In a way you know most men like, but that's just something you have to live with for right now. Besides, you figure no one would be stupid enough to try anything now that Elvis is right in front of them.

You probably should have known better.

The whistle is what catches your attention first, your ears and body well trained to hear and to turn at Elvis's low whistle when it came to your body.

"You only wear things like that for him?" You hear the man say before you fully turn around and realize that it's not Elvis whistling for you at all. You think it's one of his friends- more like an acquaintance you imagine but you've learned it's best not to ask Elvis about how he knows some people after the last time both you and his mama ended up wondering who someone was at what was supposed to be a neighborly affair.

Your jaw tightens just a hair before you manage to smile the sort of pretty smile that's at least somewhat expected of you as a good Southern girl. "Considerin' we're goin' steady I'd hope so. Bet your girl'd do the same thing."

"Only girl I want-" He starts to tell you before you see his eyes widen just a hair and you feel a firm grip around your waist. "Elvis- I-"

"I heard ya. Heard the whistle, too." Elvis's voice is pitched low in a way you're not quite used to hearing. Against your will, you feel goosebumps cover your skin as a rush of desire swoops low in your stomach. "Didn't ya mama teach ya to not steal? Know you've been to church 'nough to learn it at least."

The man for a moment looks offended and as if he wants to fight or argue with Elvis before he grits his teeth. "I wasn't- You know I wouldn't do that. She's your girl, even if you leave her alone like you do."

Against your neck you feel the warmth of Elvis's exhale against your skin, knowing that was the wrong thing for the man to say. Knowing that short of insulting his mama pointing out that Elvis has to leave you to go on tour to make money for himself and his family was the worst thing he could have done. Your hand moves to grasp at Elvis's own only to be rebuffed as Elvis moves from behind you.

"Do I know ya wouldn't do that? Thought I could trust ya t'come to my homecomin', thought ya wouldn't try anythin' with my girl. Not that she'd want anythin' from ya, not when she's got me, right darlin'?" He glances back at you with eyes darker than you've ever seen them. A rough exhale leaves your body before you nod.

"Not a damn thing."

Elvis's lips curl into a bit of a smile before he turns back to the man. "Ya heard it straight from her lips. Now, get outta here or 'm gonna have to- Gonna have to make her watch me hit ya or somethin'."

Normally Elvis trying to act tough and rough like he's James Dean or Marlon Brando wouldn't excite you but there's something about the way the man walks off that has your body heating up and your breath exiting your body in pants. Your eyes glance around to see if anyone's watching what just happened only to find that everyone is too preoccupied with food and talking among each other.

"Sorry 'bout that darlin'-" Elvis starts to speak, apologizing in a murmur as if anyone else hearing it would cause a scene. He stops when he notices how you're breathing. How your eyes are looking at him and he can't help but smirk just a little. "Somethin' wrong?"

Somethin' wrong, he asks, like he can't half read you like a book when you get aroused. Any other time and you're certain you'd likely find some way to wipe that little smirk off his face. Right now? You manage a slight glare at his plush lips before your arm moves up to pull at Elvis's shirt just a tiny bit. That tiny bit is just enough to have his lips hovering over yours.

"Only thing that was wrong just left." You pause, exhaling ever so softly. "But he might still be watching."

One of Elvis's eyebrows shoots up slowly before he chuckles, moving the two of you just enough so that his mouth slides against yours in what he means to be a soft gentle kiss. You don't want a soft gentle kiss though, and can't help the way your tongue presses against the seam of his lips, almost pleading for entry. He answers your plea quicker than you think he will, opening his mouth just so and sliding his tongue against yours. Your teeth move to nip at his lips, wanting to make them red as you do when the two of you are alone. The two of you are in public and that should remind you that you should stop, that you should have some form of decorum so that you aren't making an utter fool of yourself in front of his mother and in front of everyone and yet as you feel his hands move down your body you forget about that. The press of his hands against your torso, grasping as if he's scared you'll disappear have you forgetting that with every passing millisecond.

A quiet whine leaves your lips as he pulls away, his chest not quite heaving in an effort to catch the breath you've stolen from him with your mouth. His eyes dance across your face and down your body before he pulls you close again, not to kiss you but to whisper something to you.

"You're all mine, ain't ya?" There's an undertone that sounds like he's not sure of himself and yet at the same time, he utters it not like the question it is, but like it's a definitive fact. "Always gonna be mine even if I ain't here to fight 'em off?"

Being demure isn't your strong suit but something about those words, something about hearing those words come from Elvis who can be such a shy man despite every single thing he does on stage has you batting your eyelashes like you've seen your friends do a million times before. A nod follows. "Of course. I might not- I might not have your ring 'round my neck, but I am." Your teeth start to worry at your lip, nipping at it in a minor fit of nervousness. "But it- It wouldn't hurt to show people right now that I'm yours. Just by taking me away for a little bit."

Elvis blinks at you, almost as if he's confused before that smirk he had when you first kissed him slides back onto his face. "Darlin', are ya tryin' to get me to leave my own party? That my mama's at? That ya spent so long puttin' together?"

The speed at which your answer comes out of your mouth should embarrass you but there's something about Elvis that sometimes does this to you. That sometimes has that embarrassment sliding right out the window. "I am. I am because now I'm- I'm a bit- I've missed you. And-"

A low laugh leaves his lips. "And what we do together? Missed having to cover up my kisses with make up? Missed walkin' a little crooked?"

You feel your face at heat up at the implication of his last words even as you shift in place just a little. "I mean, if you don't want to give me that- I can go to him instead. I think I can-"

If you didn't know any better you'd have sworn you hear a growl that has you stopping your words dead in their tracks before Elvis practically bellows to everyone. "We'll be right back, gotta- Gotta have a private conversation with my girl."

There's a murmur amongst the crowd and as you pass by Mrs. Presley you swear you hear her sigh so deeply at his actions that you know you will never live this down. Any dread you have for that future talking to his quickly pushed to the side as Elvis grips your hand and practically drags you to the house and up the stairs. You barely get inside the bedroom before you feel his hands moving to push up your dress and find their way under your underwear.

"Mama- Darlin'- This all for me?" He croons, moving his fingers in between your legs in a way that has you curling your toes. "How- How long you been-"

A kiss from you cuts off his question as you moan a little into it. Your hands move to undo his belt, trying to free his uncut length from the confines of his pants. "Since you told- Since you made him leave."

Him, the man who thought he could move in on you because Elvis wasn't there. Him, who thought Elvis wasn't as possessive as you were. Him, who thought you were easy pickings.

"Oh darlin'," Elvis groans a little as your hand wraps around his cock, pulling back the skin slowly. "Let- Let me show them whose you are. Let me show'em you're all mine. Gonna always be mine."

You hum and laugh a little at the words. Was there ever really any doubt you were his? That you would always be his? Maybe in his mind and maybe in yours for a while there was, but- now it seems silly. It seems so silly that you're gonna run off with someone or that even if he's got a million flings on the road that he'll run off with them. Your eyes meet Elvis's blue ones and for a moment you see doubt written clear as day in them. See Elvis acting like the shy boy his mama swears he's been once upon a time. His mouth starts to open, and you silence whatever words were about to escape with a kiss and a tightening of your grip on his cock.

"Show 'em. I'll- I can be loud for 'em. Let 'em hear what you do to me." You mutter as you pull away from the kiss panting.

Elvis smirks like he sometimes does on stage to get all those girls riled up as he lifts you up with a slight grunt and pushes you against the door of the room. "Yeah? Gonna make everyone jealous?"

The words you want to say die on your lips as his lips start to make their way across your neck, nipping and sucking along it and down to your chest while he enters you with a swiftness that has you letting out a loud moan. You think it ought to sting just from how you haven't enjoyed him for a while and how girthy he feels and yet it doesn't. All you feel is the pleasure of cock against your clit and inside your vagina. There's a bit of a noise that you don't realize what it is until you realize it's coming from between your legs every time he moves his cock in and out.

A groan leaves Elvis's mouth when he looks down and realizes the same thing you did. "Makin'- Gonna ruin these pants with all that." The words are stuttered out against your chest as you let out a laugh that quickly turns into another moan as you try and grab at his back, your nails digging into the skin through his shirt just a bit.

"That's- The point." You whimper as you feel your walls start to flutter around him and feel your clit pulsing. "Gotta- God- E-"

The words feel like mush trying to come out your mouth as your brain zeroes in on the feel of Elvis's cock in you, the pants of his breath and the grunts and groans you know everyone can hear. The two of you should be quieter but you can't. You want everyone to know you're his and he's yours as you both come. Still, you know he can't come inside you- not yet, not unless there's a ring on your finger. His parents and your parents can forgive a lot but not that. You move to yank at his hair just slightly, your toes curling at the whine that leaves his lips at the sensation of being pulled away from your chest.

"What're ya-" He starts before you shake your head.

"You gotta pull out. Gotta make sure you do. Can't possess me like that just yet." Your voice is a whisper against his lips as you kiss him once more. "Don't- don't do it."

Elvis's breath comes out in a harsh exhale through his nose at the comment and you swear you hear him grumble something about how he ought to possess you like that, how you'd look good like that and how no one'd think you're not his with that. He does what you ask though, even as your vagina clenches around his cock only for it to be replaced by his fingers. A shudder runs through you as his thumb presses against your clit and his fingers curl just enough for you to shout out his name despite trying to muffle it.

As you feel yourself trembling you can hear the slide of Elvis's hand against his cock and within moments you feel the warm sensation of his cum against your lower stomach and your pubic bone. You shouldn't find it arousing and yet, the feeling has your clit aching as if you hadn't already come just a minute before.

It takes a few minutes of the two of you just panting and trying to catch your bearings against the door before either one of you says another word.

"I should clean-" You start before Elvis cuts you off.

"No. You're- You're gonna pull up your underwear and you're gonna stay like that till tonight. Till all of 'em are gone. Gotta- Gotta make sure they know."

Your mouth opens to tell him no, and then you feel how his grip tightens on your body just a tad. He had been away from you for so long and well- maybe this wasn't the worst thing for you to give to him.

"You gonna clean me up later?" A simple question that you ask while looking down at his lips.

"Every last drop, darlin'."

there is no tag list because I DON'T EVEN REALLY REMEMBER THE LAST TIME I POSTED FIC. also real talk if this doesn't go into the tags watch me delete this and repost it.

[christronomy]

the angel's wings flutter slightly as shivers go down his spine, and he let's out a shaky breath. "we shouldn't be doing this..." is what he was about to say, but his breath hitches in his throat when you lean in to kiss his neck, the light pressure of your soft lips against his skin making him bite his lip and lean his head back subconsciously, providing some more room for you to kiss. his skin wasn't like a human's, in the sense that it was extremely clear, almost textureless, like porcelain, and soft like silk. it was also extremely warm and radiant, like he had been doused in a pool of light.

you'd always wondered what it would be like to touch him like this for as long as you can remember, and even now that you're finally doing it, it feels completely unreal. it doesn't feel wrong in this moment, but it also doesn't feel like it should even be possible to begin with. how someone like you, ended up with your hands on an angel—a holy entity, of all things... the odds really were in your favor. if this was a dream, you really didn't want to wake up.

he wasn't even trying to stop you as your hands trailed over his clothed body aimlessly, feeling the firmness in the muscles on his arms, on his abdomen, his thighs... even through the thick fabric of his tunic, you could tell his body was very well toned, and it made you ache for him even more.

you let your hands roave his body, pressing soft kisses against his collarbone until you reached his lips, perfectly plump and soft, like a cloud. like he was made of pieces of heaven. his tongue was already prodding at yours, wanting to taste you, and the more you touched and kissed him, the more he wanted. it was extremely dangerous for a being like him to do something like this, but it's you, and he's already so deeply in love... so maybe it's okay just this once, right?

he's so caught up his thoughts that he suddenly flinches, almost pulling away from you completely when he feels your hands trail up his back and touch the base of his wings.

hyunjin's wings are extremely sensitive to human touch, and you'd completely forgotten how much of a huge pet peeve it is for him when people attempted to touch them without his permission. you learned this in one of your earliest encounters, when he snuck into your room in the middle of the night again, the sound of the window opening startling you awake. it was the first night you realized his visits would become more frequent.

"jinnie?" you whine groggily, to which he lets out a soft chuckle as he sits on the edge of your bed, folding his large wings behind his back. your room always seemed a little brighter when he was in it, it's like he has a natural glow to his pretty pale skin. "hey you," he says softly, pinching your cheek affectionately when you scoot up to sit next to him.

"what brings you here at this time?" you ask, and he shrugs, smiling at you, his feathers fluttering a little as he does so. "it's just been a while," he says simply, leaning his head on your shoulder and unfolding one of his wings, wrapping it around you. it was a habit he'd picked up not too long after he met you, which was surprising to him, considering the fact that he never really liked physical touch all too much. being an angel who's job was to interact with humans eventually made you hate being touched, since for some reason humans always got handsy during encounters.

"it has..." you say, yawning a little as you lean into him, absentmindedly moving your hand up to play with his hair. the way it looks like it's made of pure gold has always intrigued you, and he secretly liked it when you ran your fingers through it for the first time, although it kind of annoyed him at first, since you did it without asking. but he understood that it was because you were curious. he'll only allow it if it's you, and you know that now, because he didn't pull away or jolt at your touch this time around.

but his wings were a different story. you'd noticed a stray feather that was clinging onto the wing he had draped over your shoulders, and didn't think about it before you reached out to brush it off, a soft gasp escaping your lips when he suddenly yanked it away from you, grumbling a harsh "don't...!"

you'd apologized and he was okay with it, but he was hesitant to even unfold his wings around you after that night. he recalled how scared you looked at first to even touch him after the way he'd chastised you so harshly for doing so, and he felt horrible for it, but now that this newfound desire between the two of you was rising a little more with every passing moment, the way you were kissing him made him feel things in his body he'd never felt before, and that meant that touching his wings made that feeling ten times harder to manage.

but now, he realized this time he didn't almost pull away because the sensation bothered him, it was because these new things he was feeling made them so sensitive to the touch, he almost let out a soft moan when your hand caressed his feathers. you opted for keeping your hand on the small of his back for now, your other hand trailing down to feel his thighs, tentatively inching upwards, and you let out a soft, shaky breath when you feel the bulge under the thick frabric of his tunic.

the way hyunjin is looking at you now is so full of danger. you're not even sure if this is right or wrong. your mind is too clouded from this intense desire you're experiencing to even think straight, but he hasn't stopped you, and you're too far into this to even want turn back now, but by the way he's looking at you, you can tell that he doesn't want you to either. it's almost as if he can feel the divine essence draining away from his body, being consumed by lust, dimming the light in his eyes but he can't resist you.

before he can even process what's really happening, he's got you pinned to your bed, one hand pressing against your lower abdomen, the other gripping your thigh tightly as his tongue teases you relentlessly, skillfully. it's as though he's done this before, like he already knows your body to a T. your moans are like music to his ears, and he knows what real music sounds like. he's an angel, for fucks sake—he knows what a real choir of angels singing sounds like, and it's nothing like anything in this world. but even then, your moans, the way his name drips off of your lips, sweet as honey, sounds so much better. the way you're tugging at his golden locks, pulling him impossibly closer is so much better than he could have imagined.

now he's inside of you, after having made you come on his tongue twice, and you're so sensitive you can't help the way your walls tremble and clench around him when he finally bottoms out. you feel divine. he's not sure if he'll ever be able to recover from this, although he knows he's too far gone now. his creator is surely not going to be happy when he confesses, although a certain part of him wonders if he'll have at least a little bit of mercy. love is a dangerous thing when there's too much of it, but love is also what makes up the very essense of him. surely the Creator should understand that, right?

you on the other hand, still can't believe this is even real, it's like you're living a dream within a dream. you can't help the way your hands instinctively move to touch the base of his wings when he gives you that first thrust, his cock kissing that gummy spot inside of you immediately. the sensation of your hands caressing the most sensitive part of him paired with your warmth gripping him so tightly have his head swimming in pleasure, and he can't help the sharp hiss that escapes him. he has to come inside you, claim you as his own, even if it costs him his entire existence.

"hey, jinnie... i'm curious. is being in heaven better than being here, on earth?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper as you cuddle closer to him, nuzzling your cheek against his bare chest. he nods, even though you can't really see his face. "i guess i can say it is better, in a way, because we're limitless up there. there's no pain or sickness... but if i had to choose, i'd say that this, being here with you..." he starts, staring up at the ceiling as he trails off, his fingers playing with your hair absentmindedly. some part of him is begging his god, his creator for mercy, forgiveness, and the other part of him could really give less of a fuck. you're the love of his life, but also the very thing that is going to make him lose everything, and probably end up turning him into something ugly. a monster... a demon. the very thing he'd feared his entire life. but he knows now that even if the whole world is against him, even if a god rejects him, you will still love him, regardless of what he becomes.

"this feels so much better. a thousand times better. everything is better with you, my muse."

[jadewritesficshere]

Cool Down

Steve Harrington x reader

Synopsis: Steve comes in after working outside in the heat and you help him "cool off"

Contains: oral (m receiving), ice play, slightly sub!Steve

18+only

Steve comes in the kitchen after mowing the lawn in the summer. "It's a scorcher out there," He mumbles. He's sweating bullets, chest heaving from breathing. He grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it up to his brow, his stomach and happy trail on display for you.

You are distracted at the sight for a moment before getting a pitcher out of the fridge. You pour a glass of lemonade and hand it to him. Steve thanks you with a wide smile, brisk kiss to your forehead. "I'm gonna cool down for a minute," He points his thumb over his shoulder towards the living room," But then I'll come in here and help finish dinner."

Which, is so sweet of him. He made the lemonade this morning, mowed the lawn, and was offering to help cook dinner on the night that was your designated night to cook, not his. You can't help but admire his ass as he walks out of the room. Your mind is blazing with thoughts of showing him how much you love him and appreciate him. How you would use your mouth and kiss him. But he's too hot right now...

Steve's eyes are closed, head back against the couch. He can hear your footsteps come in the room. You setting a glass on the side table. He can feel you sit next to him, your body heat.

He can feel you kiss his neck, right at his pulse point. He smiles slightly, but God is it hot. He's about to move away when he feels your tongue dart against his neck. He gasps at the ice cold feeling.

Steve's eyes fly open and he looks at you. You pull back enough, open your mouth, and stick you tongue out slightly. Steve can see the ice cube melting on your tongue. You close your mouth, moving the ice cube around, before open mouth kissing Steve's neck again.

Steve groans as you swirl the ice cube against his neck. The melting ice dripping down his skin, the way you lightly suck against him. You pull back when the ice cube is melted, which doesn't take long as you had only half filled the cube tray to try and mimic crushed ice (it didn't work).

You grab the hem of his shirt and lift slightly. It takes Steve a second to catch on, but as soon as he does he is immediately peeling it off and tossing it somewhere to deal with later. You lick your lips as you stare at his torso, before placing another ice cube in your mouth.

You kiss him, which Steve tries to deepen- he wants to steal the ice from your mouth and push it back in- but you pull away. Steve would pout except you're kissing and licking his chest. You spend extra time at his nipples, which harden when the ice comes in contact with them.

You continue your descent, replacing the ice cubes as they melt. The combination of heat and cold is tantalizing. Steve gasps and moans, trying not to writhe beneath you. When you reach his shorts, you glance up at him. Your gaze makes him feel like he's burning alive. "Please," he whispers, voice strained.

You grin as you peel down his shorts, Steve lifting his hips to help. His dick immediately springs up from being released from the fabric holding it back. He's thick and curved slightly to the left. A few freckles on the underside along with a prominent vein. He's flushed a deep red, the tip turning almost purple.

"Hot here too?" You ask, popping an ice cube into your mouth to let it melt slightly. Steve nods his head rapidly," Uh-huh so hot." You grin as you get off the couch onto your knees in front of him. "Wait-" Steve reaches over and grabs a throw pillow, handing it to you," your knees." God he really is the sweetest. You wonder how sweet he would be if you made him beg for it.

But now isn't the time for that. You slide the pillow under you, grinning up at him. Steve swallow thickly, eyes filled with lust as he gazes at you. You lean forward and lightly lick the tip.

Steve gasps, hands clutching the couch cushions. You wrap your lips around the tip, swirling your tongue and the almost melted ice around him. Steve throws his head back with a groan, fingers flexing. You can feel him twitch in your mouth, a spurt of pre coming out.

You lick the pre from his slit, careful to watch him. You don't want to push from pleasure to pain at this moment. You want Steve to enjoy it.

Which he is. You can tell by the way his breaths quicken and his face flushes. The way his mouth drops open, little gasps and moans and groans escaping. You slide your tongue around him, taking a little bit more in your mouth. You want to say you can take him all, but he's so big. You have to practice more because of your gag reflex, but you don't think Steve will mind the practice.

"I'm not," Steve breathes heavily," nng not gonna last-" Steve cuts off with a sharp gasp as you suck. His hand darts out and settles on the top of your head. He isn't trying to push you further on him, just keeping his hand touching you in some way.

"Fuck I'm close. I'm gonna come in your mouth unless you pull off," Steve opens his eyes to look down at you. You smile the best you can around him and wink. "Fuck," Steve whimpers. You don't have much more warning before his thighs tense and abdomen flexes. Warm spurts of come hit the back of your throat and you swallow quickly.

His face is a site to behold. The slight scrunch of his eyebrows, his mouth wide open in an 'o', face flushed. You swallow all he gives you. When he's done, you carefully lick him off to ensure not an ounce is left behind.

You let him slide out of our mouth, gently kissing his thigh. You lay your head against his thigh, smiling up at him. Steve's eyelids flutter as he opens them, gazing down at you. A dopey grin spreads across his face," I love you." You giggle lightly," I love you too." Steve nods before licking his lips," Can I uh return the favor?"

As if you have to think about it.

[supernovafics]

you and steve hate each other but... maybe not anymore?

wc: 588

a/n: i was working on this and then stopped and then finally got around to finishing it<333 this is basically a third part to two other blurb-ish things i wrote (first thing / second thing)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

there was somewhat of a shift that happened after the night you went over to steve’s house when he was sick. neither you nor he spoke about this shift— for some reason, it didn’t feel right to— but it still felt completely obvious. 

when he went back to work a few days after that night, finally returned to full-ish health, you decided against making some teasing jab about how he still looked pretty bad, even though it was on the tip of your tongue. and he didn’t dryly say, “glad to see you didn’t burn the place down while i was gone,” with a harsh roll of his eyes.  

both of those things should’ve happened. it always made more sense to make fun of one another than to do anything else; it was all a part of the animosity-filled dynamic you two shared. however, on that afternoon, you both said simple “hi’s” and “hello’s” and that was that. 

you two definitely weren’t friends, but you could admit (only to yourself, definitely not to him) that you didn’t dislike him as much as you once did. for the first time probably ever, things were actually civil between you two, and it didn’t feel like they were being forced to be that way. 

an unspoken truce was agreed upon and it stayed that way for the final week and a half you were covering for robin while she was out of town. 

and then the last day rolled around. 

a comfortable silence lingered throughout most of that day. customers coming in and out and you and steve alternating helping each person. there was even a moment when he made a joke that you found yourself laughing at before you could tell yourself not to. 

“robin’s back tomorrow, so today’s my last day,” you randomly decided to remind him at one point toward the end of the shift. “actually, i don’t know why i’m saying that when you’ve definitely been counting down the days until i’m out of here.” 

you expected him to agree with your words, but he didn’t; at least not outwardly. 

“i’m sure keith would give you a job if you wanted it,” steve said. “i’m pretty sure he likes you.” 

you outwardly cringed. “ugh, don’t say that.” 

it was quiet for a second. you both continued stocking the recently returned tapes on the cart behind the counter since the store was empty and there was nothing else to do. 

“so…” you started and then trailed off, suddenly feeling nervous, even though you had never felt that way around steve. “um, you would actually want me to work here? with you?” you quickly tried to correct yourself. “you and robin.”

he was quiet for a few moments and then simply shrugged. “robin would definitely love it.” he finished stocking the last tape in his hand before looking at you. “and i wouldn’t mind it.”

that said more than enough to you. 

“okay,” you gave him a small nod, pretending as if you were entirely unaffected by his civility and this niceness that had never been directed toward you; which, rightfully so, because you were never nice to him either. until now. “i’ll think about it.” 

you didn’t hate him, you realized later when you were back home and robin was calling to tell you about her trip and also ask you how it was working with steve for the past month. and you also realized that maybe you never really did hate him in the first place.

[maenjiro]

nsfw alphabet hiromi higuruma 𖦹

ft. higuruma (fem!reader mentioned)

a/n: writing this to try and get back on track, and this is my go to apparently. + this is actually a lil something for a dear friend whom i hope will enjoy this.

cw: i dont really know how to cw this, it's the nsfw alphabet it gets filthy...

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex) he's not the best at aftercare but he does his best to make sure you're okay and also provide anything you might need, he would tell you to go to the bathroom and when you get back to bed he is there ready with a glass of water for you, while you drink it he would stroke your hair and nod when you're done. other than this he would just stay in bed with you, his arm around your body to keep you close to him, brushing his thumb against your skin while humming and i'm 100% sure that would lead to him rambling about something deep (but you fall asleep and he smiles to himself)

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) as for his partner he deeply adores her belly. he's so big on worshipping his s/o and would spend so much time caressing and kissing the skin there. as for himself he doesn't really have a "favorite" body part, he might even be a little self conscious about himself but if he were to choose he would likely say his hands just because he so big on touch and the sensory stimuli it gives him

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically) quantity wise i would say it's decent, enjoyable if you will not as thick tho. likes to cum inside you (ofc he only does it when you give him the green light)

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) he's SERIOUS he so focused he looks mad (your worried face would serve him as a reminder to stop frowning)

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) i see it as pretty messy but he trims down every once in a while, overall he's pretty much clean tho

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) he doesn't come out as the most romantic man but that's because he's very FOCUSED on what he's doing and how he moves his hips against you, prob would keep asking if you're okay and if you like it. also he would subtly hug you tight when you climax to feel your soft skin against his body because at the end of the day he's a simp and he's in love with you and loves how intimate everything feels.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon) after a long day at work putting up with all the difficult clients and all the bureaucratic mess he has to read and prepare for trials he REALLY needs to rub one out. we all know he loves a good old bath to relax and that's when he takes care of his needs, edging himself and everything. fulfilling his pathetic man fantasies thinking about a special someone.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks) to be pretty much honest i think he's into roleplay esp if it plays on the hunter/prey dynamic as well.

l = location (favorite places to do the do) he's a man of habit and above all a man of comfort so the bed does it for him. bed ≠ boring positions

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) to be quite frank just you. the way you tease him, your innocent eyes asking him to do things to you is the quickest way to get you on/under him

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) he's very protective of you so he doesn't like the idea of anything noncon (might be open to try some con-noncon stuff when he learns about it and how well it ties with roleplay). he also doesn't likes quickies, too fast and messy.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) both giving and receiving. he enjoys receiving when he needs to relax and decompress but he likes to indulge in giving as well and he's pretty much selfless when he does that. eats you out with great passion and his nose might or might not poke your clit

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) he's more on the slow side. he's very very slow actually. doesn't even do it on purpose but the way he ends up teasing you is almost a torture.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) as i said before he doesn't like quickies at all. he likes to be properly prepared and taking things slow. would rather use his fingers on you to give you a quick one or have your hands around him to finish fast.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) not much into risk if we are talking about risky place but he's open to try some of your fantasies or kinks if you properly ask him esp if he's in a committed relationship

u = unfair (how much they like to tease) truth is he likes it better when you tease him but if you're in bed and he is on top of you he wouldn't pass the occasion to tease. but really, he can't deny he enjoys when you beg for him desperate to feel him he can be a desperate mess as well + he inadvertently teases you with his slow pace.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) low and heavy pants, trying to be more vocal knowing you like it

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character) at times when he ends up working overtime he jacks off under his desk.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) slightly more thick thank average. he's a grower lol when fully erect he's approximately 16 cm (6.2 in ??) pretty and dark tip

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?) tends to be higher when he's in a relationship and when he's highly stressed from work

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) sometimes he falls asleep on the spot some other times he basically lull you to sleep with his voice.

[misc-obeyme]

I tried to resist. (I didn't try at all.)

Instead I got carried away and wrote this.

*drops the Satan cat collar smut and runs*

(Special thanks to everyone who gave me some input on this idea. I'm still rusty with writing at the moment, so I apologize if it's terrible. I'm considering writing an alternate version involving some pegging... so let me know if you wanna see that lol.)

Okay, you can read the alternate version here.

GN!MC x Satan

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: soft dom!MC, cat collar with bell and cat ears, praising, use of Tantan as a nickname (because I love it lol), lil bit of biting, penetration (reader receiving), please let me know if I've forgotten something

It might be difficult to tell from an outside perspective, but you knew that Satan was soft for you. The way he trusted you entirely with his feelings, even his anger, let you know that he was perhaps more comfortable with you than anyone else.

So it wasn't entirely a surprise when you started to pick up on some little hints of something he didn't seem to have worked up the courage to ask you directly.

You weren't sure what was happening right away. It started one day when he showed you a collection of cat collars that were for sale online. He scrolled through the pictures on his phone, finally stopping on one with a little bell.

"This one is especially cute, don't you think?" he asked.

You smiled indulgently. "Yeah it is. Are you going to get it for one of the strays in the garden?"

Satan blinked as if he was surprised by this suggestion. He looked at you and the confusion in his eyes was clear. Then you watched as a deep blush spread across his face. "R-right," he said. "Yes."

He immediately changed the subject, but you couldn't stop thinking about his reaction. Like maybe the two of you had been talking about different things.

You puzzled over this for a little while, a suspicion starting to form in the back of your mind.

Confirmation came in the form of a cosplay catalog that Levi left in the common room. The cover featured an anime character wearing cat ears and a collar.

Satan picked up the catalog and you could tell that he had known it was there. "Levi must have left this here," he said. He showed it to you. "Wh-what do you think?"

You looked at the cover. "Hmm," you said. "I like the cat ears. The collar should have a bell, though."

You watched in satisfaction as Satan's face flushed so hard and fast you thought steam might come out of his ears.

After that, you knew what you had to do.

You were careful about your purchase. You made sure it was obtained discreetly.

The collar itself was thick and black with a large silver buckle and a round silver bell. You had chosen black cat ears to match. You left them on Satan's bed with a note that said, Is this what you had in mind? MC.

And then you waited.

The next time you saw Satan was at breakfast. He sat across the table from you and met your eyes directly. He held your gaze for a moment too long before looking away. Nobody else seemed to notice and he acted completely normal the rest of the day.

You had no other indication of his reaction to your gift. For days, you waited for him to do something or say something. Was he upset? He wasn't acting angry.

And then one day you walked into your room and nearly died on the spot. As soon as you recovered, you closed the door and made sure it was locked. And that's when you remembered that everyone else was out of the house today. Was that what Satan had been waiting for?

You turned back to your bed to take in the sight of him.

There he sat, on his knees, with his hands pressed onto the bed between them. The collar was clasped perfectly around his neck, the bell and buckle shining. The cat ears were nestled in his hair, their black tufts a nice contrast to his bright blond. He was frowning, his eyes were closed, his face flushed, and he wore absolutely nothing else.

You slowly approached him, watching him as he stayed still. When you got to the edge of the bed, you stopped. You cupped his cheek, tilting his head to look up at you, even though his eyes stayed closed.

"Look at you," you said softly. "What a beautiful boy you are."

Satan's blush deepened, but he opened his eyes. You saw desire and pleasure and nervousness and embarrassment tumbling through the shades of green.

You brought up your other hand and held his face. "Don't be embarrassed. You look amazing."

The frown eased just a little. "I didn't think you would actually want to do this."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why would you think that?"

Satan looked away from you. "It doesn't… make you uncomfortable?"

You rested your hands on his shoulders and kissed his forehead. "No. It makes me horny as fuck. And I can see what it's doing to you, too."

You looked down deliberately where Satan's cock had been steadily growing as soon as you got close.

Satan buried his face in his hands, causing the bell around his neck to jingle slightly.

"No, no, no," you said softly, pulling his hands away. He opened his mouth like he was going to protest, but you cut him off with a kiss.

Satan responded to you instantly, opening his mouth for you. As your tongues entwined, you let go of one of his wrists to reach up and grab the collar. You used it to pull his head back, giving you easier access to his mouth as his hand now tugged on the edge of your shirt.

You pulled away to kiss the wrist of the hand you still held, trailing your lips down his arm and up his shoulder. He was breathing heavily as you traced your tongue along the edge of skin where the collar stopped, ringing the bell playfully with your fingers.

Satan moaned, his tugs on your shirt feeble but persistent.

You gave in, moving away from him to remove the shirt quickly, along with all the rest of your clothes. He waited patiently, mouth open, skin flushed, cock straining.

You sat beside him on the bed, putting two fingers beneath the collar to pull him toward you. He moved easily with your guidance, the bell tinkling ever so softly as you caught his swollen lips with yours again.

You ran a teasing finger along the shaft of his cock and it came away covered in pre-cum. Satan whined against your lips and the sound of it sent a shiver through your body.

You pulled away just a little bit. "Use your words, Tantan. Or would you rather meow for me?"

Satan shuddered and the bell tinkled. "Please, MC," he said, his voice low and gruff. It seemed he wasn't quite comfortable enough to meow and his eyes were closed again, his face turned slightly away.

"Look at me," you said.

Obediently, Satan opened his eyes and looked at you. He might have been frowning if he wasn't so overcome with lust in that moment. You took in the darkness of his eyes, the heat clearly visible on his skin, the expression that vacillated between need and embarrassment.

You realized you could tease him for hours if you really wanted to. You also knew that he would let you. Something about the way he was looking at you let you know that he was trusting you entirely. That he was putting himself in your hands, letting you do whatever you wanted to with him.

Certainly, part of this had been previously discussed. The two of you had an established routine, after all. But he was entrusting you with more than he normally did and you recognized that extra vulnerability.

The light of your room hit the silver of the bell around his neck. You took in the collar, the ears. Maybe next time, you could get him to meow for you.

For now, though, you wanted nothing more than to hear that bell chime with every thrust.

You leaned forward, running your fingertips down his cheek. "You're such a good boy," you said, loving the way he seemed to melt whenever you praised him.

You took hold of his collar again, this time pulling him with you as you lay back on your bed. You had considered other positions, but you wanted to see that bell as it sounded through the room.

Satan moved where you guided him, but when you let go of the collar, he no longer waited for your direction. He put his lips on your neck, his hands on your hips, and you could feel the tip of his cock pressing gently against you.

Satan hesitated, pulling up to look into your eyes. It was as though he caught himself being too eager and now he needed your confirmation.

You smirked. "Go ahead. You've earned it."

Satan didn't wait for anything else and he sank his cock into your heat. You arched as sensation filled you, your eyes fixed on the brightness of the bell around his neck.

To your great satisfaction, that bell did indeed jingle with every thrust, louder than it had from anything else. The sound mingled with your own moans as you gripped Satan's arms. He was rumbling deeply, seemingly okay with purring if not meowing.

Satan didn't seem to notice anything other than what he was feeling inside you, but he couldn't hold back from nipping at your skin. You gasped every time his teeth pierced you, a little zing of pain to go with your overwhelming pleasure.

"S-Satan," you moaned out, feeling yourself getting close, the tension rising.

Satan seemed to understand what you needed. He reached between your bodies so he could stimulate you further with his hand. You gasped and your hips rose up into him.

You reached up to grab the collar, wanting to hold onto it as your entire body tensed hard, the brightness shattering behind your eyes as you cried out Satan's name, the bell continuing to tinkle merrily through it all.

Satan strained hard against the collar, but you still had it in your grip. You felt the warmth of his cum filling you and your fingers slipped away as you collapsed back against the bed.

Satan looked at you, a question in his eyes. The cat ears were still on his head, but they were askew, poking oddly out of his blond hair.

You reached up to fix them. "Promise me you'll wear these again."

Satan let out a huff, frowning. "I couldn't refuse you even if I wanted to."

You smirked. "Good thing you don't want to, then."

Perhaps next time, you would bring a little leash, too. You were curious about how he would react to such an addition. Although he seemed unlikely to do this again when his brothers were around, so you might have to wait. You caught yourself kind of hoping one of his brothers would come home just to hear the consistent jingling of the bell on Satan's cat collar.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[grazi-your-rockette-queen]

um um um i’ve been thinking about duff

i’ve been thinking about calling duff daddy sometimes too

so uh

All This & More- Duff McKagan

you let out continuous small whines as duff’s mouth trailed down your body, eyes shut with a smile on your face as you bit your lip.

“hey baby… how’s my favorite girl?”

he’d came home late, per the usual. you’d got a feeling earlier that tonight was a night for you to stay awake for him, though you were usually asleep by the time he crawled into bed next to you, tonight there had been something to wait for. and as soon as he walked in the doorway of your bedroom, you knew exactly why you knew to stay awake.

he was all over you as soon as he got in bed, deep kisses, soft kisses, hands all over. it was exciting, as most days recently there hadn’t been as much time set aside for you and duff to enjoy each other as the both of you had wished. he had a busy schedule, spending most days in the studio and not coming home until late. aside from weekends, you didn’t get much time alone with him, and he was aware of it. so tonight he was going to make it up to you.

“baby… what are you wearing?”

he pulled away the sheets, allowing him to clearly see in dim lamplight your prettiest lingerie peek underneath one of his tshirts. he ran his fingers up and down both your thighs, slowly lifting up the tshirt to pull it over your head, which you helped with.

“oh, have you been waiting for me?”

he asked, chuckling a little. his focus remained on your exposed body, tracing the lingerie with his fingers and giving you shivers. a bashful smile showed up on your face with a dusty blush and a small nod. duff hummed in response, his eyes now glancing up to meet yours.

“am i gonna make my princess gonna feel good?”

he used one hand to lift your chin so you’d look at him. you nodded with eagerness and need.

“yes, you always do” you acknowledged in a voice that mellowed your neediness, “i need it, please?”

duff smiled down at you, giving you a few more kisses on your neck and face before moving to take off his jeans and shirt, which were left in a pile with the shirt of his you were previously wearing. he crawled his way back up to you, much closer this time, and started to bite and suck on your neck and down your cleavage that was put on good display for him thanks to the choice lacy bra that you wore. one of his hands ran up your back and stopped at the clasp of the your bra, while the other sank down towards your matching panties. his rough fingers traced the hem, and grazed over the soft skin of your plush inner thighs as a wetness formed between them. you let out slightly louder moans and squirmed a little bit more, indicating that you were not up for so much teasing, and you needed relief sooner than later. duff got the message, and hooked fingers on both sides of your hips around the hem of your panties to delicately drag them down your legs after unclasping your bra and discarding it on the floor. he placed a soft kiss above your core, making you squeak.

“so pretty, all for me.” your breathing picked up at the feeling of his hot breath so close to where you needed him to be. suddenly, you felt him place two fingers over your cunt, swiping them slowly through your folds to pick up wetness that had pooled from your hole. you whimpered at his touch, and he groaned quietly at the taste of you on his fingers.

“so wet for me, sweet girl, aren’t you?”

“duffy, please, i want you?” you begged sweetly, repeating your request of him whenever he asked you to speak up or repeat something.

“you wanna cum on my cock? yeah? well, if that’s what my little princess wants…” he assured you, giving you another little kiss on your nose while he pulled his dick out from his boxers. you blushed heavily and looked down, away from his face as though he wouldn’t notice you being shy.

“don’t be shy, baby, is this what you want?” he asked genuinely, yet still keeping up with the especially dominant energy he’d came home with. you breathed out a ‘yes’ and looked back into his loving gaze. he nodded and held the back of your head with one of his large hands, while the other he used to position himself with your damp hole and softly rub circles on your clit as he pushed in, causing you to moan louder than before. he kept slowly pushing himself deeper into you, trying to be as gentle as he could while groaning and praising you.

“oh baby, this pussy’s so tight for me, yeah?” his eyes shut to the sounds you made in response to his movements. once he bottomed out, he let out another sigh and checked in with you,

“okay, princess?” he didn’t stop rubbing your swelling clit in hopes it would help you ease onto his length.

“y-yes, duffy.” you whimpered, walls already tightening around him and silently begging for him to move.

“good girl.” his eyes already squeezing shut as he started slowly moving, thrusting into you slowly, but with force that made your brain melt. your mouth gaped open while he picked up his pace and kissed and bit at your neck, now leaving dark red marks. you moaned out his name, but couldn’t manage to speak aside from that, so he moved to kiss your lips, a mess with desire and lust overtaking him.

“can you touch here for me, baby?” he asked, moving your hand to your clit where he’d kept two fingers. you obeyed, gasping while your moans started to become higher in pitch.

“daddy… i’m gonna cum for you…” you moaned, words drawn out shakily. he started breathing heavily with you.

“mhh, yes, that’s my good girl.” he kissed you, now just as desprate as you. “cum for me, pretty baby, you can do it.” he encouraged, the sound of his voice driving you closer to your orgasm.

“mh! ahh, yes daddy!” you screamed, your high hitting you without warning. your back arched off the bed while duff continued to pound into the same spot deep inside you that was making you see white. as your orgasm subsided, he groaned and let his eyes roll back while your walls fluttered and squeezed around him desperately.

“fuck, honey, daddy’s gonna cum in you. such a good girl.” he kept kissing your neck and chest, while you started to whimper and squeal from the overstimulation. he let out a loud moan before letting his thick seed fill your tight cunt, spilling out and making a mess in between your legs.

“oh, baby…” he sighed heavily, pulling out while you whimpered shakily, your eyes still shut and breath heavy as well. “are you alright, baby?” he instantly swiped stray strands of hair from your forehead, petting you hair as he held you up in his arms. you rested your cheek on his shoulder as your breath finally steadied.

“im okay, daddy.” you breathed, barely conscious and very exhausted. he rubbed your back softly while you melted onto him.

“you did so well, baby. did that feel good?”

“yes, thank you duffy.” you kissed him on the cheek and smiled, eyes still half closed. he kept you close to him, but decided to get up and get you water and a little snack so you wouldn’t pass out.

“i’m alright, duff, i’m not gonna pass out!” you giggled at him and his protectiveness. he made you drink some water before cleaning you up with a warm washcloth he’d brought along from the bathroom.

“i just need to make sure, it’s what any good boyfriend would do. i need to make sure i’m taking good care of you.” he patted your thigh softly. “you feel loved?”

“of course, silly.” you smiled and placed your hand on his cheek, kissing him softly.

“good. i love you so, so much, y/n. i’m sorry i don’t get to see you every night and-” he started to apologize.

“it’s okay, duffy, i understand.” you smiled at him again, sincerely. “and i know how much you love me.”

“and that’s why i wish i could make you feel good so much. all the time, actually.” he got back into the bed after turning off the lights.

“i wish i could be with you all the time, too.” you moved close to him as he wrapped you in his arms and you cuddled into his chest. “tonight was perfect.”

“you deserve it, sweetheart.”

[mci-writing]

heyy~ may i habe, hcs nsfw of senku, tsukasa, and gen fucking their s/o in the kitchen? like senku you guys fucked up something and waiting on an order, tsukasa takes you while youre making breakfast or something, and gen uses cream from a pastry youre making to lick it off your body? thank you ily i hope i did this right lol.

This has been years in the making, huh?

Sexy Kitchen Times (w/ Senku Ishigami, Tsukasa Shishiou, and Gen Asagiri):

TW: smut, modern/no petrification/post petrification au, small bit of bondage in Gen's part (he ties reader's wrists to the bedpost), no beta whoops, overstim in Senku's part, Tsukasa fucks his s/o next to a still hot stove 🤷🏾‍♀️

Ishigami Senku:

You had tried warning him from the get-go that substituting the recipe's ingredients with chemicals from his lab would be a horrible idea (esp when he pulled his Bunsen Burner seemingly out of thin air), but nooo he wanted you to trust the science process bc he was more than 1 billion percent sure it would work

Now you were standing in the middle of a nearly destroyed kitchen while ordering from the noodle place down the block, sending your lover a glare he knows a little too well when science experiments that involve you go horribly wrong

He hugs you from behind after cleaning up most of the mess, burying his face in your neck as he pulls you closer to him

This was what your friends deemed the affection maneuver, a move Senku only makes when he knows he might be sleeping on the couch for the night

"Y'know, it's so sexy when you get mad like this, dragonfruit" He'll teasingly whisper along the shell of your ear, pressing soft kisses into your skin while his fingers rub sensual circles into your hips

And for the moment, you completely forget about the kitchen debacle when his lips meet yours, turning you in his hold and helping you settle on the counter. He tugs your top off between kisses, nipping at whatever skin he can reach while his one of his hands happily move to fondle your chest

And, like always, it ends with you riding his cock (bc his stamina maxed out smh), your hands gripping onto his thighs for dear life as his tip nudges at a certain sensitive spot while he times the delivery guy through calculating the speed of your rocking and the pitch of your moans, who is definitely 10 minutes late this time

Your brain is mush by the time the food does get there, Senku happily coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you with a sweet "Just one more? So I can make it up to you?". It's the closest he can get to you forgetting the whole conundrum and he gets to watch your face shift in overstimulated pleasure

He does still sleep on the couch later that night, but it's only for a couple minutes before you cave and make him eat you out as payback (which you both know is just going to lead to a round of competitive sex, but I'll mind my best)

Asagiri Gen:

You'd already had an idea this would happen when Gen kept making innuendos about the glaze you'd made for your donuts earlier in the day, but a part of you wasn't really taking his words seriously until he'd told you to wait on the bed

I mean, you couldn't really go anywhere with your wrists tied to the bedpost, but you could hear the small happy pep in his step as he made his way back to you with the icing bag nuzzled snuggly in his hold

"Baby, look what I've got," He eagerly coos as he towers over your body, setting his knee beside you as he slides in closer on the bed. He holds the tip over your lips, squeezing enough for a little bit of the sweet concoction to spill out.

After your tongue swipes the small bit away, he gets to work setting a small dollop on each of your sensitive parts, stopping to admire his work once he finishes

He ensures that you've been licked clean of any stick sweet residue by the time he's finished, keeping track that you're thoroughly prepped before nestling into your welcoming heat

And he happily covers certain areas of your body with the cream again before fully allowing himself to go to town, enjoying the way his cum mixes with the sugary substance on your skin

Shishio Tsukasa:

"Ts-Tsukasa..." You manage out in an airy tone, tightly gripping the counter as the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. The small sounds you make as he pushes the head all the way in only make him smirk

He leans forward as he pushes fully inside, taking the time to cut the stove off before his hand softly grips your hips and drags you back against him.

"You shouldn't have teased me so much," He softly states into your ear, tugging on the lower back tie of your apron so it hangs freely from your body by the tie around your neck. His right-hand moves to grab at the plush fat of your ass, a smack sounding as he brings his heavy palm down and squeezes as soon as he gets a good grip on it

He easily slides in and out from the perfect combination of spit and lube, the tight hold on your hip allowing him to push and pull against you as he pleases

Each spill of his name from your lips only encourages him to go faster, the breakfast you'd been hard at work creating forgotten with each deep thrust he made inside, stars clouding your mind

[faegoddessog]

Day 3: Nothing to see here

Warnings: Explicitly Mature content 18+ only, only a couple of things really. Butt what 'things' they are. If you don't like anal play (tongues, fingers and her special 'adornment') then this one probably isn't for you.

Here is my Master List which includes the og 72 hrs of Bliss that these two come from. Also here it is on AO3 if you like that better.

The other new installments for this series are listed here .

Enjoy!

A warm burst of sea air blows across their bodies as his Kitten looks up and away from him. She so fucking cute when she teases him like this.  How he landed such an amazing woman, an amazing partner, he’ll never know. 

“I love you so much,” his words so earnest.

“I know,” she quotes, jutting her chin out like she was about to be frozen in carbonite. 

“Come here you” Austin snatches her to him. All sullenness gone in a flurry of laughter and tickles. 

She thrashes in his arms, pushing at his chest and kicking her feet.

“STOP STOP STOP! PINEAPPLES!”

“What?!” he laughs incredulously, holding her close. 

“I don’t know, but it made you stop. I just about peed myself.” 

“That would have been awkward to explain to the hotel staff.” 

“Yeah, you’d have to be all, ‘nothing to see here folks, just made my wife pee cuz I had to service her before she got out of bed’,” she lowers her voice as much as possible. 

“Me? You’d be the one who’d have to call the front desk. ‘Um, Oui, I need a new set of sheets, I’ve soiled these therapy banging my stressed out husband, Merci’,” he uses his best falsetto voice and French accent.  Something obviously lifted from him in his confession to her, he was light again, like before.

”Actually, may I remind you that we are in France and those reasons would be completely acceptable to them,” she giggles. 

“Yeah, that’s true,” he leans over the side of the bed rummaging around in his bag. “Well, would this be acceptable to you?” He flourishes a sapphire jeweled butt plug. The one  with the words ‘my kitten’ engraved on it, the one that was his exact girth, the one that matched her wedding ring. In his other hand he had the box with matching necklace and earrings.“I’ve not seen you in these for a while.” 

“Seen me?” she smiles, teasing, “you just want to see me in them.” 

“Well, I’m betting that will lead to… other things, hopefully. But only if you are willing, my love.”

It had been a loooong time since they’d done any ass play. It always took extra time to prep, time that had been in short supply of late. The idea makes her pussy clench, forcibly reminding her that she hadn’t yet voided her bladder. 

“For you? Always,” those particular words such deep lore for them. She leans forward towards him, “but I really am gonna wet myself, and not in the sexy way.” 

“Well go pee then woman,” he rubs his nose against hers. 

“I’m gonna shower and get this tush ready. Order some breakfast too, I’m getting hungry,” she says untangling herself from his limbs. She rummages around in her bag and grabs her special little black bag for cleaning herself out. 

She steps out from the bathroom 25 minutes later, wrapped in a short white silk bathrobe, clean inside and out. 

“D'accord Merci,” he was just hanging up the phone. “It’ll be here in like 45 minutes at least I think that’s what they said.” Austin had been learning French in his nonexistent spare time. He was still ‘comme un enfant’ he would say, but he was trying. 

“I’ll be five minutes, baby” he jumps up and kisses her cheek, “then I want to get that in you, before breakfast comes,” he nods to the side table where his first gift to her sits. 

She opened the balcony doors all the way, breathing in the fresh sea air. By the time they were done today, they would  need that fresh change of sheets. She  put the necklace on, the earrings were still in the box. She plopped down on the bed on her stomach tucking a pillow under her hips and checking her phone.  

Before the five minutes are up, she hears an appreciative ‘mmmm’ and feels his hand on her calf. She can smell the french milled soap on his skin.

“Look at you Kitten, so enticing, ass just peeking out from under that robe,” he trails his hand up her leg.

“Am I” she turns her head to look at him with feigned innocence. 

“Oh hoh, don’t give me that, I know how you are, my little sexy demon,” his voice is low and steamy.

Don’t you know it! She pipes up, that succubus in her head. Didja miss me sugar?  

Kitten smiles at her inner sex voice. Oh hell yes. 

The mattress dips under his weight behind her. “What’s that smile for Kitten?” He slips his hand under the hem of the robe, exposing her ass fully. 

“You, always for you.” 

Both his hands knead her ass cheeks as he kneels on either side of her legs. Her little rosette winking at him as he did. He’d not been an ass man before. But ever since she surprised him climbing down from the rooftop garden with no undies under that flowy dress and just a silvery glint of a plug in her hole, ever since she had fingered his in the shower, making him cum so intensely, ever since those first 72 hours, he had no choice. He was an ass man now with no regrets. The memories themselves would make his cock start to spring to life. Let alone the fact that she was propped up before him like a offering on her own personal altar. 

“I want you to know,”he says, leaning down, kissing her butt cheek, only just restraining himself from biting it, “before I worship this gorgeous ass,” another kiss, “that I feel lucky as hell to have helped you in that elevator.” 

“Mmm baby, you are so sweet. I’m glad you accepted my invitation to dinner that night.” Her hips lift invitingly. “Now fucking defile me, Mon Roi.” 

He pulls her cheeks apart like peeling apart two halves of a peach and without preamble, dives his tongue onto her clean pucker. It’s been months, he had forgotten just how delicious her ass was and how naughty the forbidden fruit made him feel.He undulates his tongue against her hole, feeling the little ridges there. He grasps the globes of her ass in big juicy handfuls. He wonders, not for the first time,  what it took to make it so clean and if he did the same would she agree to rim him. 

God it felt so good, The prep and squeaky clean scrub she gave herself made her more than willing. She wanted it bad. The thousands of nerve endings fire to the center of her as he snuggled his tongue against her asshole. Just the thought of him playing there already had her wet with anticipation. 

His long tongue reaches farther under her, just the tip catching a taste of her sweet juices. He nearly goes feral, growling against her skin. He wants more and he wants it now. His thumbs twisting to the front of her hips to tilt them that much more. He laps voraciously at her pussy and ass together.  He wants her as needy and dripping as he is right now. With his face wedged into her crevice, he tongue fucks her pussy as best he can.

Her hands fist into the sheets as she moans in sensations she had forgotten about. God she loves this. God she loves him.

He pulls away from her and gracefully drops a long line of spit onto her crack. It’s not a crass hack and spit, but soft plop of his saliva right onto her naughty little kitten hole. He rubs it in with his thumb making her shiver in pleasure. His other hand slips back and forth against her wet lips as he gently presses  into her ass.  

He gently moves in and out. She is so tight right now, he’s afraid he might hurt her if he goes right to the plug. 

“Ready for me to open you up hunny?” his smooth, sexy voice pours over her ears with just a hint of that southern drawl she loves so much. Fuck all those internet and media trolls. Her baby was god among men.

“Oh fuck yes baby,” her moan partially caught by the sheets. “But please, more lube.”

“Alright,” he pulls his thumb out, “but I’m gonna need just a little more of this first,” he spreads her cheeks and takes just a minute to devour her once more. His hips can’t help but hump his leaking cock against the back of her calves as he licks her from clit to tail over and over. 

Her ass squirms agasint him, begging for more. 

“Oh lord Kitten, I forgot just how wet this makes you.” He finally pulls away, wiping her slick from his chin with the back of his hand.  

“What do you expect when you tongue me like that,” she pants out, looking over her shoulder with a sly grin. 

He purses his lips at her mimic of his first words of the day.

“On your knees Kitten,” his voice is suddenly insistent and powerful.

It makes her insides quiver. Here is her man, her Dom, her everything. She pushes back, ass in the air, exposed to his every whim.  A cool drip of lube hits her ass. 

“Gonna finger you open baby,” he announces as he pushes his middle finger into her. 

She bites her lip to hold in a little moan, knowing it only gets better from here. 

He slides in and out a little before adding his forefinger. She relaxes into it as he stretches her asshole with his two fingers.

“You like that huh. My fingers in your ass.”

“Uh huh,” is all she can get out, it feels exquisite.

He grazes her sopping labia with the pads of his other fingers. “Oh yeah you do. About to drip all over the bed.” He leans forward to bring his fingers to her mouth. “Here baby, clean those off for me.” 

She greedily sucks his fingers into her mouth, licking the taste of herself from them. He starts to slowly finger her ass. Her moan is loud, despite being stoppered by his fingers. 

“Oh that’s hot baby,” he moans, glutes tightening, pushing his cock against her leg again leaving little dots of thick precum. 

His fingers in both ends and his sexy as fuck voice both serve to ramp her up. Her hips start pulsing back and forth on his fingers. The back of her throat rife with sound.

He’s just in awe, brows furrowed and mouth open. An eager witness of the magic of her arousal. He’s gonna lose it.  He curbs his base instict to just plunge into her and fuck them both into oblivion. There is a mission here, he reminds himself,  and he’s nothing if not persistent when there’s an objective in front of him. 

“Ok baby, it’s time,” he withdraws his fingers from her mouth. Her tongue follows them, yearning. He slowly pulls his fingers from her ass. 

“Oh oh Oooooohhhhh,” she groans.  The withdrawal is always better, more sensitive, more arousing. 

“You alright my love?” 

She just nods, biting her lip, taking a big breath.

“Good, let’s up the ante then.” 

He picks up the plug. Memories of Brisbane flood his mind. He remembers the piano bar at the hotel where she sang, the business man that was watching her as he secretly ‘tortured’ her with the moxie vibe and this inside her.  He recalls how told her that he might share her some day. Now that she was his lock, stock and barrel, the idea of watching someone else give her pleasure intrigued him. They were going to have to revisit that, and sooner rather than later.

The cold metal of the large plug, her plug, the one that made her his, touches her sphincter. She inhales sharply before leaning into it.

He pushes slowly, watching her open for him. He lets her push it out before increasing the pressure, fucking her little by little. 

“Oh fuck, Can you… can you like angle it down a little more?” Her fingers are kneading the bed clothes, Kitten indeed. 

He does and the sound she makes parallels a purr.

“That better, Kitten?”

“Yeah,  oh god yeah,” she puffs out, rib cage expanding, “keep fucking me with it.”

He smiles to her back as he does. 

He was so good at going slow, and making sure she was ok. And when it was time, he was so good at dicking her down. The stretch started to burn at the edges as he worked the bulbous steel deeper and deeper into her. She wondered just how much more she had to go. It always made her a little nervous, taking his big circumference. 

You got this, you’ve taken it before. Remember how fucking good it feels? How you crave it afterwards?  Her inner demon speaks up. 

When his other hand grazes her pussy lips, her nerves vanish. The sensation of her asshole being stretched and fucked marries with his play at her nethers, washing her in pleasure. 

“Open for me Kitten, that’s it, good girl.” His words are a sexy, praise-ridden melody to her ears.

Finally he doesn’t stop to let her ass push it out. Oh lord she was spread so wide, so open. Was his own cock really this thick? Watching her take it was the dirtiest thing he’d seen in a while. His girl, his Kitten, his wife. So fucking hot, every  damn time. 

“Ohfuck ohfuck OH FUCK!” she yelped at the widest point. Then her ass is pulling it away from him, sucking it in. Her hips shudder. No she hadn’t cum or anything, but the relief was real. Until they pulled it out again. But she loved it, and with interest. He loved it too. Hammer a six inch spike through a board with his penis? Hell yeah he could, he was so damn hard.

“You took that so good Kitten, it being such a long time,” He kisses her cheeks once more, lovingly. 

She rolls her hips, feeling the weight of it inside her. When she sits up, she bounces on her knees, holding her tits. Her hand cups her vulva, rubbing little circles. Little purring chirps rumble in her upper chest. She feels as if she is just a bundle of erotic nerves. It feels so damn amazing to be so fucking turned on. 

He watches her touch herself, chest heaving in want. Good god why had they stopped doing this? He reaches out and drags his fingers down her back, planning on pulling her to him, to his lap. His mouth wants hers, wants her tongue against his. Wants, needs, must fucking have in order to survive.

Just then there is a knock at the door. 

“Bonjour, voici votre commande. Room Service!”

To be continued....

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