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joelsdagger · 6 months ago

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‘tis the season || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

nothing new. nothing exciting. just some pwp. major shout out to my very freaky girl @dinandwhiskey, this fic was born due to our 4am conversations about fucking Our Old Man on viagra. and to my fellow ocean unicorn @joeloverture, for the encouragement, always. and to @pedrospatch, for being my eyes, and my biggest cheerleader, you have my heart. anyway – merry christmas eve eve & happy holidays ya filthy animals. may 2025 be ever so kind to you <33

pairing: dbf!joel x reader summary: you’re back in town for christmas, and it’s been months since you’ve seen your boyfriend, joel miller. and he decides to make the most of the brief window of time you have together. or, joel fucks you after taking viagra. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ warnings: [no-outbreak au], implied age gap [no mention of ages but reader is in college], secret established long distance relationship [that’s a mouth full] [that’s what she said], drug use, joel miller on viagra is a beast, pet names [baby, darlin’, sweetheart, kiddo], sexualization of the terms kiddo & old man, [mocking] dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, daddy kink, brief mentions of smut that occurs off page [i.e: face-sitting, fingering, anal play, ass eating/rimming, a reach around handjob, f! & m! receiving oral], softdom!joel, unprotected piv, missionary, mating press, overstimulation [rip our girl she’s fighting for her life], dacryphilia, finger sucking, biting, smidge of a pain kink, creampie, squirting, joel fucks you while you’re on the phone with your father, mentions of christmas, (2) christmas puns [author apologizes in advance for said puns], probably [most likely] inaccurate and unrealistic descriptions to the effects of viagra [remember, this is fiction!!], omitting a few tags as to avoid spoilers!!, aaaaand lastly, they’re in love BYE! word count: 3.5k

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for notifs on when i post my writing!!

“Just one more time, sweetheart.”

You don’t respond, tongue-tied. The agonizingly slow drag of his cock inside you is too much, your mind is a blur.

Joel’s been fucking you for hours. He’s made you come six times since you practically pranced through his front door. Twice on his face, once on his fingers, and three times on his cock. And now you’re overstimulated — cunt swollen and almost begging for relief — but Joel, driven by your high-pitched moans and strained whimpers, is unable to stop himself, working to make you come just one more fucking time.

It’s thanks to that stupid little blue pill his buddy slipped him that he’d been able to fuck you for this long.

In truth, he doesn’t need it. He never needs it. He fucks you perfectly fine without it. But you’re home for the holidays, and you haven’t seen him or come successfully on your own since the beginning of the fall term, and Joel wanted to take advantage of that.

Send you back fucked so full o’me you’ll feel me in here for weeks, he’d groaned.

Your drippy hole stretched out and clamped tight around the thick girth of him. It had been so long, your face contorted at the sharp sting, and a pained hiss escaped through his gritted teeth when he pushed the delicious fat tip of his cock past your puffy folds, splitting you in two.

The warm walls of your cunt pulse around his shaft, your clit throbs against the wet thatch of thick hairs stippled gray at his base. You’re too sensitive, too tender, cunt stinging with every long stroke, but not in the way it makes you want to use your safe word.

It’s just that Joel hasn’t let up. Two hours spent making you come and he hasn’t let up once. The only time he had given you some semblance of a break was when he got up, turned around, and sat on your face at your plea — your desire to show him how good he had made you feel all those times before.

His cock in your hand, weak fist tugging away at his length while you lathed away at the tight little hole in the crease between his ass cheeks. Even then, Joel couldn't help himself; shoved three thick fingers into your puffy pussy — timing the thrust of them to the desperate pumps of your joint fists — jacking his cock in unison while you writhed beneath him, pulling another climax from you.

Only when his sweaty thighs quivered around your body, chin tilted towards the ceiling and a stream of profanities poured from his lips, his body curling over yours as hot spurts of his cum painted your soft tummy when he felt your finger slipping past his puckered rim to the knuckle, had he given you a break.

“Attagirl, just like that. Pretty little pussy’s gonna cum all over me. C’mon, baby, give it to me,” Joel’s voice is thick with arousal as he rambles above you, his hips expertly rolling into yours, head of his cock nudging that place incompetent college boys have failed to reach.

“Joel—fuck—I don’t think I can—” You gasp frantically, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, arms wound tight around him.

He smirks with another deliberate roll of his hips. “Thought you said you could keep up. Isn’t that what you said? “Naw, I reckon you said, Try keeping up, old man, wasn’t that it?” He mocks, imitating your words from earlier. Fucking bastard.

A whimpering mess, your eyes pinch shut in response.

“I can’t—” you croak, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

Deft hands brush your hair back from your face. “You can. I know you can, baby.” His voice softer, barely audible through the wet smack of his balls, smeared in the evidence of your earlier release, firmly slapping against the curve of your ass. The sounds obscenely echoing through the quiet of his bedroom.

You whimper and try fruitlessly to nod. He knows you can, and he’s right. Your hips wouldn’t be grinding up off the mattress to meet his thrusts. You wouldn’t be feeling something roiling low in your belly.

“One more time, baby. Give me one more n’ I’ll let this sore little pussy rest,” he whispers, lips kissing away your salty tears.

You nod eagerly. His hand reaches up to the headboard, fingers curling around it and locking into place, his other removes one of yours from his shoulder, pins it to the pillow above your head. And with his hand clasping your damp palm, fingers squeezing then interlocking with yours, he fucks you harder.

The change in pace has tears spilling from your eyes and pooling into the shells of your ears. The wave swells, swells, swells —

Your phone screen lights up the dark room, buzzing on Joel’s nightstand.

You freeze, neck craning in the direction of the vibration, eyes squinting and damp lashes fluttering at the bright screen, Dad, it reads.

Shit.

You gaze back up at Joel, wide-eyed, panic surging in your chest. Joel growls. “Don’t answer.”

You don’t listen. You know your father, he’ll keep calling until you answer. Without saying another word, your hand comes up to the wooden surface in search of your phone. You take a few deep breaths, trying to quell the anxious heat swirling inside you, unplug your phone from the charger, slide a shaky thumb across the screen, and press the phone to the shell of your ear.

“Hey—” You clear your throat awkwardly, “Hey, Dad,” your voice breathy, tired.

You unstick your body from Joel’s, your free hand presses to his strong chest, a silent effort to halt his movements.

“Kid! I’m sorry to call you this late, but before you left for Eve’s, I forgot to let you know to be home in time for breakfast.”

Jesus. That could’ve been a text.

You sit up, scoot back into the pillows, while Joel sits back on his knees, wincing in unison as his cum-drenched cock slips out of your overflowing slit. Almost instantly, you feel a steady stream of his spend trickle out of your opening. He’d already managed to fill you to the brim three times tonight.

You fiddle with your bottom lip. “Breakfast? I thought we were just doing dinner.”

“Well, I thought since you’re only in town for a few days, we could go the whole nine yards. I missed our breakfasts together. I enjoy them, kid,” he says softly.

Your bleary eyes flick back to Joel. The smug grin that graces his lips and the gleam of something darker in his eyes don’t put you at ease. He’s up to something, as always.

You grumble, massaging your forehead. “Yeah, sure, Dad. I’ll be home by nine. Listen, I gotta—”

“Oh! Speakin’ of dinner, I was thinking of inviting Joel over,” your dad says, plainly.

Your heart stutters. “Joel? W-Why?”

The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches, dark eyes glimmer with mischief. Two heavy hands find your waist, and he’s sliding you back down towards him. Slow and suspicious, one of his hands finds your knee, and presses it flush to the mattress. You both watch as his other hand cups the back of your other knee, pushing it back down to match the other, exposing you to the sex-tainted air. With his eyes transfixed on the slow trickle of his spend, his hand then wraps around the base of his cock, tip lining up with your aching hole.

There it is.

“Poor guy has been asking about you, kid.” And Joel glides the head of his cock up and down your puffy seam, collecting your mixed juices on his tip then taps the heavy weight of it on your perked clit twice in quick succession; Joel smirks at the wet smack. You jolt, thighs attempting to clamp shut, his firm grip on your knee tightens, keeping you open for him.

You pinch your eyes closed and curse under your breath.

“What was that, honey?”

Your eyes snap open, and you scramble to recover, “N-nothing, I just–” You clear your throat again. “Sorry. What were you saying, Dad?”

Joel chuckles lowly as he leans forward on top of you, pressing his broad frame in on you, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. Chest to chest, belly to belly, pelvis to pelvis, tacky skin against tacky skin, once again as before. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, and with his mouth at your other ear, his tongue darts out to lick at the salty droplet there before suckling ever so slightly on your flesh, you bite back a moan.

Your dad, oblivious to your current state, continues, “Oh— Joel’s been asking after you. Think he’s getting sick of your old man if I’m honest. He keeps telling me he misses having you around, always goin’ on about how you’ve grown up right before his eyes…”

He can hear him. You know he can by the feel of the corner of his mouth curling up into a grin, teeth grazing your carotid now. He lifts his head, dark gaze meeting yours while his massive hands cup your tits, caressing, squeezing, kneading, while muttering, Goddamn have you grown up.

Your cunt flutters around nothing, and you sigh into the phone; your dad doesn’t hear it through his rambling. You don’t register what he’s chatting away about because then, Joel’s nose nuzzles into your neck, traces a line up, up, up until his tongue snakes out and meets the curve of your earlobe. Licks the meat of it into his mouth and takes it between his teeth, your whimper cuts off into a moan when the bite turns sharp.

His fingers fiddle with your nipples. “Naughty little thing,” Joel taunts, warmth of his breath fanning across the hinge of your jaw, “You liked that?”

You keen and nod, his hand dips south between your bodies, wrapping around the base of his length, notches the too-wide cockhead at your too-small hole. You turn your head, pressing your mouth to the scruff of his beard, muffling the whine he elicits from you.

Joel pushes inside, takes a moment, and just to mess with you — he fucks his tip in and out of your drooling hole in small pulses — once, twice, thrice — teasing you, making you moan. He tilts his head, nosing your cheek, breath hot and voice deep, “Listen,” he commands.

Absentmindedly, you tilt your phone away from your ear, away from your dad’s mumblings. You strain your ears to obey him. In and out, in and out. The squelch of your sticky wet reverberates against the four walls of his bedroom as the blunt head of his cock moves in and out.

In. And out.

“Fuck,” you mutter, eyes flitting down to watch his cock impale you.

Your dad’s voice cuts in through the fog, redrawing your attention.

“Sweetie? You okay? What’s wrong?”

Your eyes widen. Shit. “I’m–I’m–fine, I– I j-just stubbed my toe. Dad, I really can’t t–” You stammer, and Joel chuckles lowly.

Your stuttering emboldens him, taking it as an invitation to torture you further, and with his lips against your ear, a breathy moan escapes from his lips as Joel feeds you his cock, slowly working himself back into your spent cunt. So painfully slow that he ensures you feel every ridge and every vein, and in turn, he feels every inch of your warm, velvet walls sucking him in as he eases himself into you. Used cunt clamped tight around him as you welcome him back in — inch by torturous inch.

He stills once he reaches resistance, and you bite your bottom lip hard enough that you taste copper, suppressing the moan climbing up your chest as his tip knocks your cervix, heavy balls pressed flush to your ass — finally bottoming out inside you.

He ruts into you once, tip bumps your cervix again — goading you, and you gasp in return, fingernails indenting his shoulder, half–moon crescents marking his skin. Beads of sweat roll off his forehead and onto your face, mixing with the warm tears now cascading down your face, and your tongue darts out to taste it. The flavor of him — his sweat, his musk — only feeds the dizzying blur that is your mind. But through the foggy haze and the lewd, wet slap of flesh against flesh, you think you can hear your dad saying, You really need to quit the habit of walking around in the dark, kiddo.

And you think you’re nodding, an endless litany of, yes, yeah–yeah slipping past your lips, as you rush your way through the phone call with your father, uncaring. Only interested in the shifts of Joel’s hips, slowly fucking into you in measured thrusts.

Joel tuts. “Such a dirty fuckin’ girl, gettin’ off while speakin’ to her daddy.” And your grip in his hair tightens, walls tensing in response. “Attagirl, keep squeezin’ me like that. You gonna show me just how naughty you are for me, hm? Gonna let me have it with him on the phone? Gonna cream all over my cock, naughty girl?”

You nod your head numbly, mouth dry and unable to speak with the tip of his cock prodding at the soft spot inside you on every languid stroke, hips swaying back and forth.

The wave begins to crest, and despite your eager nodding at Joel only a second prior, there’s no way in hell you’re really going to come on your boyfriend’s cock — your dad’s best friend — while on the phone with your father.

Your voice claws its way up your throat, “D-dad, I’m — mmm — sorry I really have to g–” You think your thumb presses the red button, but your phone slips from your hand, dropping to the carpet with a muffled thump, and it’s too late to check if you’ve fully hung up on him, and frankly, you’re too consumed by your lover to care.

Grinning with pride, Joel pulls back, cock halfway out of your pussy and your hands grasp at his shoulders.

“Joel— f-fuck–please,” you beg, your resolve melting.

He clicks his tongue. “Na-uh, try again.”

“D-d-daddy–please,” you whine.

“D-d-daddy,” he mocks above you. “Say it, pretty girl.” He knows, but he wants to hear you say it.

“Harder. Please, daddy–I–I wanna come, please, I wanna come,” you mewl, voice all whiny and petulant.

He says nothing. Without pulling out of you, his long fingers wrap around to grip the backs of your knees, pinning your thighs to your chest, knees to your shoulders, feet dangling in the air beside his beautiful head, folding you in half. Then, he moves to plant his feet flat on the mattress, propping himself up, hands on your thighs to steady himself.

You’re already a mewling, writhing mess underneath him as he fucks in and out of your wasted cunt — it doesn’t take much longer for you to get there. The air fills with sounds of the headboard hammering against the wall and filthy, sloppy sounds of where you two are connected as he bashes into you with arrant primal vigor.

The new angle has him hitting a point inside you, deeper than you ever thought to exist. And still — the wave doesn’t break. With his eyes locked on yours, you know he can tell. He can always tell. He’s made you scream his name enough times since the beginning of your many clandestine meetings last summer to know when you’re teetering on the edge. In need of more.

And for a moment, you think you can see it in him. Hazel eyes practically glint against the pale moonlight that spills into his bedroom. Joel bares his teeth in a cocky grin, his hand releases one of your thighs to cup your face, thumb parting your plush lips when he says, give it to me, kiddo, soak your old man’s cock.

Oh fuck.

Your eyelids flutter shut, your head falling back onto the pillows, hands clutching and pulling at tufts of his grizzled curls. Lips closing around his thumb wedged in your mouth; licking, sucking, biting into his flesh, as the crest finally breaks and washes over you, taking you under the rogue waves.

But Joel still doesn’t let up. One more time, my ass.

He’s insatiable. And he shows you just how insatiable he is when his thumb slips from your spit-smeared lips and reaches between your bodies, the pads of his fingers expertly thrum at your sensitive clit.

Your face twinges up at the intense, almost painful pressure as he pinches your clit between his index and middle fingers, hard. The swing of his hips speeds up, cock relentlessly beating your sore cunt. The sight of his girth, disappearing and reappearing as he pounds your pussy at a punishing pace, and his fingers twisting your swollen clit has your belly pulling taut and snapping within the same beat. With a broken shout of his name, you gush around the root of his cock, dripping down his balls. It’s warm and sticky when it seeps down, past your tight ring of muscle, soaking his blue sheets and turning them the shade of charcoal gray.

Joel coaxes you through your seventh–eighth toe-curling orgasm of the night. An endless stream of sweet nothings spills from him — good girl, that’s it, kiddo. I know, I know, it’s so much, I know – fuck– such a good fuckin’ girl, as he fucks you through it.

Your sloppy cunt clenches around him, and with his cock choked tight, deep within your bruised walls, he follows soon after. Growls raggedly as he unravels, and his own orgasm rolls through him, decking the hall of your weeping cunt with warm, milky ropes of cum for the fourth time tonight.

Joel collapses onto your sticky chest, placing open-mouthed kisses to your dampened face — your cheek, your nose, your forehead, while he pumps you full of his seed, abiding by his promise. And when he’s done, his sweaty forehead drops to yours for a moment. The waves now a steady ripple through your body as you come down.

After a moment, he lifts his head, and in retaliation for giving you what was possibly the best fuck of your life while on the phone with your father and nearly exposing your tryst, you bring one of his hands to your face, hollow your cheeks, and suck his thumb while looking up at him with wide and falsely innocent eyes.

He licks his lips but manages to pry his post-coital eyes away. Instead, his cum-soaked cock slips out of your tired, leaking cunt. When he leans back, you swallow a moan, catching sight of the aftermath of your many arousals in his pubic hair. Graying curls swimming in a pool of your combined releases that drips down his thighs. A thin strand of your shared pearlescent spend shines in the soft moonlight, stretching from his balls to your folds, still connecting the two of you as he pulls away.

Joel misses it, something else pulls his attention. His gaze shifts to the clock beside your head. A hint of a smirk passes over his lips.

“You’re lucky it’s Christmas, darlin’,” voice low, dangerous.

Your head snaps in the same direction. It’s past midnight. You smirk in turn and pull the comforter up to hide it.

You feel him shift over you, elbow popping loudly as he reaches for what he’s looking for before he moves to sit up beside you, back against the headboard. His hand pulls the comforter back down from your face, and you roll over and sit up on your knees to face him.

His other palm opens, wordlessly presenting you with a single twig of some plant. One with moss green, teardrop–shaped leaves and plump, round berries, waxy and opaque in color.

Mistletoe.

You take the meat of your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a laugh that threatens to bubble through you. Because of fucking course he would.

Though, the soft laugh is short-lived. His broad hand waves the mistletoe over him, but not where it should be. Your gaze follows the movement of his hand, and your mouth falls agape. Your eyes snap back up to Joel’s, and his wicked smirk broadens.

Joel Miller — naked as the day he was born and splayed on top of his messy sheets — dangles the mistletoe over his length, still hard as a rock and stirring in his other hand.

But it doesn’t stop there.

Beneath the mistletoe rests a lump of bright red and velvety felt; a fluffy white cuff rounds the brim, and a matching fuzzy white bobble hangs at the end of it.

A Santa hat perched jauntily on his cock.

You shut your mouth and swallow thickly, already feeling that familiar ache at the apex of your thighs, and you clench around emptiness, a stream of his seed dribbling out of your overstuffed cunt and further soiling his bedding.

“But it ain’t a Merry one till you give Santa's big sack a few kisses.”

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luvelydelilah · 5 months ago

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Struggling with emotional scenes? Here are some tips for writing emotion!

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1. While you’re writing, try to build an explanation for their feelings. What triggered their emotion? Is their reaction rational or are they overreacting? Do they fight, flight, fawn or freeze when provoked? Do they feel threatened?

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2. Show, don’t tell. Describe what is happening instead of plainly stating the situation. Try not to use words like sad, happy, devastated, in pain, angry, nervous, scared, or worried. They cut back on the emotional integrity of the scene and make it hard for readers to connect with your characters. Here are some different behaviors for different emotions.

-Eager-

Bouncing up and down

Unable to sit still

Breathing deeply

Fidgeting

Pretending to do something

Trying to stay busy

Constantly looking at the clock

-Nervous-

Red and hot face

Sweaty palms

Voice cracks

Shaky hands

Biting nails

Biting lips/inside of cheek

Wide eyes

Shallow breathing

Heart racing

-Excited-

Wide smile

Squeal/scream

Bouncing up and down

Fidgeting

Playing with hands

Tapping foot

Talking fast

Tapping pencil

Pacing back and forth

-Scared-

Curling up/bringing knees to head

Closing eyes

Covering ears

Stop breathing or breathing quickly

Biting nails

Shaking

Gritting teeth

Hugging/squeezing something tight

-Frustrated-

Stomping

Grunting/mumbling/yelling

Deep breaths

Red and hot face

Hitting/kicking something

Pointing

Straining/veins become more visible

-Sobbing-

Eyes filling up with tears

Eyes burn/turn red

Red cheeks

Face becomes puffy

Pursed lips

Holding head down

Hyperventilating

Fast blinking

Trying not to blink/holding back tears

-Happy-

Smiling wide

Laughing loudly

Cheeks hurting

Talking loudly

Higher pitched voice

Animated/expressive

-Upset-

Walking slowly/shuffling feet

Head down/avoiding eye contact

Biting inside of cheek

Dissociation

Keeping quiet

Fidgeting

-Bored-

Pacing back and forth

Sighing loudly

Complaining

Fidgeting

Blank face

Looking for something to do

Making up stories

Talking about random topics

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3. Try and bring some trauma into your character’s emotions. For example, something might happen that reminds them of a suppressed/traumatic memory. This is an easy way to hook your reader and have them really feel like your character is a real person with real emotions. They might have some internal conflict they need to work through and a certain situation reminds them of that. They might become irritable at the thought of their traumatic experience and they might snap at whoever is nearby.

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4. Most characters won’t dump their entire backstory or feelings in a conversation. Try and reserve your character’s emotions to make more interesting scenes later on. For example, your character may be triggered and someone may ask them what’s wrong. Will they give in, soften up and share? Or will they cut themself off and say they’re fine? Also take into account that your character might not know the other character very well and won’t be comfortable sharing personal information with them, like details regarding their trauma.

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5. Last but not least, you don’t need to have a major event happen to connect emotionally with your audience. You don’t have to kill off a character every time you need to spice up your story, even simple interactions can just help your readers understand your character better. Show how they react to certain topics or situations. Describe their feelings, their surroundings, their body language. Their defense mechanisms will help the audience to better understand what kind of person they are.

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bachissidehoe · 3 months ago

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Thinking about an inexperienced Kenma, the poor thing never even kissed a girl, dragged to a college party by his roommate Kuroo just to get out of the small apartment for once- a scared little virgin kitty with a nervous look in his eyes, trying to avoid the height of the alcohol infused party at all costs. And you, the perceptive woman you are, you can spot that inexperience from a mile away, such a pretty boy like him shouldn’t go untouched for so long. Taking him upstairs wouldn’t be hard at all, you have a private bathroom in your room you could offer him. And the poor kitten, he’s such a virgin he can’t handle the sight of your panties strewn out on the floor of the bathroom without his cock straining desperately against the thin fabric of his pants. And the inexperienced Kenma, the poor thing, he’d be so shocked when you sit him on your unmade bed and free that thick cock so you can taste him. Poor Kenma- he’s so touch-starved that he can’t even handle how warm and wet your pretty mouth is, his tip full and his length heavy and twitching on your lips. Even a few squeezes of his shaft is enough to send him over the edge, apologetically spilling a hot load down your throat before he can even warn you. But the poor thing, the little kitten, he’s hard again just from seeing you swallow every last drop of his milk. You can make him cum again, surely, by letting him feel your tight little hole gripping his full cock. Poor Kenma, he can’t even look at you, his eyes screwed shut and his hips bucking against your rough ride. The desperate little kitten can’t even hold himself together, whining and whimpering with his mouth wide open, taking in the ecstasy of your cunt sucking him further and further in. Poor little Kenma would be practically milked dry by the time you’re done with him, stumbling back to the party on shaky legs. The poor thing would think about you all the time too, finding himself flushed and his cock heavy and straining. He would become addicted to you so fast.

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floatmeintothesun-2 · 3 months ago

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put a bow on it

tags - mark grayson x f!reader, blow jobs, 18+, short drabble

summary - just a little bit of fun between you and mark. You do indeed put a bow on it ;)

cw - MINORS DNI, NSFW CONTENT

—

"This is so stupid."

"No, no, just humor me, babe."

"I did. I am. and now I'm saying it's stupid." Mark huffs crossing his arms and looking away from you. as if that will somehow hide his blush. Embarrassed. When you had brought it up earlier, he had just made a face and shrugged. He’s getting flustered now. You put a hand on his thigh to keep him still and he sighs, letting you do as you want.

And currently, you're doing exactly that. sitting pretty between your boyfriend's spread legs as he reclines back on your couch, hiding the flush on his cheeks with an exasperated hand. his cock is right in front of your face, thick and pretty and dripping with desperation.

Tantalizingly, it twitches in front of your face as you delicately peruse the soft, silk ribbons you bought specifically for this. The ten dollars costed for this was definitely well spent, you think as you lightly wrap a warm palm around him. Your other hand busies itself selecting a ribbon — pale pink and shimmery.

His eye twitches and you suppress a smirk as the muscles in his abdomen flex. Have you mentioned how good he looks? Have you mentioned the way that gorgeous flush compliments his pale features, dusting his cheeks and the tip of his dick?

“This one’s cute, isn’t it?” You ask, and he presses his lips together, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’re enjoying this too much.” He accuses, not answering your question. Still though, he doesn’t move away as you wrap the thin, flimsy thing around his cock. His adams apple visibly bobs as he wrinkles his nose against the feeling. You coax him from softening with a few gentle pumps, earning a low hum from Mark.

“Maybe.” You acknowledge vaguely, neatly tying off the bow. Cute.

His neglected dick twitches when you press a kiss to the tip, and he inhales slowly. Your hand has never stopped it’s relentless up and down, and you know it’s torturing him. A pink tongue darts out to wet his lips and you hear his breath hitch. Hook.

Slowly, you draw your own tongue in a slow, lazy circle, pushing back the foreskin with a quick thumb. Salty, warm, a little soapy from whatever he used to wash himself — you entertain yourself by slowly moving down the shaft. Your cunt aches with every strained noise that escapes him, and you trace the veins arching up the thick flesh. Up and down you go, neatly avoiding disturbing the little bow. His jaw clenches when you take the tip into your mouth. Line.

“Fuuuck.” He whispers, staring up at the ceiling, hands clenched into the cushions. His hips rock up into your hot mouth, inching into the delicious wet heat that has him shivering. Sends ripples down his spine, electrocutes him from the inside out. His brain feels fried — frizzled. He can’t think about anything but the feeling of your mouth on his cock and that stupid bow on his dick that shouldn’t even be doing anything to him —

Shit. You’ve barely taken more than a couple inches, why is this affecting him so much?? It’s embarrassing, the way you unravel him so easily. Maybe it’s the way you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours. Maybe it’s the way you draw up and down his shaft. Maybe it’s the way you’re reaching down to touch his balls and — oh, oh damn.

Your smile is devilish. Sinker.

Suffice to say, the bow doesn’t survive the way Mark thrusts up into your mouth. Neither does your pussy when it comes to its turn.

—

wowza this was sitting in my drafts since 2023 lol. Sorry for any spelling mistakes, I’m not a native English speaker

#mark grayson smut #mark grayson x reader #invincible mark grayson #mark Grayson invincible #invincible x reader #invincible amazon #invincible smut #mark grayson x you

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potchi-fics · 6 months ago

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tw; amab cait, overstimulation

being the commander’s wife has its perks; seeing caitlyn’s vulnerable side, for instance—that is probably your favourite amongst your special privileges. that and also the fact that she worships the ground your heel walks on.

you have her wrapped around your finger, she will drop anything she’s doing the moment you utter out her name.

you knock on the door to her office, hearing her muffled voice say ‘come in’ and you do. you open it to see her eyes staring daggers into her paperwork, shoulders clearly tense, and her one hand rubbing the nail of her thumb using her index and middle finger, a habit she’s developed when under stress. you lock the door.

“you haven’t eaten, have you?” you cross your arms, rolling your eyes even, “how many times have i told you to eat on time, cait? up you go, i had them prepare us a meal.”

caitlyn massages the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, the lights from her office hurting her tired eyes, “darling, i’ve still got a little paperwork left. i will be done in twenty minutes.” you raise an eyebrow. “ten minutes.” you refuse to budge. “okay, let’s eat but first, can you come here, please?”

how can you refuse when she’s giving you the puppy eyes? you saunter over to her desk, walking around it so that you’re standing right in front of her. her shoulder sags at your close proximity, standing up and letting herself drape over your body.

you love it when she’s like this, all clingy and needy. she wraps her arms around your waist, shoving her face into the side of your neck, inhaling the scent that she adores—vanilla and lavender.

yours circled around her neck, staying completely still for her. her breath fans over your neck, quickly transitioning into soft pecks and kisses, leading to you giving her more access.

“i’ve missed you, darling,” her kisses proceed to the other side, “missed you so much.”

your eyes shut as she continues to plant kisses on you, turning into open wet-mouthed some time ago, you haven’t noticed. she leaves one last kiss before burying her head into your neck again but you need to kiss her.

you pull away, and the way her eyes fill with sadness immediately makes you pull her back in—your lips colliding harshly, teeth clashing, a low moan leaving you.

her hands go lower and they settle themselves under your thigh, lifting you and seating you on her desk: work be damned.

with a swipe over your lower lip, you open your mouth slightly to let her tongue in. caitlyn is famished: she’s licking every part of your mouth, sucking your tongue, you almost think she’s shoving her tongue down your throat. she holds your jaw, forcing you to take her violent kisses.

you try to get a word in, “i’ve missed you mor–”

she is impatient, and so are you.

your fingers fumble with her belt, blindly undoing it and pulling it down enough to slip your hand in. her half-hardening dick is straining against her boxers, making you giggle in the kiss. you palm her and she hisses at the contact.

you swallow her groans as you massage her cock, distracting her from kissing you. you feel her pull away but a grip on her hair stops her from doing so. a whisper of ‘please’ urged you to touch her finally.

you truly did miss her and her. caitlyn’s hips buckled towards you once you gripped the base of her cock, taking it out and you look down to see her tip already leaking her precum.

you grin at caitlyn however she avoids your stare, hiding her head on your shoulder, embarrassment coating her face. your thumb swipes the head, and your smile widens at her reaction. who would’ve thought that the commander could swear like a sailor. you tease her by doing that continuously—oh, that is torture for the poor commander; her tip is sensitive. and one noise from you almost made you cum, she whined.

caitlyn kiramman, leader of house kiramman, a decorated officer: a commander. whined.

your eyes shut, you can’t handle the noises coming from your wife. it turns you on so goddamn much. the neck kisses from earlier were enough to make you wet, but this? her hips buckling to chase your touch after every swipe? her whining on your shoulder to do something, it’s riling you up.

you push her back, and the back of her knees hits her chair and makes her sit down. the sight before you made you wish you could take a picture right about now: her gaze dazed, panting lightly, her pants and boxers pulled down so that her tip was poking out.

“darling, please.” there she goes again. “i need you.”

your composure breaks. you struggle to get out of your pants and undergarments but you do, pulling it down to your midthighs and getting off the table to face away from caitlyn. hands on your hips pull you down, gripping them that’ll leave bruises tomorrow morning. she pulls your underwear aside, her tip kissing your clit.

you take matters into your own hands and lead her right into you, your hand disappearing underneath—gasping when that familiar head breaks through. caitlyn growls lowly before pushing down roughly, your back arching at the sudden intrusion.

“g-gentle now,” you feel so good. you feel everything, you feel how she twitches, feel every vein. you feel how she faintly buckles her hips up. you slowly lift yourself, “good boy.”

she can’t help but harshly pull you back down, your hand shoots up to cover your mouth because she is hitting you just right. “i need you, darling. i need you. i’ve missed you.”

she stands up, along with you, her needy cock moving inside of you. you brace yourself on her desk, one hand still on your mouth and the other on the table. she uses her grip on your hips as leverage, using it to push and pull you, your cunt greedily welcoming her.

the tip of her cock is hitting your favourite spot, making you mewl in delight at the sensation, muffled moans and whimpers vibrating in the back of your throat, accompanying caitlyn’s own groans.

your cunt clenches around her and her pace wavers. she pushes you down, your breasts on top of her work, and you feel her lean down before continuing on bruising your cunt.

“shit,” caitlyn whispers on the back of your neck, kissing your nape, “missed you so much. you have no idea, darling.”

an unexpected pressure on your pussy makes you yelp—she managed to sneak a hand down, rubbing your puffy clit in a slow circle. the contrast of her thrusts and rubs results in you having a sudden orgasm. your eyes close shut, your toes curling in pleasure, ears ringing, and you accidentally, unconsciously, hit the things on her desk, hearing them clatter on the ground.

caitlyn whines at the feeling of you squeezing you, “fuck,” she goes back up, her hands returning to your hips, and resumes her thrusts—this time, aggressively.

“i just c-came,” your sore throat succeeded in letting out, your hand pushing back against her abdomen.

she doesn’t hear you. she’s focused on the ring that’s forming around her dick, thickening as she continues to pound into your pussy. she gets off on this: you two fucking in her office, you bent over on her desk, ruining her progress, she doesn’t care.

all she cares about is you taking her cock, all she cares about is you turning into a mess; a blabbering mindfucked mess. and you are. you’re letting out the most sinful and ungodly noises, your sensitive cunt, as well. she grits her teeth, she can feel herself about to cum, and the scene of your legs shaking, you trying to slow her down by putting your palm on her abdomen, is enough to make her cum.

she cums with a whine, it’s too much for her. she leans down to bite at your shoulder, her cock spurting in think squirts. her cum is warm, hot enough to spread throughout your body and that’s enough for you to cum again.

you’ve lost your voice so all you can do is hide your face in your forearm, trying your best to not scream.

“darling,” caitlyn gasps out, dumbstruck by you’re squeezing cunt, “you’re m-milking me.”

she stops cumming after a few seconds. she pulls out slowly, loving the way you cling to her. she falls back to her seat, admiring her work. still panting, you push yourself up with difficulty, the overstimulation still running.

“the food’s gone cold now, honey.”

#fanfic #imagines #writing #female reader #arcane #wlw #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn x you #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn #merry christmas #noche buena #hayaan niyo ako magluto #commander caitlyn #need her #need that #they fucking yall #BOOMSHAKALAKAAAAA

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moechies · 1 year ago

Text

bully gojo zzZ

super mean bully gojo who makes fun of you for not giving good head :( he knows you’re not experienced, and you really are trying your best to please him but it never pays off!

he’s constantly teasing you over and over for doing such a poor job, but never lets you by before he has you on knees sloppily drooling all over his stupidly big dick. you just don’t get it.

“such a sloppy mouth. ‘s a shame you don’t know how t’ use it.” he sighs.

the tip of his flushed cock lays flatly against your tongue, your drool and spit messily dripping all over the place, over his shaft and onto his hand. his thumb lays besides his cock inside your mouth, pressing on your tongue. he pays your mess no mind, fully attentive to how you plan to take him this time around.

your doe eyes come up to meet his, a silent cry for him to help. his stares back, his gaze piercing into your skin, shutting your eyes quickly to avoid his confrontation.

“suck it, baby. i shouldn’t need t’tell you that.” he mumbles firmly.

your fat lips wrap come to wrap around his sloppy cock head, only forcing yourself down halfway before it elicits a loud gag. you squeeze your eyes tight to prevent the tears pricking at your eyes from falling, attempting to pull yourself off per usual, but this time you’re stopped by a harsh hand behind your head.

“stop running. y’r gonna have to take it all at some point, dumb brat. might as well have it be this time, hm?”

you open your eyes in terror, and he only chuckles. he allows you to calm yourself, shallow but gentle thrusts allowing you to get used to the feeling.

he loathed having to treat you like a porcelain doll, but he knows that would’ve been broken long ago if he didn’t handle you so tenderly. and he can’t have that happening.

“loosen your throat.”

you squeeze your eyes tight, waiting for the moment he attempts to purse himself deeper in your throat. it burns, the way his mere girth is able to stretch all of you to impeccable lengths. the corners of your lips strain, spluttering as he holds your head in place and nudges his hips further into mouth.

you can’t help but hiccup around him, your throat convulsing perfectly to his liking.

“‘s too tight..” he whines, still mindlessly attempting to shove your mouth down on him completely.

“i guess that jus’ means we need t’do this more often.”

#jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo jjk #satoru gojo #gojo smut #jjk gojo #drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊

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mattslilies · 22 days ago

Text

Play Fight - M.S.

"oh, you're into that?" or... the one where play wrestling with matt turns into something more when you end up pinning him down. warnings: sub!matt, dom!reader, unprotected sex (do not try at home), riding, slight overstimulation (m receiving), bondage, more warnings to be added as i write word count: 773 a/n: sorry this is so short! im super busy today but i wanted to get something out for you guys!!

a whimper left matt's lips as your hands circled his wrists, pinning them down to the bed.

you sat up in surprise, a questioning look on your face as matt's cheeks turned as red as his sweater. he coughed, avoiding eye contact.

you and matt roughhoused a lot. being almost the same height, tickle wars often turned into slight sparring, which had gotten you into this... interesting position.

releasing his wrists, you stayed straddling him, not saying anything for a second. then, just as he moved his hands away from where you'd held them, you reached for them again.

you held them together and pushed them above his head, shifting your hips downward when you leaned over him.

another whimper left his mouth, much louder this time. you smirked, feeling his pelvis adjust underneath you, trying not to push into the friction you were unintentionally giving him.

"oh, you're into that?"

his blush deepened, stuttering over his words as he attempted to respond.

"n-no, i don't know what you're talking abou-"

you laughed a bit, moving off of him and stepping into his closet.

"yeah? so if i grabbed... this, maybe, and restrained you with it, you wouldn't like it?"

you played with a tie from his closet in your hands, looping it around your knuckles before straightening it back out, walking back over to him.

he stared at you in shock, lips parted open, not expecting you to actually play into this. he didn't think that you would've ever found out about this kink, even though he does sub for you often. he wasn't embarrassed of it, necessarily, but it wasn't something he was going to ask you to do for him.

you straddled him again, pulling his arms in front of his chest and easily tying them together before pushing them up and tying them to the headboard, faster than he could form a coherent thought.

"when did you- how do you know how to do this?"

you smiled down at him, a glint of mischievousness in your eyes.

"i know a large amount of miscellaneous things that may come in handy for your little... fantasies one day."

he swallowed, watching you move on top of him, his bulge straining against his pants. you decided to remove your own shirt, leaning over to kiss him, giggling at the way that he strained against the tie holding him.

you traced a finger down his cheek, admiring him.

"you look really pretty like this. tied up, desperate, i bet i could get you to beg for me..."

he opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off.

"don't worry, i'll play nice tonight."

you tapped his hips, signaling him to lift them as you helped him remove his shorts and boxers. tracing your finger around his tip, you watched as his face scrunched up in sensitivity, biting his lip to avoid whimpering as you tightened your hand around his shaft, beginning to stroke him.

"none of that. i want to hear you."

you pulled his lip from between his teeth with your other hand, a low whine falling from his lips as you praised him.

"much better. good boy."

kissing him passionately as you slowly sunk down on him, you swallowed every moan and gasp that left his lips, watching his arms strain against the hold as he reveled in the feeling of being inside you.

"oh, baby- i, oh my god-"

his fingers twitched as if reaching for you, only to remember he couldn't move them. you didn't give him much time to get comfortable before setting yourself a steady pace, your hands bracing on his chest to keep yourself upright as the pleasure ran through your veins.

there was no effort to drag it out, enjoying the rush of the new experience with matt. there were few things you enjoyed more than seeing matt feel ecstatic underneath you.

"you're perfect, fuck-- always make me feel so good."

matt let out a loud moan at your words, the praise pushing him even closer to the edge as his hips began to lose rhythm, frantically bucking as his hands balled into fists.

"that's it, go on baby, you've earned it, look iso pretty for me..."

your stream of praises and encouragement talked matt through his climax, seeing his back arch as he pressed deep into you, cock twitching and pulsing as he completely filled you up.

riding out your own orgasm, you tiredly smiled at him, brushing some of his hair off of his forehead before removing the tie from around his wrists.

"maybe i'll tie your legs down too next time."

taglist <3

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lxvvie · 30 days ago

Text

Threadbare.

“You’re doing it again.”

Simon’s back stiffened. He didn’t need context clues to know what it meant. Fuck.

Cigarette butts galore in his makeshift ashtray, the empty cartons of microwave dinners, and the dark circles under his eyes—damning stuff, that. He didn’t have the energy to argue otherwise. Couldn’t be arsed to meet your stare head on, either. Didn’t need to; the tone of your voice more than made up for what he’d see.

The weary bastard supposes it’s been a while since he saw you. His latest deployment went longer than anticipated and when he came home, work kept you busy and his demons went unchecked. Simon couldn’t find a middle ground, couldn’t achieve equilibrium, so he lost himself in the usual: little sleep, shitty cigarettes, even shittier food, and pity wanks. Bloody hell, he was pathetic.

“You promised me, Simon.” Just had to remind him, huh? Yeah, he did and no, he didn’t keep it. Fuckin’ sue him, then. He was a soldier where it counted, though, and kept his mouth shut and gaze downward to avoid turning this into an even bigger shitshow.

Then you fucked him over.

You brushed your fingers lightly over his jaw, over stubble days old and a fading scar, and he would’ve shivered if he weren’t so goddamn tired—when has that ever stopped him before? Your touch was a bloody godsend in the most painful way, a stark reminder of shit he never had before, something fleeting.

And his cock was hard.

Goddamnit. Simon thought when you finally had free time that it wouldn’t be spent doing this shit. He thought he’d have you spread out on his bed, head between your thighs, you moaning, saying his name, giving commands, praising him, holding on to him—anything to calm the demons, sweetheart. Anything but this. If he wanted to be reprimanded, he’d talk to the old man. The hell are you doing? “You promised, Simon,” you reiterated. So sue me sat at the tip of his tongue but again, he’s a soldier where it counts. For the most part. Fuck you want him to say? Sorry?

You ran your fingers over his stubble and scar once more, trailed them down his chest, didn’t stop there, went lower, and… you fucked him over. Again. And his cock’s straining in his pants. Leaking. A goddamn faucet. You didn’t even cup it like you normally would, you fuckin’ tease. But Simon wasn’t stupid; he knew you were expecting an answer. He just didn’t have one to give. Or at the very least, one that wouldn’t piss you off. Fuckin’ cocktease.

But, just as soon as you touched him, you stopped, and Simon felt the chill from your absence and disappointment very deeply. His brows furrowed, his body became rigid with trepidation, and his demons came calling. No. No, wait, please—touch him again.

It hits him like a truck, this… feeling. Goes against his very being, against everything that was either beaten, trained into him, or taken away, and Simon hates it. Hates the push and pull of it all, that it disarms him, leaves him bare and vulnerable, and you don’t even blink twice at him.

He hates the fact that he loves it damn much. Poor bastard leans into it, too tired to fight any more, and just wants to fuckin’ crumble to pieces in your arms.

Christ, he needs you. Missed you, too. And he's sorry, he's so bloody sorry, sweetheart. He wasn’t supposed to relapse. Pride’s a fuckin’ bitch to swallow but he’d do that and more if it meant hearing your contented hum, feeling your fingers trail through his short-cropped hair or wrap around his cock, or… or him tasting you. Fuckin’ hell, he wants to taste you. Doesn’t want to remember the taste of shitty microwave dinners, nicotine, and cheap alcohol. He wants that fine dining, wants it so bad that he’s desperate, and while sorry’s not a word in his vocabulary—can’t be, not with the life he lives—Simon’ll say it. He’ll swallow his fuckin’ pride and say it, all for this, luv. All for you.

Just don’t take this away from him, sweetheart. Don’t deny him this. Don’t take your softness and comfort away and leave him.

Don’t let his demons get the best of him.

But again, he’s a soldier where it counts. For the most part; discipline’s a bitch sometimes, yeah? Or did it make the shitshow worse? Fuck if he knows. You’re still looking at him expectantly. Or you were. The silence was palpable but Simon would get his answers, and not even a moment later, you tsked in dissatisfaction. Your soldier felt the disappointment emanating off of you in droves, especially in the way that you pulled back even further from him. It caused that primal, yearning part of Simon to rage, his cards laid out, the fed up beast within that wanted to tell you that didn’t know shit about him and what he’s going through, wouldn’t ever know shit about him and what he’s going through, and would you stop fuckin’ teasing him and just… comfort him?! What the fuck is wrong with you?

He keeps it contained as best he can. Manages to ground himself with what little fortitude he has left. Simon looks at you now, perhaps a little expectant himself, brows too furrowed for your liking, dark eyes intense, tired, longing, and everything in-between, and you suppose you’ll give him grace. Grace illuminated by repressed contriteness. For now.

But even compassion has its limits, and Simon’s everything would remain untouched. He didn’t have to give you an answer, not this time. But you would give him yours. And so you do in your small, tight-lipped smile, the once-over you give Simon’s body, his cock especially, and the way you turn to leave just as soon as you arrived. You’re gracious enough to look back one more time, to see him staring at you intensely with something akin to… well, fuck, everything. A little anger, some disgruntlement, contentment at seeing you again, yearning… Good. He was on edge. As he should be.

“I’ll see you later,” were your light parting words but Simon heard your threat loud and clear.

I better not see this again and don’t you dare touch yourself.

Fuckin’ hell.

#cutie 𝓠.#nsfw.#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #x black reader #x poc reader #x plus size reader #x gn!reader #task force 141

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meganegatari · 2 months ago

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EATING ELLIE OUT FROM THE BACKKK!!

idk if you’ve written this but omg she’d be the biggest mess crying into her pillow

eek sorry for the wait!! have been sitting on this for a while, but the loveliest, most genius ever @bloodstainedsapphic helped out SO MUCH by offering her skills to create a backstory and introduction + proofread the rest! once again i need to see yall showing her all the love or else, kay? i luv u lyssbug ♡

nsfw drabble—what the ask says, lol. dom!reader x sub!ellie, bratty!ellie, horndog!ellie acting up in public, praise & degradation, restraints ("scratchy rope"), fingering + oral, slight spanking (like once), edging, overstimulation...all e! receiving. this is so filthy i'm almost embarrassed...jfc. ++ 2k wc.

it had all started during dinner with your friends, earlier in the evening. your group was tucked into a corner booth, sharing stories and spouting nonsense like usual. you had noticed something…off, about ellie tonight, to say the least. not that she ever was miss sunshine, but her attitude all throughout was surly, dishing out tons of lip for the most innocuous comments and tamest teases.

you shot her a side-long glance and quirked your brow while your friends were distracted, trying to decipher the stick clearly lodged up her ass. ellie stares dead ahead, chewing on her lip, intent on avoiding your silent wrath.

you let it slide. for the moment.

but then, a few minutes later, the hand she’d casually snaked behind you—resting harmlessly on your hip—suddenly tightened. her fingers dug in without warning, then slid down your thigh in one brash sweep, topped with a cocky little squeeze. you’d have leapt from your seat and yelped had it not been for your audience.

she liked to keep a hand on you, but this? the deliberately possessive gesture was far too much for a dinner with your unassuming friends.

“ellie? what the fuck is wrong with you tonight?” you turn on her the second the restaurant door clicks shut behind you two, ready to head back to your place.

ellie gives you an eyeroll. “jesus. dramatic much? i have no clue what you’re talking about.”

oh. that wasn’t going to work on you, not one bit. you tugged at her shirt sleeve, yanking her to face you. “ellie..”

her green-speckled eyes flicked to yours, paired with the rush of pink blossoming on her cheeks that told on her. her insolence? the brattiness? it had all been an act. a test to goad your patience.

“so what? i just got bored, okay? i wanted to go home.”

“and what, ellie? go home and do what?” your lips tipped into a sly smirk. “you need something, baby?”

ellie’s throat bobs, like she can’t convince herself to admit to you what she had really been craving all night long. that she was needy for. you lean in, lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“you wanted to act like a brat tonight? just to get my attention?”

a pause. a heartbeat. her silence is answer enough.

“mm. cute.”

ellie avoids eye contact, fisting her pajama shorts, shifting uncomfortably against herself. she's mumbling under her breath—a feeble attempt to preserve some dignity. she starts to shrug off her clothes, not even attempting to hide her neediness under the previously defined attitude.

you give in.“yeah, okay. but turn around. ass up ellie, c'mon now.”

and now you're here, with ellie's body bare as the day she was born beneath you, her pert ass up in the air and pretty face shoved into the first pillow you grabbed. her wrists are tied and fighting against the scratchy restraints. you eye her dripping hole and trace your hand along the curve of her back, pushing her arch deeper.

the dim lamplight highlights just how badly she needs you, globs of glistening slick running down the back of her exposed freckly thighs, legs trembling ever so slightly. you can hear her whimpering already, if you strain.

“need me that bad, huh? wow, such a slut.” you sneer at the girl, taunting her to work her up even more. when the degrading name hits ellie's ears, she keens forward, mewling into the fabric, hands madly fidgeting against the rope. her tone is already raw, needy, and you haven't even touched her yet.

“will you do it already?” she asks you, twisting her torso around so she can glare daggers your way; or at least that's what energy she thinks she's giving off. ellie's willow green eyes are watering and her mouth is pursed, her doll-like features knitted into a purely pathetic expression. you were having a hard time not giving in and pleasing her, but the way she acted still hung heavy at the forefront of your mind.

“we're gonna do this my way, alright? be patient.” to emphasize the seriousness of your words, you give her a light smack on her ass cheek, to act as a warning. she yelps at the sudden contact, but keeps pushing. ellie was so full of attitude sometimes, you wonder where it all fits within her frame. she turns back to stuff her face in the pillow and grumbles, “fuck you, you've got me tied up and all bent over like this…jeez. the least you could is—fuck me, ahh—!!” you cut her off by shoving your middle two digits inside her sopping pussy, filling her up to the knuckle.

your own tone deepens, and you warn her again. but more sternly, “watch your mouth.”

“mmf- fine. just— keep going, please.” you could almost hear her eyes rolling back in her skull, even though you couldn't see her face.

your mouth curls into a mean smirk at her immediate submission, she was so easy to mold and you loved that about her. little touches would send her into the state immediately; toying with her was just the most fun. you're grateful she's turned away, because seeing how much you're enjoying this would cause her to hold back—and that's the very last thing you'd ever want. after all, her pleasure is your pleasure. every whine, every moan and whimper and cry…pure divinity.

ellie's breathing picks up, you see her shift in position as well, ever so slightly, just so she could covertly get you in deeper. her statuesque arch wanes while she pushes her perky chest into the mattress, her bent knees shifting further apart, simultaneously angling the front of her pelvis more outward for you.

such a feisty being, who knew she was such a whore for you?

she sighs at your intrusion, lightly squirming to get some friction. wordlessly, you let her, your free hand joining and making contact with her swollen bud—the most gentle touch on top, lighter than a feather or a summer breeze. her facade cracks even more, “please- more, i need it,”

but because ellie is, well, ellie, she summons what little fight in her she has left to throw at you with a light toss of her ass, “hahh—c'mon, you know you want to.”

your patience thins, and you exercise your control over her by bending your fingers inside her to find the spongy spot that makes her drool and you poke at it—she cracks.

dribbles of sweet slick continue to pour out of her and coat your hand, paired with whiny, high pitched moans. “thats it, fuck- yeah—right there…right there…mmh…”

you're almost concerned she's somehow going to break the restraints holding her wrists together, the way she's wiggling about. you continue your onslaught inside her, the squelching sounds of her soaked core damn near overpowering her inconsolable cries into the pillow.

she begins to shake and beg you even louder than before, “please—fuck- , yeah! ah, ah, ah-!” you watch her intently and feel the way her velvety walls clench around your digits, so you know she's close to the sweet release she's been craving all this time. you on the other hand, wanted to fuck with her some more—literally and figuratively. her stressed hole pulses, almost trapping your fingers inside her and she pushes back against you, impudently leaking like a faucet.

a moan gets caught in her throat but before she has a chance to fall off that pleasurable edge you pull out—leaving her empty and squeezing around nothing but air. she slurs into the pillow, her voice breaking mid-sob, “what the fuck...you evil bitch, i was about to cum…” oh she was pissed.

her body trembles once more, but more from the sexual craving than anything else. “you will, you will. patience, babe. remember?” you lean forward on top of her so your chest is flush against her clammy, speckled back and you whisper, “we're doing this my way.”

she sighs and gives up protesting, you hear a little sound of defeat. with a fed up groan, “i'm sorry, okay? jeez, fuck. i'll be more patient.”

“good girl, that's what i wanted to hear.” you clap your palms around the swell of her hips, pulling her ass towards you. time to get your meal. you bury your face in her heat, your mouth filling with the sweet taste of her syrupy anticipation.

your nose prods at her tight hole while your tongue works away at her cushy folds, your hands kneading her supple thighs and keeping her nice and spread wide for you. and ellie? she's just about losing her damn mind. squealing and shivering— the sensations reverberating through her.

the earlier teasing had made her so sensitive, you could feel her core fluttering against your skilled mouth already. bordering on screaming, she writhes and deepens her catlike arch even more, showcasing flexibility you didn't know she possessed.

she was still burying her face into the pillow, soaking it with salty tears and crying into it like a bitch in heat. you finally gave her throbbing clit some attention, pressing on the burning bundle of nerves with the pad of your thumb. whatever she's trying to tell you has morphed into unintelligible babbles paired with the most raunchy whines, you didn't understand a thing. but you knew how to read her body language. she was about to reach the peak once more, her cries turning shrill and needy at the overstimulation. her taste is getting stronger too, going from dainty and saccharine to rich and ambrosial; yet another telltale sign.

“fuck! wait— ohmygod…hhhhn” she careens forward again, succumbing to the mind-numbing pleasure. the orgasm rips through her lithe frame, ricocheting at such a force that would make armored knights submit. her warm release bubbles out of her overworked pussy and coats your face, coming out in ragged spurts. the pillow does next to nothing when it comes to muffling her noises, she was still so, so loud. the lungs on this woman, you thought.

pistoning your tongue in and out of her, simultaneously rubbing her flushed clit works her through the waves of ecstasy—but you weren't done yet.

you ease up on the pressure but keep your caresses the same speed, until within no time at all she shrieks and squirts all over you, slick dripping down your fingers and her legs, even running down your neck.

the scene was so animalistic, so raw and lustful, it was almost shameful. at this point she's wrung of all she can produce, shaking like a leaf and weakly weeping. you snapped out of your pussydrunk haze, smoothing your palms over her rather tense muscles.

ellie looks angelic. laid on the bed like this, ass to the heavens, a sheen of sweat coating her speckled body—as ethereal as can be.

you quickly undo the rope around her wrists, bending over to kiss the sore, irritated skin. taking notice of her deep breathing, she seemed at peace now—all fucked out. definitely learned her lesson.

you soothe some more, “did so good for me els, so good.”

she moves into a comfortable position and lets you cuddle up with her, giggling like her head is in the clouds.

but of course, her attitude returns momentarily. “had i known that was my ‘punishment’ for being silly,” she adds air quotes around the stressed word, “i'd act up even more.”

she was being cocky, considering the way she was certainly conjuring up a noise complaint and sniveling like crazy.

a guffaw tears itself from you. did she really want to hold you to that?

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pupsec · 2 months ago

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𐔌 、shikamaru　ﾉ　I FORGOT TO CHANGE THE DESCRIPTION FOR THIS UM HES JUST RLLY MEAN 𓈒　◟

cw: first time ノrough sex ノ overstim ノ explicit content ϑϱ

୨ৎ minors, blank & ageless blogs will be blocked ୨୧

Shikamaru is a fucking mystery.

Lazy. Grumpy. Always sighing when you talk too much, always telling you you’re “troublesome” with that dry, tired tone like he’s two seconds from walking out of the room. He never flirts, never compliments you, barely even looks at you sometimes—and it kills you. Because you like him. You want him. And every time he brushes you off with a muttered “what a drag,” it chips a little piece off your chest.

But then one night, everything shifts.

It’s late. You’re alone. He’s sitting on your bed, legs sprawled, shoulders slouched, eyes half-lidded and unreadable. Same look as always—like he couldn’t be bothered.

But he’s still here.

You sit beside him, too nervous to touch. Too quiet. And he notices.

“Tch. What is it now?” he mutters.

Your lip trembles.

He turns to look at you—and freezes.

You’re crying.

“…Are you crying?” he asks, voice sharp now. Not lazy. Just surprised. Alert.

“I—I’m sorry,” you choke, wiping your eyes, shaking. “I just—thought you didn’t even like me.”

He stares at you.

Doesn’t say a word.

Then: “Why the hell would you think that?”

You sniff, avoiding his eyes. “You’re always annoyed. Always distant. You never touch me, or smile, or say anything nice and I—fuck, I—I didn’t know if I was just embarrassing myself all this time.”

Silence.

Then suddenly—you’re being pushed.

Flat onto the bed, body pinned beneath his, his hand gripping your wrist, his breath hot on your face.

“You think I don’t like you?” he hisses, voice low, almost trembling with tension.

You blink up at him.

His hips shift.

And fuck, you feel it.

The thick, rock-hard press of his cock straining through his pants—massive, twitching, rubbing against your thigh with nothing between it but cheap denim and the heat of your skin.

“Does this feel like someone who doesn’t want you?” he growls.

You gasp.

“Shika—”

He cuts you off with his mouth—finally. His kiss is rough, desperate, full of all the shit he hasn’t been saying. His tongue pushes into your mouth like he needs to taste you, like he’s been starving for it. His hands are rough, tugging at your clothes, yanking your shirt over your head without finesse.

“I didn’t touch you,” he pants between kisses, “because I didn’t trust myself to stop. I’ve wanted to fuck you since the second you started looking at me with those stupid, pretty eyes.”

You moan as he strips you bare, his voice getting harsher with every second, like every word he’s kept inside is boiling over now.

“You think I didn’t notice the way you dress when I’m around? How you lean in when you laugh, how your perfume clings to my shirt if you get too close?”

He yanks his pants down, cock springing free—huge, flushed, already leaking at the tip.

You whimper.

“I thought you hated—”

He grabs your chin.

“Stop fucking saying that.”

Then he’s inside you.

No warning.

Just a brutal, deep thrust that steals your breath, stretches you wide and full and aching. You cry out, legs shaking as he holds your hips still, driving his cock into you with a groan that sounds like it’s been ripped from his throat.

“Does that feel like hate?” he grits.

You’re sobbing now. Overwhelmed. Full.

“N-no—I—I—”

He slams in deeper.

You scream.

“Say it.”

“Y-you want me—”

“Damn right I do,” he hisses, voice breaking. “So much it pisses me off.”

He fucks you harder then—deep, punishing strokes, his cock dragging against your walls perfectly, pushing you to your limit. His mouth finds your throat, your jaw, biting, kissing, tasting.

And even through the roughness—his hands are shaking.

Because it’s real.

And you finally fucking know it.

His fingers are brushing your cheek now, calloused pads strangely gentle for someone who just shoved your legs apart like it was a fucking mission directive. Shikamaru’s eyes are half-lidded, dark, a little heavy with guilt but not enough to stop the way his hips are still grinding against you, cock buried to the hilt.

He’s deeper than you’ve ever felt anyone.

His voice is low, and there’s no softness to it, no apology in his tone—just that dry edge of irritation that somehow feels good when it’s wrapped around pet names like that. Like he’s annoyed at himself more than you. Like the idea of hurting you makes his chest ache but he still can’t help being rough.

You whimper—half embarrassed, half moaning as his cock grinds against your spot again, the stretch still so much, the pressure making your head spin.

He shifts—one hand on your hip, holding you down, thumb rubbing a lazy, mocking circle.

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Takin’ it so well. Gonna act like I didn’t just stuff you full on your first time?”

You whimper again, thighs trembling.

“Poor thing,” he breathes. “Didn’t even know how good you'd feel wrapped around me, did you?”

His pace picks up—not fast, not brutal, but purposeful. Every thrust lands deep, slow and heavy, like he's fucking you in slow motion just to make sure you feel every inch of him. His cock drags along your walls, thick and perfectly curved, and he watches your face for every twitch, every choked moan, every little flutter of your lashes when it gets too good to hide.

“Gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he says casually, voice just a breath above a sigh. “No one’s gonna fuck you this deep. They wouldn’t know how.”

You cry out, and his hand moves, thumb brushing your lower lip.

“You like that? Like when I talk down to you while I’m this far inside?”

You nod, helpless.

He hums, amused.

“Thought so.”

His thrusts get sharper now, still not fast, but firm, knocking the air out of you, making you cry out with every roll of his hips.

“You’re so tight,” he groans. “Too good. It’s annoying. You make it too easy to lose my goddamn mind.”

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, panting.

“You better cum soon,” he mutters. “I’m not gonna last if you keep clenching like that.”

You whimper, already close, your body burning, stretched, full.

And then, soft but sharp, right into your ear—

“C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”

#✦⁺⸝⸝ @smut #⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀#naruto headcanons #naruto fanfiction #naruto x reader #naruto #naruto smut #naruto x reader smut #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru nara #shikamaru smut #shikamaru x reader smut #anime smut #smut fanfiction #smut x reader

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babyleostuff · 1 year ago

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passenger princess(es)

𝜗𝜚 fluff, established relationship 𝜗𝜚 idol!seungcheol x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 wc: 894

・ ❥ ・ there is nothing that could stop cheol from taking care of his passenger princess(es)

„hey baby, can you pass me the water bottle?” seungcheol let go of the wheel, so he could grab the bottle from you, not tearing his eyes from the road for a second.

cheol was a great driver, excellent even in his humble opinion - he has never gotten a ticket in his life, and people told him on multiple occasions how safe they felt with him behind the wheel. he was also very much aware of how hot he looked driving, something he often used against you. with the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up (which accentuated his yummy biceps even more), the expensive watch around his wrist and, for dessert, his other hand resting on your thigh - you had no other way out than to totally thirst over your unfairly sexy boyfriend.

there were times when you found yourself staring at him with no shame, he was that hot. not that seungcheol cared, if he did he wouldn’t flex his biceps on purpose while grabbing the wheel.

but while he was (obviously) very careful while driving, it seemed that his protective instincts kicked in on a higher level when you were sitting next to him.

that’s why when you didn’t answer him, or gave him the bottle, he made sure to grab the wheel with both of his hands before throwing a glance at you.

„my love, did you h-,” words stuck in his throat when he saw your closed eyes and your head resting against the window. cheol knew that sooner or later you would fall asleep anyway, no matter how hard you insisted on not sleeping. “i want to keep you company,” you pouted angrily, and grabbed the AUX, “don’t want you to feel lonely.” it was on the tip of cheol's tongue that there was no chance he would feel lonely, even if you were sleeping. not to mention your little white fluff ball in the backseat that always kept him company.

„you see, told you mommy would fall asleep,” he laughed, looking at your precious baby in the rearview mirror. kkuma seemed to have the best time looking at the passing cars, barking at some of them, and wagging her tail at others.

seungcheol sighed with a smile, as he grabbed your hand that was resting on your tummy. „ah, what am i going to do with you, my silly girls.”

to be honest - he couldn't have been more content. you spent the whole day together on the beach, with kkuma running into the waves (she ended up looking like a wet mop), eating food from the seaside food stalls, walking along the shore, and finally ending the day with a swim together. days off were the best.

suddenly, his daydream was cut short when he felt you shiver. cheol wouldn’t have been that worried (you sometimes got those shivers in your sleep, which he always found really cute), but you grabbed his hand tighter, as if you were searching for more body heat. he frowned as he ran his hand over your arm, feeling the goosebumps on your skin.

„why didn’t you just tell me you were cold,” he muttered, half annoyed, and half worried. your hair was still wet, and your clothes damp after you put them over your swimsuit, so if the AC was too low you could get sick - something seungcheol wouldn’t let happen, even if it meant he’d have to fight the illness himself.

fortunately, there was a gas station a few kilometers away.

he parked right next to a small field of grass so he could also let kkuma out for a moment, and opened the trunk in search of a blanket he could cover you with. cheol also found his sweater and decided that two layers wouldn’t hurt.

to avoid any neck or back cramps, seungcheol gently repositioned you in your seat so as not to wake you up, but still let you sleep peacefully without straining any muscles. technically he could just turn the heating on, but he just let you freeze for the past god knows how many minutes - he had to bundle you up. „my pretty girl,” he stroked your cheek, leaning in to kiss your nose, before covering you with the sweater.

„c-cheollie?” you suddenly mumbled, and raised your hand to rub your eyes. your boyfriend couldn’t help but laugh at your slightly confused expression.

„i pulled over, baby,” he said softly. „you were sleeping and you were clearly freezing, which by the way, please let me know next time if you're cold, so i stopped to cover you up.”

you looked at him with big, sleepy eyes like you were still trying to figure out which planet you were on - you were clearly still too tired to understand. „’s okay, go back to sleep.”

some people were afraid of sleeping in cars, after all, there were so many situations that could lead to a catastrophe - what if the driver fell asleep or did not notice the approaching vehicle?

but you were not scared at all, not in the slightest. if you had to pick one person on earth that made you feel the safest, you’d pick choi seungcheol without a hesitation. in a car or not - you knew he’d protect you no matter what.

that's why, without thinking, you nodded and closed your eyes, falling back asleep.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot

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jordiemeow · 2 months ago

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AHHHHHH

I wanna DEEPTHROAT your fics!!

Okay okay so imagine enemies to fuckbuddies/lovers with patrick and he pisses reader off so much she pounces on him and chokes him and hes like "are you grinding on me rn...?" Like she didnt even realise and they fuck :3

girl i wanna deepthroat YOU for this suggestion hello. Please. anyways wasn't supposed to yap so much sorry self indulgent i just want him to call me a bitch and then tweak out about it.

warnings: smut 18+ (p in v), dry humping, choking, no proofreading soz

Oh, what a fucking asshole.

You swear your eyes are going to be stuck permanently in your skull with how hard you've been rolling them at Patrick all night. Smug grin and blue collar slightly upturned from a flick of Art's hand—you just wanna choke the life right out of him. Awfully tempting.

"—I just think you're being sensitive," he insists, leaning forward in his beach chair.

The gathering has long died down by now. Most of your friends have 'gone to bed' (are drunkenly hooking up with each other). Art staggered off ten minutes ago claiming something about having a hangover in the morning. Bullshit. He's had two beers at the most; he's just avoiding the bickering still going on in his absence.

Two weeks into the summer and you're regretting agreeing to come along with your friends to the Zweig summer house. You're only here for Art. Sweet boy.

Patrick? A menace.

"Sensitive?" You retort incredulously, setting your drink on the ground with a soft clang.

"Yeah. Sensitive. Sensible," he replies in a very poor imitation of French. "Does that help?"

Your jaw clenches. "Oh, yeah. Thanks."

Your dry reply amuses him further, head tilted as he observes your very apparent frustration. "It's just a word. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"I just don't think that men should—"

His groan interrupts you. "Should, what, say bitch? Don't get all liberal on me."

"Liberal?" You bark back.

"Liberal. Feminist. Whatever." A dismissive wave of his hand. "It's all the same."

You rise to your feet, scoffing under your breath about men having zero awareness. He just watches you, smirk still in place as you smooth down your summer dress and prepare to head for the house. Maybe you'll be matching nursing headaches with Art in the morning; you don't understand how he doesn't have a permanent migraine when he's stuck with this shithead all the time.

And then, of course, just as you start up towards the house—

"What, not even a goodnight? You don't have to be such a bitch about it."

You whirl on him in an instant. One, two, three, four long strides before you're lunging at him so hard his chair almost tips over. His smirk melts in an instant, the sound of surprise he lets off breaking into a choked sound when your fingers curl around his throat. You aren't sure whether it's the amount of times you've heard the word bitch tonight or just the complete assholery you've had to put up with for the last few weeks.

It doesn't matter. All you know is you can't take it anymore.

"Shut up, Patrick," you snarl. "Just... shut the fuck up for once in your life."

He's not sure what silences him: the pressure around his throat, or the sheer venom in your voice. But his mouth snaps shut audibly, and you can feel him swallow against your palm.

"You just... you never know when to quit, do you? Do you get off on this? On being a degenerate asshole? Or are you really just so much of a bitch—" He almost cracks a smile when he hears that. For the sake of his poor neck, he doesn't. "—That this is who you really are, huh?"

"I was just joking," he tries to pacify you, his voice strained. He's not sure why his hands stay on the arms of his chair; certainly not out of self-preservation, that's for sure. He should be prying you off him right now.

You take some satisfaction in the way he rasps, and that tiny flicker of fear in his eyes. But you're far from done. "You're so entitled that it's baffling. We get it, Patrick. Mommy and daddy don't love you so you feel the need to take it out on everyone else. But you aren't funny. You're just an asshole. So just... just shut up!"

It's a miracle he can breathe at this point. The way his eyes have widened and his breathing is stilted makes guilt settle at the pit of your stomach. Not enough to remove your hand entirely, of course, but your grip loosens enough for him to inhale a deep breath.

You're expecting either of two things: an apology, or for him to call you fucking crazy. Instead, what you get is:

"... Are you grinding on me right now?"

What? That's ridiculous. Laughable, really. Why would you be—

Oh, shit, you are.

In the midst of your tangent, you'd hardly noticed the way your hips had started to gyrate. Little circles of your hips, just enough to stimulate you. The movement was involuntary; grinding down against the thigh you're perched upon, little sparks of pleasure mixing with that guilt in your stomach. Fuck.

"N-no—" You stammer, cheeks flushed at the realisation.

"I can feel it. You are," he insists incredulously. And when your grip on his throat tightens in retaliation (or embarrassment), he just smirks this time. "Oh my god. You're enjoying this."

"Don't be so fucking ridiculous," you shoot back, your hips stilling. Somewhere deep down, you're disappointed by the loss of friction.

His hands finally leave the tanned wicker of the chair. Not to push you off, though. Instead, you find a pair of firm hands holding you in place, grinding you down hard against his thigh. Your own hand tightens instinctively, a pair of stuttered gasps synchronising between you.

"You're insane. Stop it."

"Am I? You're the one that's wet."

Touché. Your cheeks burn harder. There's just enough light coming from a lamp post to illuminate your mortified expression. All you can do is stammer over your words in an attempt to salvage your dignity.

"Yeah, well... well you're hard!" Good comeback.

You aren't wrong, though. You can feel his cock pressing against your thigh through the fabric of his shorts. You pointedly ignore the little thrill you feel when you realise how big it feels.

"Because you're choking me."

You stare at him incredulously for him a moment. "... You're sick."

"And yet you haven't stopped."

No, you haven't. Your hands are still wrapped around his throat, and you haven't made any attempts to stop the way he keeps grinding you down against his thigh. If you sat up long enough to look, you'd see the damp patch of slick you've transferred onto the cotton.

"Just... just shut up!" You repeat.

He just smiles crookedly. "You gonna keep saying that, or are you gonna make me?"

A moment of staring, and then your mouths are clashing together. There's no method behind it; just teeth and noses bumping together, stray tongues licking at lips and into mouths. Gasps and moans each time you grind against his thigh.

It shouldn't be happening. You hate him. You do. But just because he's an insufferable asshole doesn't mean he's ugly, and there's something oddly cathartic about the way his eyes flutter when your hand squeezes or he groans into your mouth when your knee presses against his erection.

"Sit up," he pants against your mouth. Against your better judgement, you find yourself obliging. One knee on each side of his thighs as he pushes his shorts out of the way.

Between the darkness and the angle, you can't see what he's doing. Your breath hitches when the rubs the head of his cock against your panties. They're so soaked it hardly feels like there's a boundary there at all.

"Can I?"

"Yeah."

Your reply is a little too fast, but he seems too focused on pushing your underwear to the side to mock you. Besides, mocking is what got you both into this whole mess. Your forehead thumps against his when the blunt head slides between your folds to tease at your entrance, breath stuttering.

Your hands slide to his shoulders for purchase, and you swear you see a flicker of disappointment cross his face. It's so brief you can't be sure as you sink down onto his cock, head tilted back with a groan at the sheer size of him. It takes a few moments to ease yourself down, and the stretch is almost blinding.

He waits for your hips to be flush together to make any sly remarks. "Big enough for you?"

"Shut the fuck up," you reply, voice rough.

He laughs. It's equally as strained.

And then you're riding him. It starts off slow enough for you to adjust at your own pace, just grinding back down against him. Patrick lives up to his asshole reputation, though—his hands find your hips to hold you in place and soon enough he's pulling you down against him, his hips bucking up to meet you.

You're vaguely aware of the fact anyone could still be awake and take a peek out the window, but it doesn't stop your hand from sliding down between you to circle your clit mindlessly. Your head lolls back, sweet moans filling the air each time he drives up into you.

Patrick, on the other hand, is watching you with rapt attention. Grunting and panting while he drinks up every sound and expression, his grip just short of bruising every time you're brought back down onto his cock.

"Fuck. You're so hot like this," he grits out.

"Bet you've been thinking about this," you shoot back breathlessly.

"Hell yeah I have," comes his unabashed reply. "Every time you're going off on your feminist bullshit. Or calling me a brat."

"You are a brat."

There's a glint in his eye. "Treat me like one, then."

So you do. Your fingers curl back around his throat as he fucks up into you; his reaction is almost instantaneous. Eyes fluttering shut, lips parted in a soundless moan, his pace faltering for just a moment before he catches himself.

"Yeah. Yeah, just like fuckin' that."

It's not long before you're both nearing your peaks. You can hardly focus on keeping a good grip with how desperately your other hand is rubbing your clit, knees digging into the wicker. You can feel the indents forming against your skin.

"Close—" You manage to warn.

"Yeah? Y'gonna cum on my cock?"

"Jesus, stop with the fucking dirty talk."

He laughs. Hoarse. Unrepentant. "Sorry. Used to fucking people that like to hear my voice."

To his credit, he does shut up for the next minute or so. It's just the sound of you both moaning senselessly and chasing your highs, until he shifts the angle just right and—

"G-God, yeah, right there. I'm gonna—"

"Cum?"

You'd glare at him if it weren't for the abrupt fluttering of your walls around his length. "Fuck, Patrick, oh—" And then your vision is whiting out and you're gushing around him.

His name on your tongue is almost enough to do him over. Almost.

"Choke me. C'mon, I'm so close," he whines, hips stuttering upwards into you. You feel like your brains have been fucked out, but you have just enough sense to comprehend the request. And then you're squeezing and watching the whites of his eyes appear.

A few more jolts of his hips and your name is cried out as he comes undone. You can feel the hot warmth filling your cunt, and he continues to pull you down onto him to milk out his orgasm. Moaning pathetically with his head tipped over the back of the chair.

And then it's just the sound of you both panting as both of your hands release each other. You shift off awkwardly, ignoring the whine he makes and the way the sudden emptiness has you feeling the same way. You stumble to your feet, yanking your dress down and peering at the crosshatching on your knees.

At least you're both sporting evidence of the encounter. Patrick's neck is sporting a reddening print, the start of little bruises forming where your fingers pressed too hard. Now you have to look at that for the rest of your vacation.

Great.

You swallow thickly. "Just to be clear, I still think you're an asshole."

He nods, like he hadn't even considered otherwise. "Yeah, I know. But I think you like that about me."

"Patrick—"

"Kidding." His hands raise in mock surrender. "Just get your pretty ass to bed. I've had enough of you yelling at me for one night."

You scoff. You aren't sure whether it's out of contempt or amusement. But you turn on your heels, shaking your head as you finally start back towards the beach house the way you'd intended to fifteen minutes ago.

You're making your way up the steps when he calls out behind you: "But we're doing this again, right?"

"In your dreams." You shoot him your middle finger over your shoulder. His laugh rings out as you trudge up towards the house on wobbly legs.

He watches you go, and it's only when you're safely inside that he mutters under his breath.

"... Bitch."

—

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