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reveriexxgirlly · 5 months

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omg hold on i love you so much i hope you are well. so i was sleeping peacefully in my bed today and suddenly this came to mind and i found myself on the floor.

it doesn't necessarily have to be sub Miguel, but i NEED NEED NEED a reader who has a sex stamina higher than burj khalifa. so miguel gets frustrated and overstimulated by the time its over, whining and trying to push her off of his lap type of shit because its his 4th or 5th orgasm. BUT HE WON'T, YKNOW WHY? BECAUSE HE IS HORRNY. BECAUSE ITS SEX AND IT IS GOOD SEX LIKE GAD DAYMMM

thank you

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Overstimulation, Creampie, A Second of Fingering

Summary: Who is he to deny good sex?

Word Count: 725 (Not Edited)

He doesn’t know how much more he can take.

He’s surprised that he can even cum still. You’ve been at this for hours, greedily milking his cock and mewling at him. It’s fucking amazing. It’s like some shit his teenage mind would jerk off too. Some bizarre porn video concept. Except, this is real and he’s more of a mess than he thought he would be.

He started out on top, fucking your desperate pussy until tears flowed from your eyes. He has the scratch marks on his back to prove it, raised and red. But after his second orgasm and your fourth, you still wanted more. But he was so tired, deeply satisfied as cock almost went numb from pleasure. But you looked so sad, giving him that cute little pout that he can never say no to. So, to summarize, his own weakness is to blame for his current situation.

You’re desperately bouncing on his cock, no signs of slowing down. He’s flat on his back, moaning and groaning as he tries to get a steady grip on your hips. His cock is on fire, overstimulated and tired. It’s creamy with your combined cum, making loud squelches everytime you impale yourself on his dick. You won’t shut up, mouth dropped open as you scream and moan. Miguel is approaching his fifth orgasm, and he doesn’t know if there will be much cum left in him to fill you up with.

“Fuck, fuck, mi querida, let up. Gonna actually milk me dry if you don’t fucking stop.” Miguel whines, his hand moving to press on your stomach in a weak effort to push you off.

You shake your head and whimper, holding his hand there with both of your own. You use your hold as leverage, still moving up and down on him. Miguel moans out when he can feel where he makes your skin bulge, his orgasm rushing down his spine. You’re whimpering out ‘please’ over and over again, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finish. He feels the way your walls flutter and squeeze around him, earning a dying groan from him as it triggers his own release.

His hips buck up weakly, spurting the very last drops of his cum into you. Both of you are panting, Miguel’s cock begging to be freed from your vice grip. You rotate your hips, softly mewling when his cock skims over your g-spot. Miguel protests as you work his cock, trying to hold your hips still to stop you.

You lean down and kiss him, that hungry look still in your eyes, “So, so good, Miggy. That felt real good.”

Miguel can only hum in agreement weakly, his head thrown back against the sheets as he tries to regain himself. He gasps as you get up, slowly removing yourself off his cock with a soft pop. Miguel’s cock is semi-hard when he hits his stomach, still coated with cum. He can feel it softening further, his cock throbbing from overuse.

Suddenly, you gasp loudly. It echoes off the walls, a sharp and unexpected noise. Miguel’s head shoots up to see if you’re hurt.

Miguel groans when he sees and feels what had you gasping. You’re still hovering over him, knees on either side of his hips. Cum fucking flows out of you, finally being able to escape your flooded hole. It’s white and thick, running down your thighs and forming a puddle under you. It splatters on Miguel’s skin, and his cock jumps and hardens at the sight. Miguel lets out a tired sigh, grabbing your hips and stuffing a finger into you. You cry out, face blissed out as he fucks the cum back into you.

“Fucking minx, you’re insatiable.” He grumbles, pulling his finger out and wiping it on the skin of your thigh.

You whimper, quickly turning it into a scream as he seats you back onto his raw cock. His cock stings, fighting in protest. His body is tired and he’s sure he only has dry orgasms left in him. But he doesn’t seem to care, especially when you instantly start riding him again. It feels good, so good. Real good. He falls back into his weakness again, whining and cursing.

He’s just a man after all, and what good man passes up on pornstar-level sex?

#yo

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reveriexxgirlly · 6 months

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i’ve seen multiple times people writing smut fics about mike and putting shit about them like almost getting caught by abby and like… don’t do that? thrill of getting caught i totally get, but like why would it be exciting for you to possibly be caught by a CHILD? an adult yeah understandable that’s fine. but a fucking child? a young girl that doesn’t understand what sex is or what’s happening, you find it hot that she might catch you? it’s just so gross, i know it’s fiction but like the second i see a mention of abby in a smut fic i’m so wary. do better guys, stop writing gross creepy scenarios where abby almost catches you and mike.

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reveriexxgirlly · 7 months

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Me in a nutshell

(I don’t normally write but i kinda wanna write about him 👀)

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reveriexxgirlly · 7 months

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this fic left me like:

I need more Eddie Munson x Hispanic!Reader because this is so beautiful !!

Hispanic/Latina!Reader

Summary: Eddie is sick, and your mom makes you figure out how to cure him yourself.

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: I tried to provide context clues as to what the Spanish words and phrases used mean without writing a glossary. It also seems no matter how vague I try to keep reader, the Mexican influence just bleeds through. I hope you can forgive me and still enjoy! Let me know if you do!

Banner by @loveshotzz, divider by @jo-harrington

Eddie Munson was as hard headed as they come. You warned him many times he would get sick, but he never yielded your advice.

“Put some shoes on,” you’d tell him. “You’ll get sick walking on cold tile with bare feet.”

Eddie winked and said that was an old wive’s tale and it hadn’t happened to him in all his years of being shoeless in tiled homes. He’d do something similar when you chastised him for going outside in the cold with wet hair.

“I never get sick,” he bragged. “You worry too much. I’ll be fine!”

So when he called on Thursday night to let you know he wouldn’t be around the following day to visit you at work because he was--as you said he would be--sick, you couldn’t help but remind him of all the times you predicted it.

“A ver. I told you,” you said sternly through the phone receiver.. “But noooooo. Eddie Munson never gets sick. Immune system worthy of ten thousand warriors, no? Something along those lines, wasn’t it?”

The sound of Eddie’s loud and sticky cough put an end to your teasing. He really did sound bad. When he recovered, he sniffled loudly. “I know. You were--” he paused again to cough a few more times, followed by less than sexy hawking and spitting. “--right.”

You frowned, twisting the cord around your finger. “Is your uncle there?”

Eddie snorted, sending himself into another coughing fit.

“I’ll take that as a no,” you muttered into the phone. You felt bad for Eddie, knowing that he was suffering alone at home with no one to help him with whatever he needed. To make sure he was drinking, eating, and not being overtaken by fever. He had no one to take care of him.

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” you announced. “Just for a little while.”

“Don’t,” Eddie choked. “You’ll get sick too.”

“Pfft,” you chuckled. “No, I won’t.”

“You have work tomorrow.” he reminded you.

Oh yeah. That. “Not anymore. I’ll ask someone to switch with me.”

“Y/N--”

“Eddie,” you mocked. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Try to live until then, okay?”

Eddie cleared his throat. “I’ll try, sweetheart.”

You grinned triumphantly at your success and bid him a good night. You wished you could go over there now, but your idea on how to help would take some time.

Nearly skipping into the kitchen, you saw Mamá with her pink ruffled apron tied around her waist bent over the sink washing dishes.

“Eddie’s sick,” you told her. “Can you make him some Caldo?”

Mamá looked at you as if you asked her for a million dollars—eyes bulging and her mouth twisted into a scowl. “No!”

“Como que ‘no’?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest. “You make caldo when I’m sick.”

“Si, por mi hija,” she agreed. “Not for her boyfriend.”

You grabbed the dry dishrag from beside her and began to dry the freshly rinsed dishes. “Why not?”

Mama clicked her tongue against her teeth, waving the wet, soapy rag dismissively at you. “Cuéntele ‘sana sana colita de rana’ y ya.”

You stared at her incredulously. Saying ‘heal, heal, little frog tail, if you don’t heal today, you’ll heal tomorrow’ was not helpful in this situation as it was used for little children who bumped their head or something. Not suitable for a grown man who sounded like he was fighting for every breath.

You tried to appeal to her nurturing side by telling her all about Eddie’s lack of family. A hard working Uncle that was never home, no mother, no father, no sister to take care of him. Just a few things he told you when the two of you first started talking. It didn’t take a genius to see that Eddie was lonely even in the company of his few friends, and you instantly wanted to show him what it was like to be cared for. It took some time, but little by little Eddie started to open up, most of them with a scoff and shrug as if what he went through wasn’t a big deal at all.

You hated to see how dim his light was when he hung up his mask. He had a lot to offer and was worthy of all the love in the world. Someone had to make him see it. But the thought of anyone else getting to see him this vulnerable left the bitter taste of jealousy in your mouth.

Not to mention he was crazy and really fuckin cute. He blushed something terrible whenever you told him that, and nearly fainted when you gave him a peck on the cheek, even now after about a month or two of dating.

“Aye, mas trieste,” she said solemnly. “Pero no. If you want him to eat, you feed him.”

You wrinkled your nose. Caldo de res took a few hours to make and involved a lot of washing and chopping vegetables you were hoping to get out of doing yourself.

“Will you come to the store with me?” you asked sweetly, blinking with much exaggeration to try and flutter your lashes.

“No,” Mama grumbled. “You know what to buy.”

Annoyed, you made sure to be as noisy as possible, sighing and stomping into your shoes to let her know you were displeased with being sent out alone before departing the house and making your way to the store.

Living in Indiana was not like living in the states closer to home. Some vegetables and spices were not readily available, and more often than not you were looked at by the locals like something smelly that didn’t belong. You tried not to let it bother you, but going to the store by yourself exacerbated the anxiety of being around the general population of Hawkins.

There were some things you couldn’t get, but you were satisfied with what you did find. A small jar of eucalyptus cream in its signature blue jar with the teal top, a fever reducer that you’d never tell Mama you bought, and Sprite as well as the ingredients for the stew. Zucchini, onion, cabbage, corn, carrots, garlic, potatoes, the beef shanks, cilantro, and beef broth. Luckily Mama kept the lime tree in the yard alive for the family to have supply on demand when needed, and a small little shrub of jalapenos.

You awoke early in the morning thanks to your six o’clock alarm. Caldo took hours to get the taste just right, and you wanted to get to Eddie as soon as possible.

Beef simmering in the quarts of beef broth, you began washing the vegetables and dicing them to the appropriate size. It was so tedious and boring, even with the music playing. You could see why Mama always asked you to come into the kitchen to talk whenever she was making dinner. It was lonely.

But only for a little while. Once you found a rhythm, soon hearing the thack of the knife against the wooden cutting board was almost therapeutic, and soon you found yourself lost in thought.

As the time ticked by, nervousness started to seep in. What if Eddie didn’t like the food you spent all morning on? You’d be devastated. A little more than that, preparing food for him like this seemed extremely intimate. It took so much time, work, and now you really understood what it meant when people said ‘made with love’. You were sharing a piece of yourself with him, and the thought of him not liking it or pretending he did was disheartening. It wouldn’t just be a rejection of culture, but an essential part of who you are.

You tried not to think too much about it, deciding that if he didn’t want the Caldo, you could just bring it back home and eat it with your family. It wouldn’t last two minutes if the twins decided to come around later.

When the stew started to look near ready, you began to season it little by little. You wished you could find a store that sold ground achiote, knowing it would fill the little void of flavor you were missing.

You asked Mamá to come taste the soup. She peered into the large pot and sniffed. “It looks okay. Give me a bite.”

You ensured to get a good amount of broth and a bit of cabbage on the spoon, but was instantly chastised when you made an attempt to feed Mamá.

“Estás loca!” she exclaimed loudly. “Con carne!”

Rolling your eyes, you added a small piece of beef to the spoon.

Mamá took the spoon and held it up as if to say cheers. “Ya que puedes cocinar, ya te puedes casar.”

Your cheeks burned at the statement--If you can cook you can get married. “I’m not trying to marry him, Má.”

Mamá ignored your retort and finally tasted the Caldo. She chewed it thoughtfully before giving her advice. “Más sal y limon, pero está bien. Estás lista casar.”

“Stop talking about getting married!” you huffed. “What if he doesn’t like it, anyway?”

Mama shrugged. “More for us then.”

---

By one o’clock you were standing at the front door of the Munson’s trailer with your hands full. You awkwardly tried to knock by kicking the base of the door, but it didn’t seem to have been loud enough for Eddie to hear. Eventually you gave up trying to knock with your foot, and unloaded the goods onto the creaky wooden deck to do it properly.

Yet no one came. There was no noise or shuffling within the house. The only thing that made you think Eddie was still home was his van parked in front of the trailer.

You gave the small brass knob of the door an experimental turn. It gave away easily, clearly unlocked.

Would he be mad if you just walked it? Maybe he was in the shower or asleep and couldn’t hear you. If he did get upset, you could just let him know that holding a ten quart pot and a bag of other junk to help cure him was too heavy to carry for long.

You pushed the door open, reloaded your arms with the things you brought with you and stepped inside.

It wasn’t your first time in the Munson home, but it was the first time you saw it this dreary. No lights on except the soft glow of the yellow lamp in the living room, the counters littered with food wrappers, beer cans, and scattered mail. If this is what Eddie had to come home to every evening, no wonder he felt so lonely. Your house was nothing like this. Mama always had music playing or her novellas on at high volume to hear from any room in the house. If the overhead light wasn’t on, there were at least candles to create warmth and soothing aromas. And there were always people over. Cousins, aunts, uncles, neighbors--there was always a guest somewhere.

You wanted Eddie to have that. Warmth, comfort, and love.

There was no sign of him in the immediate area, likely asleep. You placed the large pot of caldo on the stove and turned the burner on to keep it hot, and placed the cans of sprite in the fridge.

Treading carefully down the hallway towards Eddie’s room, you knocked lightly and then a little harder with no response. Once again intruding, you gently pushed open the door, and gasped at the sight before you.

The sour smell of sweat immediately wafted your way. Eddie didn’t even look alive in his current state. Shirtless body half hanging from the edge of his bed, knuckles brushing against the carpeted floor. Stepping closer, you saw that his back was slick and his normally frizzy hair was soaked with sweat.

You pressed your palm to his sticky skin at the base of his neck and frowned. The heat radiating from him was scalding.

“Ay, amor,” you gasped to yourself, shifting his hair that stuck to the side of his face. He was sweating there too. Lips parted and dry as he breathed raggedly through his mouth.

You gently tried to wake him, rubbing your thumbs over his searing cheeks and speaking sweetly to him, but it didn’t work. So you found a rag in the small bathroom and drenched it with cool water to dab against his forehead.

After a few seconds, Eddie’s lashes started to flutter open. When he blinked himself awake enough to recognize you, he whined. “Am I dead?”

“Almost, but not quite,” you answered sadly. You moved the cool rag to the back of his neck. “I brought you food and medicine. Think you can get out of bed?”

Eddie whimpered incoherently, not moving a muscle.

“How about this,” you proposed. “I run you a shower--hot or cold, your choice--and while you’re in there, I’ll put these sheets in to wash. Put on some new ones so you can come right back to bed. You don’t even have to use soap--just get in the water and cool down this fever. What do you think of that?”

Eddie’s brown eyes glossed over with what looked like unshed tears. “You don’t have to do all that. I’m fine.”

Gently pressing your lips to his forehead in a soft kiss, you disagreed. “I want to. Now come on. Andale Pues.”

Eddie grumbled and groaned as he rolled off of the bed, not caring at all as he crashed onto the floor. You tried to help him up, but instantly stopped when you realized he was only in his boxers.

You hadn’t seen Eddie without pants like this before. You’d only been dating for a short while and hadn’t done more than some making out. Seeing him in plaid blue and white underwear sent a heat up your neck and face that rivaled Eddie’s fever.

Instead of watching him try to hoist himself up using the door frame, you went into the bathroom to start the water, and when he vacated his bedroom, you quickly busied yourself with stripping the bed of the soaked sheets to avoid thinking about Eddie being naked on the other side of the wall.

You waited in the kitchen for him to let you know he was decent and in his freshly made bed. It took him almost an hour to get out of the shower. The energy expelled to get into it nearly wiped him out, and he spent most of his time in there recovery enough to be able to get out.

When you entered the bedroom with your hands full, Eddie looked--and smelled--a lot better. He still coughed and hacked a bit, but he no longer looked like he was seconds away from death.

You set down the bowl of caldo onto his nightstand. With two small pills of acetaminophen in your hand, you held your palm out to Eddie and an open can of sprite in the other. “Take it. But don’t tell my mom I gave it to you. She doesn’t like medicine.”

Eddie did as he was told without question, though he did look a little confused when you told him to lay on his back.

You opened the blue jar of eucalyptus cream and scooped a large glob onto your fingers. “Mamá swears by this stuff. It’s all she ever used on us as kids. It’ll make you feel better, but its a little cold at first.”

The annoying stinging in your cheek returned as you dabbed the cream onto Eddie’s tattooed chest. You massaged the scented ointment into his skin slowly, using strong broad circles. You’d never gotten to touch him like this, and you were taking in the art that decorated him--tracing the spider by his collar bone and making sure to outline every detail of the ugly skull that sat high on his pec. Eddie seemed to be enjoying himself. His eyes were closed and he let little moans here and there that sent a wave of sticky desire between your legs.

“Feels good,” Eddie moaned. “I can breathe better already.”

You smiled, a little sad that the salve was already absorbing into his skin and ending your little impromptu massage. Wiping your hands on your jeans, you reached to get the bowl and bring it to your lap.

“Now this is Caldo de Res,” you said proudly. “It’s wonderful. Mamá for some reason likes to make it on the hottest day of the year, but it works miracles when you’re sick.”

Eddie peered into the bowl. “I don’t think I’ve even that many vegetables at once in my life.”

Your lips twitched into a frown. “Do you not want to try it?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Of course I wanna try it,” he said quickly. He took the bowl from your hand, making you nervous as he brought a large bite to his mouth.

“Mmm,” he hummed, nodding his head slowly. “S’hot but it’s good. Really good.”

A part of you didn’t believe him until he kept shoveling it in, not even pausing to take a breath. When you suggested he slow down to avoid hurting himself, Eddie smiled sheepishly.

“Hungry,” he blushed. “Haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

If he didn’t have piping hot soup in his hand you would have smacked his shoulder. “You have to eat! Especially when you’re sick!”

Eddie shrugged, still smiling into the food before him. “Well I’m glad I didn’t so I could eat this--what did you call it?”

“Caldo de res. Or just Caldo,” you answered with a smile. “You really do like it?”

“I’m trying not to eat it all so I can savor it. Whatever you put on me has opened my nose up enough so I can taste. It’s fuckin good, babe.”

You beamed proudly. “There’s more, you know. About two gallons worth in the kitchen.”

Eddie’s face lit up. “Really? In that case…” He abandoned the spoon and drank straight from the bowl until there was nothing left.

“You’re a mess,” you teased, wiping the wetness from his chin with the rag from earlier. “Want more?”

“Please?”

You obliged his request and returned with a second serving. Eddie didn’t wait for you to sit back down on his bed before diving in. He asked you what was in it and how long it took to make.

“Four hours?” he repeated with wide eyes, a piece of cabbage dangling from his lip.

“Well, a little more than that to get the rich flavor,” you shrugged. “But it’s good, no? Worth the wait.”

Eddie lowered his head, scraping the ceramic dish with the metal silverware. “No one’s ever done that for me before.”

You raised your brow. “Made you food?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Not like that. I mean, no one has gone out and made something special for me. That took so long to make. And so much of it.” He sniffled loudly before locking eyes with you. “Thank you.”

You thought your heart couldn’t ache any more for him, and yet he proved you wrong. There were no words that came to mind, only actions to show him what you felt.

“If you weren’t sick, I’d kiss you,” you frowned, picking at the piling in the blanket.

“If I wasn’t sick, I’d let you,” he smiled.

It took a third serving of caldo before Eddie was full. You took his dirty dishes to the kitchen and put away the rest of the stew for him and his uncle to eat at their leisure.

A strong sense of pride washed over you. Eddie accepting your silly little soup was far more meaningful than perhaps it should be, but it felt like acceptance on a whole new level. You wanted to go home and tell Mamá, but then again, you wanted to keep this moment to yourself without having marriage being brought up again. Though the idea sent butterflies to your stomach now instead of dread.

You returned to his room to say goodbye, but Eddie wasn’t having it.

“C’mon, you said yourself you won’t get sick. Just lay with me for a minute,” he pleaded, purposely making his brown eyes even more irresistible.

You didn’t want to say no or pass up the opportunity to be close with him, even if he did smell so strongly of eucalyptus that it burned your eyes.

So you laid down next to him and let him rest his head on your chest, your fingers threaded through his hair gently drawing circles against his scalp.

“Thank you again, mi corazon,” Eddie sighed happily.

Your heart stopped, never having heard that term of endearment from him before. “Where did you learn that?”

Eddie snorted. “Turns out Gio and Pancho aren’t totally useless when it comes to teaching me Spanish.”

You giggled at the thought of how that conversation went, and were surprised that Eddie didn’t accidentally call you something along the lines of ‘hairy balls’ instead.

“De nada, mi amor,” you said, pressing a few quick kisses to his hairline.

Tagging las primas: @2clones-1kamino @thirddeadlysin @pastel-pillows @blackwidownat2814 @beep-beep-sherlock @sidthedollface2

#got me giggling crying and vomiting all at once #quite literally a work of art #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x Hispanic!Reader

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reveriexxgirlly · 7 months

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it's almost too late for me to say happy cock day

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reveriexxgirlly · 8 months

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This got me feeling some type of way

♡ uh-huh ♡

thinking about pussy drunk!miguel who agrees to everything you say as long as you keep fucking him like that<33

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ ONLY, SPOILERS? i guess?, NO use of y/n f!reader, rough unprotected sex, riding, swearing, ooc!miguel probably, messy & lazy writing you already know:)), not proofread

a/n : it's been a LOOONG time since I wrote smut so please keep in mind that it's gonna be trash LMFAO (also i know i have a ton of requests in my inbox but i couldn't help myself with this man, this just came to me)

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any misspells, errors or grammatically incorrect sentences.

banner credit : @cafekitsune

“Miguel, are you even listening to me?” you pout down at him, the rolling of your hips never stopping.

“Shit-not particularly no.” he hisses when he feels you squeeze around him, and you run your hands up and down his chest as you tilt your head. “Miles has a point y'know. Maybe you should hear him out.”

Miguel is so lost at the feel of your pussy that he can hardly hear anything beside the sound of skin meeting skin, and his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He can barely keep his eyes open, but he forces himself just to watch your pretty cunt swallow up his cock greedily, his mouth open and brows furrowed prettily.

“Miguel!” you whine out both in exasperation and pleasure, and he groans out your own name lowly, raising his hips to meet the rolls of your own. “Just like that, bebita, s'fucking good f'r me..”

“You're still-fuck- not listening…” you moan, grinding down at him, feeling tears gather in your eyes when you see Miguel lick the pad of his thumb, eyes hooded and so fucking dumb, just to bring his hand to your clit and rub figure eights messily.

“How can I? Pussy's squeezing me so well- mierda.. y're killin' me,” he clamps a hand on your hip to help guide you against his cock, his other messing up his hair as he runs it through his damp locks, sweat running down his eyebrow.

He lets out the prettiest moan when he looks up at you, having half the mind to bend you over and rail you till he's given you everything. You, with your perfect tits bouncing with each roll and grind of your hips, paired with that teasing smile of yours, is enough to make a grown man cry.

“Gimme a kiss,” he utters, and you grin as you lower yourself, your tits getting squished against his chest. He grabs the side of your head, your breathing mixing together as you come impossibly close. Just as your lips are about to touch, you pull back the slightest bit and his eyebrows give the slightest twitch.

“Are you gonna give Miles a chance?” he groans and pushes his head away childishly, “Can you please not talk about that kid when we're fucking? Jesus.”

You slow the rolls of your hips, before coming to a full stop, your shoulders shaking as you laugh against his neck. “I didn’t hear a no..” you raise your head to catch his gaze, to find that he’s purposefully not meeting your eyes, jaw locked stubbornly.

“No. Now can we please go back to you riding me? That’d be great.”

“Well, you’re not listening to me, so why should I?”

“Are you serious? We really gonna do this? Now?”

You shrug, clamping down on him suddenly, and he sputters, cock pulsing appreciatively. “That’s not fair.” he grits his teeth.

“What’s not fair is wanting to save your loved ones but being told no by some ridiculous universal rule that-mmf” your rambling gets cut off as Miguel kisses you, thrusting up at you hard. His tongue muffles your moans as he continues pistoning his cock in and out of your pussy, keeping you in place with a hand on your ass.

“You know why I can’t, bebita, don’t make me do this..” he hisses out, trying to concentrate on fucking you till you forget all about that stupid kid.

“What if- oh fffuck,” you moan, eyes rolling back as he keeps hitting that one spot deep inside your pussy, “What if it was me?” your question seems to catch him off guard as he halts all movements “What?”

Miguel knew the consequences of his actions, and he’d learned them the hard way. He wasn’t heartless, he knew what that kid was going through was hard, and it was about to become a lot worse. You asking him to put you in that situation, even if it was imaginary, made his mind short-circuit. He couldn’t lose you, ever. But he also knew he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. This was bigger than you and him. The whole multiverse as you know it would be at stake. But he’d find a way. He’d find a way for you. If there was a way, then maybe… he could try to hear Miles out. (he hated himself for even admitting that inside his head)

“Wouldn’t you try to save me baby?” with his concentration slipping, you got the chance to take back full control, as you started bouncing on his cock at a bruising pace, “Save this pussy?” the whimper Miguel let out was a good enough answer, but you were greedy. “Huh, baby?”

“Uh-huh, yeah.. ffuck yes, would turn the whole world upside down f’r you…. Please, Oh fuck please, just keep fuckin’ me like that…” the sounds coming out of him turned feral- and he didn’t even realize you positioned his hands over your tits, till he squeezed the supple flesh in his hands and moaned, the muscles in his arms flexing violently.

“Yeah? Not gonna let me go, baby?” you laugh giddily, leaning back to support yourself with your hands on his thick thighs, circling your hips as he’s balls deep inside you.

His hands slide around your back when he sits up suddenly, and you gasp, clawing at his shoulders for support, and he snarls “Never.”

The pace you both set has both of you panting and moaning uncontrollably, with you grinding your hips down to meet his each time he thrusts up, his fat balls slapping your ass every single time.

“Who knows,” you feel Miguel utter against your hair, “maybe I’d let the whole fuckin’ universe collapse for you, cariño..” A shiver runs down your spine and you throw your head back and moan. He chuckles breathlessly, groaning when he feels you clamp around him impossibly tight. “Shit, that’s bad, huh? Maybe I should change careers-fuck,”

“Are you gonna come, baby? Cause ‘m coming for you, gonna fill you up so well,”

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

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reveriexxgirlly · 8 months

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"Self insert characters are cringe"

Bro I'm trying to survive capitalism with maladaptive daydreaming. Leave me alone.

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reveriexxgirlly · 8 months

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The absolute level of cunt in this picture needs to be studied

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reveriexxgirlly · 8 months

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ily femmes with hairy legs femmes with a full bush femmes with armpit hair femmes with hair on their chins and upper lips femmes with hair on their hands and knuckles femmes with happy trails etc etc

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reveriexxgirlly · 10 months

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Holy fuck.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, blowjob, handjob, deepthroating, cum-eating, implied pornography, language, use of Y/n, let Jesus in your life

If you film me while I suck it - you could be a superstar

Press play to start the video

*Click*

The picture was dark and blurry for the first ten seconds, making it nearly impossible to distinguish what exactly was happening on the screen. Some muffled sounds of fabric rustling and quiet murmurs could be heard coming from the speakers, making everything even more confusing.

Finally camera came to focus, and on the screen appeared a face of a young woman - Y/n’s cheeks were dusted with bright pink hue and a sheen of sweat covered her forehead and temples as if she was working out intensely. Her hair was out of place, a few unruly strands sticking out in different places, only adding to her disheveled look. Pretty e/c eyes shone brightly under flashlight of the phone camera as she looked up - not into the camera, but slightly above it - on the operator.

Suddenly a big veiny hand appeared in the corner of a picture, reaching out to cup young woman’s face, a thumb coming to rub on her cheek affectionately, making Y/n’s reddened lips stretch in a wide smile. Operator slowly dragged his finger down her cheek, brushing roughened pad over Y/n’s lower lip; she opened her mouth, taking man’s digit inside. Her eyes fluttered closed as she sucked on his thumb softly, rosy cheeks hollowing with exertion and precision.

- Look at you, baby. So eager to please.. - a silky, slightly hoarse voice of cameraman droned on, causing Y/n to open her eyes. She let go of thumb in her mouth with a loud “pop”, snuggling her cheek into male’s huge hand.

- Wanna make you feel good, Miggy… - she purred, her small hands could be seen in the background crawling up Miguel’s thighs, pretty doe eyelashes batting up at him.

- Then do it, - Miguel said promptly, shifting in his place as to get a better angle for the video.

Y/n’s lips curled up in satisfied grin at man’s permission, her hands coming up to prominent bulge in his pants, rubbing it through layers of fabric. Loud sigh could be heard in the background, Miguel shifted his legs a bit, splaying them further apart, allowing Y/n more space for her ministrations.

Button and zipper on cameraman’s jeans were skillfully undid in a matter of few seconds and soon Y/n hooked her fingers underneath the waistband, tugging it down. Miguel shifted his hips up to help her undress him, and, once free from confines of clothing, his cock sprinted right up and laying onto his lower stomach, where a pretty happy trail could be seen running from bellybutton and further down, forming little dark bush at the base. Thick pink tip was perfectly visible on the video, a bead of precum on top of it glistened in a bright ray of the flashlight.

Y/n didn’t bother taking Miguel’s pants all the way off, just tugging them below his knees and leaving them there, preoccupied with other - more interesting things. One of her hands came up to Miguel’s crotch, manicured fingers wrapping themselves around thick throbbing shaft of his cock, not able to fully enclose around it. Man let out a prolonged sigh as Y/n started working her hand up and dow his length, stopping a bit at the tip, giving it some special attention, her other hand came to play with his heavy balls.

- Come on, cariño. Stop teasing, - man behind the camera grunted out, same hand reappeared on the screen, tucking some of Y/n’s hair behind her ear, coming to rest on the back of her head afterwards.

Woman in the video smiled at operator’s words, but complied nevertheless; lolling her pink tongue out she licked a thick stripe leading from the base to the tip of Miguel’s cock. Taking all of his massive tip inside of her awaiting mouth, Y/n started suckling softly on it circling her tongue around sensitive slit. A throaty moan rumbled out from within Miguel’s chest, his thighs twitched slightly as Y/n lowered onto this shaft, taking more of him in her mouth. Hand that he kept on woman’s nape tangled itself into her silky hair, not tugging nor pulling, but simply holding her in place.

Squelching wet sounds along with heavy breathing and muffled whines poured out of speakers as Y/n started bobbing her head up and down, with every dip taking more and more of man’s length inside of her slutty moth. Loud gagging noise rang through the air as Y/n bobbed lower than ever before, her tight throat wrapping around Miguel’s needy cock, taking almost all of him in. A truly pornographic moan slipped off operator’s lips; visible part of his stomach was flexed, thick abs protruding from under brown skin.

With a loud squelching noise Y/n got off Miguel’s impressive length, erupting into a coughing fit; a thick shiny string of saliva connected her lower lip to the tip of man’s cock, breaking soon and leaving a wet splotch across her chin. Woman on the visor inhaled sharply a few times, trying to even out her breathing as both her hands were working all over thick, glossy with her spit shaft. She gazed up into the camera, looking as pretty as ever - eyes wide and wet with tears, lips puffy and shiny, cheeks a deeper shade of pink than before.

- Fucking hell, princesa, look what you do to me. Think you can open that pretty throat again? - man behind the camera slurred out, his voice trembling slightly.

Y/n nodded eagerly and without wasting anymore time she took last deep breath before aligning fat tip of Miguel’s dick to her lips, sinking onto his twitching length slowly, opening her throat to take as much of him inside as possible. She looked up onto cameraman, her mouth stretched wide open around his cock, nose almost bumping his pubic, taking all of his 7 inches down her throat.

And here she did something Miguel certainly didn’t expect - she swallowed with her throat still stuffed full with his heavy cock, her pharyngeal cartilages dragging deliciously against needy shaft, making his whole body twitch in pleasure.

- Hoooly fuuuck. Fuckfuckfuck, ‘m gonna cum, please… - Miguel begged, unstable picture of the video gave out his hands trembling ferociously, hips bucking up into Y/n’s skilled mouth as he chased his high desperately.

Fighting off gagging reflex Y/n proceeded bobbing her head up and down Miguel’s throbbing cock, impaling her mouth on his rock-hard shaft over and over again, grazing her teeth softly along it, just like she knew Miguel liked. In twenty seconds Y/n had him cumming violently with a loud cry of her name, his thighs twitching on either side of her head as he released rope after rope of his pearly fertile cum laying right onto her tongue. Pathetic whimpers and mewls escaped Miguel’s bitten lips m as Y/n proceeded sucking on his sensitive tip ever so slightly, getting every drop of cum out of him.

A picture finally became stable again, showing Y/n messy face, smug smile curling her puffy fucked-out lips as she looked up onto cameraman . She slowly opened her mouth, sticking her pink tongue out to show off a fat load of pearly cum resting on top of it. Operator shifted camera to the side so that it was angled towards Y/n’s profile rather than her front. Soon Miguel’s reddened face appeared in the picture, his greedy mouth latching onto Y/n’s, their tongues swirling together in a wet sloppy kiss, sharing his soury cum between the two of them. They broke apart soon, a chain of their mixed saliva and Miguel’s sperm was still connecting their lips, breaking and wetting both their chins.

- You’re losing shape, big boy. Not even ten minutes in, and cumming already, - Y/n teased with a happy smile as Miguel plopped back onto his previous seat with a quiet groan.

Girl snatched camera right out of Miguel’s hand, pointing it on him instead. O’Hara was splayed out against sofa’s backrest, brown skin glowing with a thin layer of sweat, a few strands of hair sticking to his temples and forehead. His naked chest was heaving along with every shallow breath he took, dark eyes gazing directly into camera.

- Shut up… you’re just good at it.

- Aw, are you shying away now, Miggie? - Y/n tutted, making an accent on male’s name, making him avert his eyes in embarrassment .

Y/n’s hand appeared in the video, way smaller and frail than Miguel’s; she grabbed his face by the chin, raising it a bit for a better view, his cheekbones and ears dusted with dark shade of red. She let go of man’s face before two of her slender fingers pressed onto his thin lips; Miguel obediently opened his mouth, taking your small digits in. You made a show of playing around with his soft tongue and sharp fangs, a dribble of saliva may be visible running down from the corner of Miguel’s mouth as he whimpered ever so slightly around your knuckles, dark eyes glazing over with lust.

- Thank you guys for watching, I hope you enjoyed. Bye and see you soon~

Press play to restart the video

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important for writers, give us some love<3

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara smut #this is so good omg #I’m wetting my pants #stop what you’re doing and read this now !!

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reveriexxgirlly · 10 months

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this is so good. literally has me like:

put on a show

premise: you like people watching you turn into a pitiful mess of need and desire, and hobie likes being the cause and effect of it.

pairing: hobie brown x (f)reader

word count: 2.3k

contents: established relationship, they’re both camstars, badly written british talk probably, unprotected p in v, coming inside, dirty talk, light choking, hobie has tongue and nipple rings because i said so, oh and tattoos, praise.

note: finally putting this out into the world instead of in my head, enjoy, eat it up, and thank my bby sil for sending in this request that made my brain short circuit.

You had seen Hobie first.

Or rather, that’s the story he insists be told when your friends ask how you two met.

That it was you who was bored after your own stream one night and scrolled through the lives and found him. Stumbled upon him by luck, and your tongue heavy and dry in your mouth when you saw his tattooed chest, body leaning back against a deep purple sofa. The sheer-ish look of the velvet made his body look ethereal with him perched on it—knees spread as his fist lazily stroked himself.

As if it were nothing. As if the piercings on his face and nipples, his thick hair, and the black studded collar around his neck didn’t make him look like a fallen angel. Like the users commenting on how hot he looked or how beautiful his cock was, it meant nothing over the comments of people cracking jokes with him and making the corner of his lips pull up in a smirk as he held a teasing conversation with them.

A conversation you would have with a friend. Fully clothed. Maybe around a slice of pizza.

Not completely nude with your hand around your cock.

And maybe that’s when you first fell in love with him.

When you stayed for his quick quips and banter with his fans rather than watching him get off.

Of course, until you actually watched him get off.

Watched the way his bottom lip hung open, brows furrowed, heels digging into the cushions of the couch as his hips bucked up into his fist. As his breath and words became heavier, more incoherent, and harder to understand with his accent, the closer he got. The harder he fucked up into his hand.

The noise he made when he came, spurts of his come decorating his tattooed skin, was all you needed to see to know Hobie had pushed his way to the top of your—possible—favorite things to get off to list; your fingers typing out the only word you could think of into the chat: beautiful.

“Looks like we've gotta celebrity in the room with us.” He smirked while reading your username. Thanking his tippers before giving everyone a salute and signing off.

His words indicated that Hobie had seen you first.

That the story you tell is missing the prelude of it where Hobie tells them how he’d watched your streams before you’d ever watched his. Something he keeps between the two of you when he’s between your legs murmuring against your thighs about how he loved watching the men in your chat section be at your mercy from even a flash of your pretty pussy.

And while you remember vividly the first time your eyes set on Hobie, it’s harder for you to fully comprehend how the two of you got here.

Together.

Streaming together.

A couple.

Who fucks for all to see on the internet.

Strangers begging Hobie to leave his teeth marks in the globes of your ass, and within those same seconds, others are begging you to edge him with your mouth until he’s a swearing, groaning mess.

You’d never tell your friends the nitty gritty details of it all. A simple “yeah, I found his stream first and the rest is history” is better than “yeah, I found his stream first and now he fucks me into the mattress of our shared bed and turns my ass towards the camera to show everyone his come dripping from my pussy”.

So you keep it simple if anyone asks.

And give the rest away to strangers.

To people who want both you and Hobie equally.

Who send in tip after tip that one would think is the reason the two of you do this. Why you keep coming back and giving them what they want.

You’d asked Hobie once why he likes to stream, among his other decently paid jobs—modeling, gigs with his band—that he could be doing steadily rather than this. He had told you that some scout manager for some big modeling agency tried to sign him after a show he did. Talked a big game about money and getting him in the clothes of real designers, the ones that mattered, only to end the conversation by saying how ‘his body, his rules’ only worked when you were with an agency that mattered.

So Hobie, being Hobie, proved him wrong.

Stuck it to every fake body positive agency out there by putting himself—his full self—on display on the internet, only for sales of the upcoming designers he was modeling for to be trending worldwide before the clock struck midnight.

It made your reason for streaming a little less proactive.

“You like it when people watch you make a total mess out of ya self don’t you, love?” He asks, his accent thick and deeper when you have his cock in your mouth like this. With your back splayed across the bed, your head hangs from the edge as Hobie uses your throat. As his hips create a pattern of thrusting slowly, then hard. The slow strokes move the underside of his dick against your tongue in a languid way that makes you moan around him as you savor its weight. The hard strokes burn your throat and make tears stream down into your hairline as spit and precome mix at the sides of your mouth and chin.

All you can do is nod around him. Eyes blurry and doe like as you look up at him from upside down. See the lopsided grin he’s giving you. See his stomach muscles tighten and move each time he hits deeper in your throat than the last, your throat constricting around him, unwilling to take him any further until he repeats the stroke and it grows accustomed to him being there, welcoming him with a whimper and your hips canting down against the bedspread.

And he was right.

You loved people watching you look totally consumed. Fucked out and raw with pleasure and need.

It was your favorite part of it all—before Hobie.

Watching the chat come alive with praises and degradations, from how you fucked yourself into exhaustion and delirium with a vibrator or the slow grind you would do against your pillow that always turned you into a whimpering mess.

You wanted people to see you in that weakened state. To be in awe of how badly you wanted to come or be fucked.

And Hobie loved watching you almost as much as he loved being the one to make you enter that state of delirium with just a swipe of his thumb across your bottom lip or a bite of your nipples. He loved doing the little things that would work you up to the point of your pretty eyes begging him for more—to be rougher, to go faster.

It’s why the two of you made the perfect team.

The perfect show.

He loved someone who was addicted to what he had to give, and you loved everyone watching you take whatever he was willing to give you.

And you both loved how heady the sight of each other's pleasure made you. How good Hobie looked with his head back between his shoulders, a hard swallow making his throat bob, groans slipping from his wet lips as you sucked on the tip of his cock as he pulled it out of your throat. Your tongue laced with the taste of his precome.

Hobie's eyes light up as he runs his thumb along your wet bottom lip, leaving a trail of your mixed saliva down your chin and up to your neck, where his fingers splay across the column of it. His rings warm against your heated skin. The involuntary intake of breath your lungs make when he adds the slightest bit of pressure makes his cock twitch.

Makes him want to fuck your throat with his hands right here so he can feel himself, feel how you fight back your body's survival need to struggle with something being that deep past your tongue. How you ignore it and do the opposite by moaning around him.

You look messy, dazed, and all his.

As much as he craves to paint your tongue with his come tonight, with one sidelong glance at the screen, he can see that your fans want to see his come somewhere else. Somewhere that’s already wet and making you squirm when he reaches over your body and cups your pussy against his palm.

Two fingers slip past your lips, making you mewl and squirm as your thighs clamp around his wrist. Your clit swollen and sensitive from his earlier abuse of it; his mouth attached to your pussy, the metal in his mouth aids in the friction of your hips to get him to where you were greedy to have him, and the metal nicking your clit in just the right way to make your back bow.

“Should we show’em how soaked this pretty pussy is?” He hums against your chest as his pierced tongue runs along the mounds of your boobs before rolling against a nipple. Your body contorting against him; a whine the only answer you can give. Hobie grins against your skin, “thought so.”

The embarrassment someone might feel to be now on their knees, chest to the bed, ass in the air, and Hobie’s fingers running through their wetness, has long since left your body. Embarrassment didn’t belong in this line of work or in your relationship with him. The two of you were like open books read and reread, pages torn out and dogged eared. He knew your dark parts just as well as you knew his light parts.

So with the squelch of his fingers fucking into you, your entire bottom half facing the camera and giving everyone the perfect view and show of your arousal, of just how wet you had gotten from Hobie down your throat, makes you moan into the bed. Makes you beg him to fuck you.

“Has she earned it, do ya think? Should we fuck this desperate pussy?” Hobie laughs at something, something you can’t see or even be jealous of not seeing because you’re too busy pushing back on his fingers. Too busy looking just as desperate as he describes. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” You feel his lips press against one of your cheeks before his teeth bite into the muscle, making you squeal.

And with one quick movement, you're pulled in the other direction, your ass flush against his pelvis as he thrusts into you.

The noise you make sounds more like a wounded animal meeting its end than something graphically sexy. But you know they’re eating it up. That Hobie loves it. If the way he starts out at a hardened pace is any indication of the matter. His fingers and rings dig into your hips as he fucks you; he doesn’t even have to pull your hips to him because your body is doing the work for him. Pushing back on him. Meeting him halfway and making his cock drive harder and deeper into your pussy.

“Sounds so fuckin pretty, doesn’she?” Hobie leans over your ass and presses a few kisses to your spine before reaching up to grip your shoulder. One of his legs bent up at the knee, giving him more leverage as he pounds into you. “She feels fuckin’ amazing, mates.” He groans, “god. The way she grips my cock like her pussy is tryna pull me in further, and further,” his thrusts accentuate his words as his hips snap harder and at a new angle now. Making you sob into the bed. Your fingers are messing up the fabric of Hobie’s comforter. “Such a greedy pussy.” An airy laugh falls against your skin as his mouth bites at your shoulder.

Making your stomach flutter and your body hang at that precipice.

It only takes a few more strokes and his thumb against your clit and you’re coming. Crying out as your body finally crashes down from that pleasurable high. That need finally being sedated and brought to a place of calming satisfaction. Like a wound being licked clean. Taken care of by the one thing, the one person, who could make the ache bearable.

“Good girl,” Hobie grunts into your ear. “S’fuckin good,” he says in that deep octave that makes your body swoon. Makes those sparks of arousal hang on longer and longer as he continues to fuck you. As his hips snap and fingers pull you back onto his cock until he’s coming undone. Until curses are mixed with your name and he’s praising you and your pretty pussy for taking him.

And when he turns you around again, your ass back in view of your fans—the people you’re sure are going crazy in the chat right now. Their praises, their jealousy, and their tips all ping ponging through the chat.

God she’s such a good little slut isn’t she

Fuck you filled her up nice

Make her choke on it next time

$100 pounds if you eat it out of her mate

Ya’ll are amazing!

Your body shudders when you feel Hobie’s fingers run through your sensitive lips, the squelch of his pointer and index pushing into you—the smallest hisses breathed out from your lungs from the sting of your swollen hole—gathering the remnants of his come on his fingers.

“Look at the camera, love.” Hobie says softly, soothes a hand at the back of your neck to give your head a more comfortable position as you move yourself, but keep your ass in the air. He doesn’t even have to tell you to open your mouth for him; no need for silent orders. You just do it. Happily. His fingers press down onto your tongue as you wrap your lips around them and suck off his come.

#crying and coming #this is so perfect y’all #I need Hobie so bad #stop what you’re doing and read this NOW !!#hobie brown x reader

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reveriexxgirlly · 10 months

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sorry but hobie likes chubby, fat, thick doughy girls bro idgaf, neither does he. fuck the system :3

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reveriexxgirlly · 11 months

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me after reading this fic 50 times in a row

hi hi hi your absolutely amazing at what you do!!

i was wondering if maybe you can do a reader riding daddy!hoppers face with a praise kink involved maybe ..?👀👀

Thank you so much!! 🥰💕

USING DADDY

Daddy!Jim Hopper x fem!reader

18+ explicit content | Minors DNI

TW: DADDY KINK

Includes: praise, face sitting/riding, oral (f receiving) masturbation, cum play, and of course, daddy kink!

It had been too long since you’d had the opportunity to be intimate together like this, in the quiet isolation of Hopper’s cabin. Now that you were both naked and warm beneath the thick quilt on Hopper’s bed, it felt as if the time you’d had to spend apart had never existed.

You were resting your head on Hopper’s belly, tracing your fingers over his stomach. One of your legs was spread over his, your bare pussy pressed against the thick meat of Hopper’s thigh. Your eyes slid up his body and lingered on his chest. Hopper knew what the slight change in your expression meant. He could feel your need dripping down his thigh.

“You want to sit up here, honey, all y’had to do was ask.” Hopper patted his chest. Your gaze followed his hand as it rested against the coarse pattern of hair over his chest. He was so fucking handsome. Of all the girls in Hawkins, you knew you were the luckiest. You knew your Daddy was the most handsome of all. Strong, exuding authority, commanding respect without needing to utter a word, Hopper was the embodiment of security and protection.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned, helping you climb up his body to straddle his chest. Your knees were resting on the bed over Hopper’s shoulders, framing his face with your thighs. A perfect view to look down on.

“C’mon,” Hopper teased. “Don’t be shy.” His large hands cupped your ass and gave it a firm squeeze. “Tell Daddy what you need.” You licked your lips, smiling bashfully despite the fact that you’d been in this position many times before. “I want…” You watched Hopper’s eyes darken as the last of your words left your lips. “…I want to rub myself all over you, Daddy…”

He squeezed your ass again, lifting you slightly, pulling your cunt a little closer to his mouth. “Yeah baby?” Hopper asked, his tone soft, playful. “Well you’d better show me, then...” He bounced you up even closer to his lips. “You use Daddy however you need…”

Hopper’s words made the ache deep inside you grow stronger. He always knew what to say when you were in this headspace, the shit that would drive you absolutely crazy with need. You pressed your hips forward, sliding up Hopper’s chin and covering his mouth with your cunt. His lips had already parted, tongue slipping between your folds and pressing inside you. Gliding back and forth over Hopper’s face, the sound of your soaked pussy was audible as you rutted against him.

Hopper lifted his chin in order to fuck his tongue deeper inside you, his nose drenched in you, your slick flinging from his nostrils with each exhale. With your fingers knotted in Hopper’s hair and your knees digging into the mattress, you used the traction to bounce on Hopper’s stiffened tongue, your clit bumping his nose every time you descended. As your orgasm drew closer, Hopper slid his hand between your legs and collected some of your slick on his fingers. He reached behind you, grip fastening around his cock. With your cunt clenching and releasing around his tongue in the rhythmic waves of your climax, Hopper jerked himself hard, coming with you after only a few strokes. You felt a few drops of his cum spurt up onto your ass, while most of it landed thick and hot across his stomach.

You slid back down Hopper’s chest and kept your legs spread over his belly, humping against the wet patch of cum and spreading it around with your cunt. Hopper exhaled slowly, chuckling a little. “What a dirty little girl I have,” he murmured approvingly, as he watched you lick up the rest of his cum.

“…and you wouldn’t have me any other way,” you reminded him with a wink.

“That’s right,” Hopper agreed, pulling you into his arms. “My filthy fuckin’ girl…”

#im so smitten by him lol #this got my panties all gooey #I love this blog sm #jim hopper

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