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holy-puckslibrary · 5 months

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━ 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — JAMIE DRYSDALE x reader (est. relationship) wc — 1.5k synopsis — jamie can’t keep his hands to himself, and neither can his girlfriend. (prompted on this ask)

note — title’s from summertime by bon jovi + yes, this is a re-upload from the main blog (@holy-pucks) since nothing of mine posted there shows up in the tags. if you’ve already liked or shared that post, i would really appreciate you doing the same with this new one :) thx a million in advance! xx

specific content warnings listed below the cut.

cw — alcohol consumption/tipsy!reader x tipsy!jamie, accidental exhibitionism (jamie getting handsy at a bonfire bc he just can't resist lol), suggestive lang + innuendo, + general fluffy filth but nothing super explicit really, pretty tame for me tbh

jamie drysdale has never been so pleased to have lost a fight in his entire life.

he didn't think it'd get cold enough to warrant lugging around an extra blanket (meaning him, not you—he's a gentleman). you thought otherwise, and pestered him until there was one neatly folded in the backseat.

objectively speaking, jamie was right; it wasn't even chilly. he was actually a little warm, if he was being honest, but that had a lot more to do with his wandering, beer-soaked mind than the weather or a superfluous layer.

—and he had a tent in his pants to prove it.

it's his own fault. he pulled you into his lap when there were more than enough lawn chairs scattered around the blazing fire, knowing full-well you fidget when you're tipsy. jamie knows you can't sit still to save your life, yet he sat you across his thighs anyway. and now he—and his raging hard-on—are paying the price.

he isn't embarrassed he's turned on, that's not the problem. that's never the problem. you've been dating for years, and anyone who's shocked by the effect you have on him has bigger problems than jamie's attraction to his own girlfriend.

it's the fact that he's about ten seconds away from pulling your suit to the side and rutting into you in the middle of a public beach with his friends not even a foot away.

someone across the half-moon crowd says something that makes you laugh—makes you wiggle. jamie's hands tighten on your hips to keep you still, but, by this point in the night, his body is too lax to be of much help. if anything, the impassioned touch eggs you on, and it isn't long before his hips are moving to match your mostly-involuntary movements.

jamie hisses through gritted teeth, jaw clenched so tight it aches. "baby, quit it—please."

fluttering half-lidded eyes meet his, clock his internal struggle, and immediately twinkle with mischief. under the guise of shifting your attention, you rub the outside of your thigh against the bulge threatening to tear his trunks.

"quit what?" you ask with a demure smile, your hands looping themselves around his neck. warm fingertips play with the feathered locks tickling his sunburnt neck, making him shiver.

"you know what," he glares. "i don't know when we'll get back home, and you're driving me insane."

"touch me here."

blinking in disbelief, he balks. "w-what?"

"touch. me. here."

each word is punctuated with a chaste peck to his ever-reddening cheek. the succinct affection bounces you in his lap, and jamie can't help but slide his hands further beneath the sandy blanket. at first, to halt the infuriating friction but, like usual, once his hands wander he just can't stop. consequences—and shyness—be damned.

"s'not a good idea." jamie nips your jaw, dotting a line of warm kisses along your neck, stopping once his nose brushes your ear. "my baby's loud as shit, and i'd rather not have an audience."

you swat his chest in offense, but giggle nonetheless. "am not!"

"are too." he smiles up at you.

"i can be quiet," you huff, determination furrowing your brow.

jamie reaches up to smooth the crease with his thumb. you catch his arm and press a sweet peck to the inside of his wrist. he shudders.

you hum into his skin, "i think you're projecting."

"that right?" your boyfriend feigns ignorance, amused.

"let me prove it," you whisper before leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose. with your forehead flush to his, you try again. "please, jamie. i can't wait anymore—and i certainly can't wait until t strikes out with whoever he's obsessed with this week."

jamie snorts.

you make a solid point; it could be another ten minutes or upwards of two hours. his guess was as good as any—trevor himself included. jamie's really starting to hate that him finally fucking his own girlfriend hinges on his best friend's ability—or inability—to seal the deal.

"you make even a peep, and i stop. got it?"

what's the worst that could happen if he indulges you a bit? no one's even paying attention to either of you, anyway.

you nod, bottom lip pinched between your teeth. jamie tugs it free, fingertip dancing over the fresh indentations. your tongue slips out to tease his sun-soaked skin, and it isn't long before the digit is flush to your hot tongue.

jamie's eyes are almost black with lust as they watch your lips welcome and release his finger over and over again. your eyelids fall as he slips into a trance, mesmerized by your mouth.

"words, baby. gimme words," he prods, the words barely audible.

you surrender his hand with a faint pop, blinking down at him like you're already teetering on the precipice. "no sounds or you stop—i got it," you parrot. "now are you going to touch me?"

"needy, needy, baby," jamie teases after stealing a kiss. "i've spoiled you rotten, haven't i? can't even go a couple hours without begging me to touch you... s'alright, i can barely keep my hands of you. 'specially when i've got you sittin' all pretty in my lap like this."

"—jamie, please, just... just touch me already—need t'feel you."

chuckling to himself, jamie mercifully pushes the sodden material out of the way. he nearly moans at what he finds.

how much of it is from the evening dip you took with a couple of the other girlfriends, it's hard to tell, but he'd put good money on it being little to none. no, the damp patch growing in his lap is all you. sweet and warm, and perfectly you.

you gasp when he collects some of the escaped arousal with a few of his fingers. jamie raises a brow in your direction and you cover your mouth apologetically. he bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. you're trying so hard to keep quiet, it's adorable.

"—haven't even done anything and you're already breaking your promise," he chides. "how am i supposed to give you what you want when you're already misbehaving?"

"the other one," you breathe. confused, jamie hesitates. "give me your other hand."

you fish his free hand out from between your bodies and bring it up to your mouth. his eyes bulge out of their sockets once your intentions become obvious; you mean to silence yourself by sucking on his middle and marriage as he fucks you with the other hand. your back is mostly to the group, but he's still paranoid as all hell.

yet, jamie can't bring himself to deny you—or himself.

"you're gonna be the death of me," he groans as your head dips.

too turned on to care, jamie relents and slips a gentle finger into you. your eyes pinch shut, teeth catching on his other hand, but no sound leaves you. as a reward for your good behavior, he sinks in even further, until he's knuckle-deep at both ends.

his movements are much slower than normal, but, somehow, it doesn't matter. jamie's thumb seeks out your clit, sensitive and swollen despite its neglect, and he traces lazy circles between deep, measured thrusts. all the while, he mouths at your neck with little concern for what evidence he might leave behind. jamie's sole focus is making you feel as good as he does right now with his half-naked, hot-as-hell girlfriend writhing in his lap, her pretty pussy clenching around his lucky fingers.

"—j-jamie," you warble around his drenched hand, hips bucking into the other with what little leverage you have positioned like this. "—close, s'close."

oh, he knows. he can tell. jamie knows your body better than you do; he's a diligent student.

"are you, baby?" jamie can't resist a bit of taunting. you're too far gone to push back. "poor thing, what do you need from me? tell me what you need to get there."

you're slow to answer, overwhelmed by the sensations attacking your mind from all angles. somewhere along the line, a second finger was added... and then a third. the burning stretch aches so good your vision blurs.

jamie, jamie, jamie—the beginning, middle, and end of your thoughts—jamie, through and though. he's everywhere, but it's still not enough.

"my n-neck," you eventually gasp. "please—kiss my neck again."

your boyfriend is more than happy to oblige. lips latched to the tender spot just below your ear, jamie lets his hand take control of the pace; he's no longer content to drag this out. it's been a long day, and all he wants is to watch his pretty girlfriend fall to pieces in his lap.

your peak is ushered in by a series of pitiful little whines and whimpers, mostly muffled by his spit-stained hand, but jamie doesn't have the heart—or the sanity—to chastise you for it. if he had it his way, his mind would play those beautiful, broken sounds on a loop.

but the reverie is too good to last. it always is.

"get a room, you two!"

a chorus of laughter and vulgar remarks succeed trevor's call-out. and, hot under the collar, jamie's cheeks burn pink as he buries his face in the safety of your neck.

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konigbabe · 1 year

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heavenly sin

Pairing: RE4!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Tags/warnings: smut (pure unfiltered filth, no plot); voice kink; p-in-v sex; unprotected sex; female gendered anatomy; female masturbation; fingering; cunnilingus; established relationship; no y/n; references to Christianity and ferocity; extensive wordplay

Summary: It's been known that Leon is one kinky bastard.

A/N: Written as part of my A to Z kinks game. N is for narratophilia aka being aroused by sexual storytelling.

Tried something a little bit different to explore my knowledge of English. A wordplay of sorts (I basically threw random words together in hopes that it'd make some sense). Bon Appetit.

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“You enjoying yourself?” As Leon discards his gloves, casting them aside like insignificant relics, you feel the pillow crumple beneath his weight. A testament to the force of his being. The air feels sizzling hot, thick with heat and suffocating in its intensity. “If I knew my words would get you so riled up,” his other hand cups your breast, thumb circling the erected nipple and watching as goosebumps rise over the sensitive skin, “I’d do this much sooner.”

It started as a joke, a fleeting spark in the sea of banter. Leon’s flirtatious nature entwined in perfect harmony with his tender heart.

Fresh out of the shower, your heart longed for the man whose sudden departures have become routine. A standard in your life.

The sun made its final descent below the horizon, the sky painted in shades of amber and gold – the bedroom awash in a warm and inviting glow, as if every object was kissed by the sun's final rays. The light filtered through the sheer curtains, creating patterns on the floor that danced like flickering flames.

And in the midst of it all, Leon's call came through, cutting through the stillness.

The conversation began innocently. Calling to let you know he’ll be home soon. It was as though his tenderness was butterfly's wings, fluttering in your chest and making your heart skip a beat.

His sincere words slowly spilt over into something else. Something more. Something promising.

It’s now that the phone lies next to your ear, and Leon's voice, like a silk ribbon, unwinds into your consciousness, stirring a deep and primal desire within you. Building the anticipation need inside you.

“After that, I’d bent you over the table. You’d already be naked and dripping,” Leon’s voice a song of Solomon, “but I’d be far from done with you.”

A gasp, soft and quiet, escapes your parted lips. Every fibre of your body, every cell is set on fire. The setting sun casting flames over your naked skin of yours. Flesh burning. Body wrapped in a cocoon of passionate flames – your palm pressing against the sensitive nub, the pressure light as a feather. Slow, languid strokes of your fingers follow Leon’s words.

Muscles tightening as the pressure keeps adding with each sentence. Slow and steady. With a pace of a gentle stream. Dipping one finger deep inside your slick walls, only to stop when you reach fully inside.

A stream of docile moans flows from your throat.

“Just to feel you take my cock. Hear those gorgeous gasps as you beg me to give it to you,” hand gripping the messed-up sheets underneath you, squeezing tight as you add another finger, curling them upwards.

“Rough, just how you like it. Pretty sure we’d break the table,” Leon’s words are accompanied by a light chuckle, hiding much more sinister and vivid ideas inside his head.

The way his name rolls off your tongue makes him cuss. Your voice carries the weight of longing, desire, and devotion. Making Leon wish to finally be home.

“Fuck. Could spend all day between those lovely legs of yours.” Leon’s voice descends to a low murmur, tinged with raw, feral hunger.

With a touch as tender as a butterfly’s wing, thumb circling the aching nub of nerves; it ignites a wildfire of ecstasy within your body. As you lightly graze your opening, feeling the softness of your slick walls, a delicate gasp escapes your mouth, akin to a prayer of submission to this moment of pure passion and pleasure.

“Just to taste that pretty pussy of yours on my tongue.”

Leon's voice pours into the phone, rich and sinful. You hear the front door open with a soft creak, the sound echoing through your body. He's finally home, his presence filling your senses with a heady aroma of musk and lust, a tantalizing potion that you can't resist.

He gazes at you with eyes like storm clouds brewing with desire. The air is thick with the scent of sex and your yearning, hanging in the dimly lit bedroom, resembling a heavy fog. You keep your gaze locked with his, transfixed as Leon strides in, his figure outlined by the glow of light seeping in from the hallway.

You don’t stop–

–instead, your fingers delve deeper. Nails grazing the tender walls, the slight discomfort only adding to the pleasure. Like a deer caught in headlines, your eyes stay on his.

The sound of your slickness echoes in the room as you thrust in and out, unconsciously matching the rhythm of Leon's steps – left in, right out, left in, right out – a dance of carnal desire.

And just like that, he stands on the side of the bed.

Leon’s eyes gleam with a fierce intensity. A perfect blend of predatory sensuality and effortless ease. With the grace of a pather; clad in a black henley shirt, the first two buttons undone, exposing the slight curve of his clavicles. It molds to his chiseled form as though it was a second skin, making Leon exude a primal magnetism that draws you closer to your high.

Spellbound by the scene in front of him – by you; fingers deep inside, eyes glazed over with orgasmic ecstasy as your work yourself to your high.

The air is thick with the sweet scent of your desire, a heady aroma that fills his senses with an overwhelming urge to indulge in your rapture.

He steps closer, placing one knee on the bed. The mattress creaks under his weight, but his gaze never leaves yours. It's as if you're the only person in the world that matters to him right now. The heat emanating from his body is palpable, and you feel your heart race as his presence commands the room.

“You enjoying yourself?”

His tone is low. A seductive purr sends a wave of electricity through your veins. Hot like molten lava. Dripping like honey, sweet and luscious. They linger in the air, coating everything around you with a sticky warmth.

His name leaves your lips in a deep sigh. Soft walls squeeze your fingers.

As he discards his fingerless gloves, casting them aside like insignificant relics, you feel the pillow crumple beneath his weight. A testament to the force of his being. The air feels sizzling hot, thick with heat and suffocating in its intensity.

Leon’s arm flexes, the sinewy muscles bulging when put to work. Your eyes lock onto his, drinking in the raw masculinity and primal allure of his being. A contented moan escapes your lips, an instinctive reaction to the overwhelming sensuality of the moment.

“If I knew my words would get you so riled up,” his other hand cups your breast, thumb circling the erected nipple and watching as goosebumps rise over the sensitive skin, “I’d do this much sooner.”

His towering form casts a shadow over you as he leans closer. Lips so close you can almost taste the desire that emanated from him. The heat of his breath dances across your skin, making your senses swirl in a dizzying haze of lust; igniting a fire that burns with the intensity of Samson's strength.

“Wanna gimme a kiss?” he whispers, his lips almost brushing against yours. You’re still able to feel the soft graze of the plump skin atop of yours, sending a fluttering sensation to your heart.

You can't help but feel intoxicated by his voice, each word rolling off his tongue with a silky smoothness that sends shivers down your spine. It's almost like he's casting a spell, using his voice as a weapon to ensnare you in his grasp. And you willingly surrender, caught in the web of his honeyed words; like Delilah, powerless to his will, swept away by the power of his seduction.

Lips grazing his, you push your face upwards to be closer. The kiss is both gentle and fierce; a tantalizing dance of lips and tongues that leaves you breathless and wanting more. The taste of him a mix of mint and spice. You stop the movement of your wrist between your legs. Stilling, feeling the wet squeeze around your fingers, your mind becomes a blank canvas, a vast expanse of nothingness.

The taste of him lingers on your tongue as he pulls away. Thick fingers wrapping around your wrist, he nudges your fingers out of you. A displeased grunt leaves your lips at the sudden emptiness. Only to have your breath stop; watching as Leon brings your hand, fingers visibly sticky with your juices, tongue swirling around the tip of your index finger before taking two of the fingers in his mouth. It’s as if he’s tasting the forbidden fruit, savoring the flavor of your arousal like the sweetest nectar.

Feeling the wet tip of his tongue swirl around your fingers, you can’t help but let out a soft moan. The rough texture brushes over the pads of your fingers. Licking every drop of you off of your fingers, leaving them clean before he licks his own lips.

“Missed that taste.”

His eyes never leave yours, dark and intense with desire as he slowly releases your hand.

“Missed you almost that much too.”

His words wash over you like a warm embrace, seeping into your pores and settling deep within your bones. As his body moves over yours, his hands glide across the burning expanse of your skin, tracing patterns of passion that leave you breathless in anticipation. The soft touch of his lips on your navel sends ripples of pleasure through your body, each sensation building on the last until you're gasping for air.

Leon sinks to his knees at the end of the bed; his movements smooth and graceful. Years of never-ending training left him in full control of every muscle. Arms sliding underneath your knees, he holds you firmly as he grips your hips with unyielding strength.

A single tug. Confident in its prosecution. He brings you to the edge of the bed, your glistening cunt hovering in front of his face. The sight of him there, between your legs, both captivating and overwhelming.

The wet tip of his tongue peaks from within his kiss-bruised lips.

Before you know it, you’re completely undone. A mess. Leon's tongue turns your body into a temple of pleasure; his movements sinuous and calculated. With each flick and swirl of his tongue, he's coaxing you to heights of ecstasy.

His tongue traces every inch of your throbbing cunt, flicking and teasing your clit as you squirm beneath him, one hand grasping his soft hair while the other squeezes your breast. His fingers, thick and rough, plunge deep inside of you, finding all the right spots to drive you wild. Each thrust of his hand sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you moan and writhe with need.

"Such a fucking filthy little thing," he growls against your skin, the heat of his breath making you shiver. He devours you with his mouth and hands, taking you to the brink of ecstasy and back again; fingers scissoring and pumping, working you over until you're a quivering mess of desire.

The blunt pressure of the tips of his fingers pressing mildly against your inner walls sending pinnacles of bliss across your body until you’re mewling at the sharp pleasure that ripples down your spine.

You claw at the sheets, unable to control the waves of sensation that crash over you.

And then, with a final, shuddering gasp, you let yourself go, your body convulsing in waves of pure pleasure. Ecstasy; Leon’s name a sweetened melody on the tip of your tongue.

He stands up afterwards, a towering figure before your eyes. Your aching legs fall from his shoulders onto the bed. Leon looms over you, appearing almost god-like, a divine being sent to ravage you with its passion.

Disposing of his shirt, you lay on the bed motionless, senses on high and in anticipation as you watch the man strip. With every article of clothing that comes off, Leon’s body reveals itself in all its glory. Shoulders and chest sculptured, shaped by years of intense training. Someone who’s worked hard to achieve such a physique. Rippling muscles that flex with every movement he makes. His arms thick with veins and biceps that bulge with raw strength, capable of holding you up effortlessly. You can see every ridge of his abs, each one chiseled to perfection.

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he rasps after ridding himself of the last article while you shamelessly stare at Leon’s sheer size and the strength of him.

“Very much,” you breathe out when he crawls on top of you.

His cock rests atop your stomach, heavy and pulsing with need; leaking as he marks you in his precum. Yet, neither of you moves. Unbothered, you remain locked in his gaze before his lips capture yours in a short passionate kiss. Drawn together by the irresistible pull of gravity, your lips meet in a collision of desire and longing.

Legs wrapping high around his waist, his hand leaves the side of your neck and travels the side of your body, igniting a trail of heat as it goes. Leon strokes the length of your thigh, only stopping when his fingers rest under your knee momentarily. Then you feel the blunt tip press against your aching cunt. The anticipation inside you unravels like a tightly wound spool, releasing a flood of sensations that spreads throughout your body.

“Ready?” he breathes out; his warm breath tickles your skin as his lips brush against yours once again.

The silky texture of his hair brush against your fingertips. Legs tightening around his upper body, you pull him closer to you. “Yeah.”

The pressure against your throbbing cunt intensifies as Leon presses forward. The crown of his cock splits you open with ease, enveloping him. Welcoming him eagerly in your wet heat. As if he belongs there.

Leon’s touch’s electric, sending shivers down your spine as he claims you with each bite and kiss. His teeth graze your chin, softly nibbling at the skin as he lets out a guttural grunt. Keeping one hand on the side of your neck, possessive and tender, surely to feel the rapid pulse of your jugular vein, he hooks his thumb underneath your jaw and pushes upwards.

When your head is tilted upwards enough to his satisfaction, his lips latch on the front of your neck. Small, quick bites decorate the stretched skin. Followed by a wet kiss, he sucks on the skin. Vulnerable and exposed.

Moans cascade from your lips, an ode to his cock splitting you apart slowly. A divine intrusion into your depths, filling you.

He stills when he’s buried balls deep inside of you; bottoms out in your quivering walls, slick with post-orgasmic arousal.

The feeling of fullness, of being completely filled, is almost too much to bear. Your breath hitches in your throat, body trembling with pleasure as it strains to accommodate him; to make enough space to take him in.

Your eyes flatter shut as he waits, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck while his hand cups the underside of your breast with his thumb teasing your nipple in a leisurely manner.

A moment of content falls between you. Bodies molded together; two halves of a whole.

After a few seconds, you press the sole of your feet into his skin, feeling the taunt muscle contract underneath you.

A subtle but unmistakable gesture. A wordless plea for more.

A fuck me of sorts.

Your body speaks volumes, a language he's learned to decipher. And with a low growl, he responds to your invitation. A low roll of his hips. A test of your readiness. It becomes a measured beat that tests your strength, the pressure of his cock firmly pressed against the walls of your cervix.

It has you sent into a harmonious frenzy.

Leon continues with the rhythm. Relishing in the tight squeeze of your cunt, in the way you sing for him, his name a sacred hymn on your lips. Your body responds eagerly to his touch, every nerve ending on fire as pleasure courses through you.

His hands sear a blazing trail on your burning flesh. Every touch feels as if he’s branding you, etching himself onto your skin.

The wetness of his lips causes goosebumps to raise on your skin. Moving like a reverent prayer. Worship of your body as his tongue swipes over your sensitive nipples.

Your name escapes his lips and is met with a low moan.

Tantalizing and peaceful.

Leon’s unhurried movements slowly transform into something more. Rough and hasty. Teeth nibbling at your jawline, feeling the bone underneath the skin, your nails bite into the tight muscle of his shoulder blades. Surely to leave indents that will bloom into bruises and marks. Your back arch, offering yourself up to him as you focus on meeting his thrusts.

As his hand wanders down the length of your body, his fingers dance along the curves of your waist and hips before grazing the globes of your ass; giving it a rough squeeze before wrapping his fingers under your knee and pulling away from your neck.

Meanwhile, his other hand braces his body weight by your face. Leon’s fingers entwine around your ankle. Pushing your leg up and over his shoulder, you moan over the painful stretch of your hamstring as he gazes at you.

He moves with a frenzied urgency. Lowering himself to rest on his elbows, his fingers find their way to your clit.

The way he flicks over the sensitive nub elicits a series of moans and cries from you only to be silenced by his lips crashing onto yours.

The kiss is wet and messy. Hungry. Both of you eager to take and dominate, his tongue dancing with yours in a frenzied manner.

It's like he's a man possessed, lost in the rhythm of his movements and the feel of your body beneath him. You writhe and moan, lost in a haze of sensation and desire as he takes you higher towards that ultimate release. That sweet orgasm. Every motion is a symphony, a perfect blend of power and finesse, as he explores the contours of your body with a deep hunger.

Mind becoming blurry, your senses are consumed by the raw, primal desire Leon elicits with his thrusts. Moving to brace himself better, it feels impossible when you feel the blunt pressure hit even deeper than before. Gasping, you move your hips, trying to take him as deep as possible.

The smell of sweat and sex fills the air, and you can hear the sound of skin slapping against the skin as Leon moves with increasing speed and intensity. His determination to tear you apart only grows each time your hips meet, sending bolts of electricity throughout your every cell. His thumb flicks over your clit, applying pressure and circling the aching bud until you’re quivering underneath the mass of a man above you. Inside you.

The sound of his grunts and moans blends into a symphony of pleasure, each note building up the tension within you. You feel like a volcano on the brink of eruption, bubbling with molten passion until it finally snaps. Erupts.

A tidal wave of pleasure washes over you. Sweeping you in a vortex of delight. A thousand stars explode in your mind, each one brighter than the last, painting your vision with vibrant colors. Your body convulses, spasming in rhythm with the waves of pleasure that ripple through you.

Gasps leave your lips. Desperate for air, you cling to Leon, whose thrusts never wavered. Whose fingers continue to tease your clit, now throbbing and exploding with sensitivity. His eyes lock on yours, lips parted with low moans escaping from between before you bring his face down to you, swallowing each cry of pleasure but eventually, he pulls away.

You watch as Leon’s eyes snap shut, brows furrowing in pleasure as he stills. His full length buried inside of your spasming cunt, filling you up with his cum.

Your body’s spent. Yet your mind’s still reeling from the sheer intensity as Leon remains buried inside; his breath ragged and uneven before he pulls out with measured slowness, teasing your oversensitive clit with a gentle tap. You shudder at the sensation of him trickling out of you.

“Hi.”

The simple word leaves your mouth in a breathless whisper. A mere welcome that was meant to be addressed when he first entered your home instead of now. A warmth spreads through your body, settling low in your belly as you take in the sight of him; the way his blond hair falls across his forehead, resembling a halo of an angel. Cheeks tinted in light pink and lips curved into a small smile as he looks at you.

“Hi.”

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bedoballoons · 10 months

Text

⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿Yandere Neuvillette x Reader⊰

{༻~Mon amour~༺}

A/n: This man has me in a chokehold...

CW: NSFW! Minors DNI! Bottom fem reader! Top Neuvillette! Calls you Mon amour and angel! Also includes: eating out, long dragon tongue, uses his tongue to do the deed! Enjoy~

Requests/asks open!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You shivered, Neuvillettes warm breath sweeping across the extra sensitive skin of your neck, his face buried in the crook of it while he drank in every inch of you, it was like he couldn't get enough...like you were a drug that even the chief of justice would break the law for...just to have one little taste. His hands trailed down your sides slowly, like he was savoring every touch and as you laid back on his cold wooden desk, papers falling to the floor and pens scattering across its flat surface..he felt up the plush flesh of your thighs...spreading your legs apart to reveal your pretty little blue panties, already soaked through.

"Mmm, Mon amour~" He whispered, his voice thick with unmatched lust, like his eyes that stared up at you, watching your every reaction as he skillfully slid your undies down and leaned in to place gentle kisses on the insides of your thighs, taking his sweet time so he could remember every moment even better. "N-neuvillette...please hurry..." You said breathlessly, unable to think of anything else but him...and what he could do to you, your mind filled with a filth that made you blush madly.

"Shhh angel...I promise it'll be worth the wait~" His fingers gripped onto your legs as he leaned in between them, his long tongue licking your wetness up in one stride before circling around your clit, flicking over your sweet spots as if he'd been starved for years, sending chills through your entire body while sweet moans escaped your lips. He could listen to your perfect noises for eternity, devouring your delicious pussy while wet sloppy noises started to fill the room, your gasps adding to the perfect melody that rang in his ears.

"Nghhh! N-neuvillette! O-ohhh god!" Your back arched as his forked tongue slid between your rosey pink folds, slipping so deep into you while he groaned in delight...you tasted even better than he could have imagined. Your hands found their way into his silvery white hair, gripping the soft strands between your fingers and pushing him further into your cunt, his nose rubbing against your clit while he fucked you with his tongue, moans being ripped out of you with no remorse while you started to see stars.

Your mind became mush, putty in his hands as you felt yourself being pushed over the edge, his eyes watching you intently so he could see the very moment he sent you into pure ecstasy. His fingernails dug into your skin as he moaned into your sopping wet pussy, your fluids dripping down his chin in the most lewd way as he worked his magic between your gummy walls. "AhHhhhH!" You screamed, your body arching perfectly as your orgasm hit you in waves, your cunt tightening around his tongue as he drank every last drop of your intense finish, leaving you a quivering mess that was unable to speak as drool ran down the side of your mouth.

His tongue slid out of you slowly as he pulled away to examine his work...your wet hole calling to the large bulge in his pants, he wanted more. He wanted all of you, right then right there, "Oh Mon amour...that was just the first course~"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚bon appetite*⁠.⁠✧

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin neuvillette #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x female reader #genshin x f!reader #neuvillette smut #neuvilletteimagines #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x fem!reader #neuvilette x reader #yandererneuvillette

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nevesmose · 1 month

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Power Wash Simulator × Warhammer 40,000 - The Horus Heresy Expansion Pack

You are Captain Balnaeus of the III Legion and only your elite squad of Emperor's Children™ Saponicus Spa Marines™ can deliver cleanliness to the galaxy's greatest warriors - the Primarchs™ rendered for the first time in ultra-realistic detail!

Guilliman - this is pretty much a tutorial level where he stands there grimly T-posing and hating every moment. If you spray him in the face, Yvraine will pop up in the corner of your screen and laugh like the dog from Duck Hunt.

Horus - similar to Guilliman but introducing environmental hazards. Getting his giant ornamental shoulder-wolf wet is an instant fail and using too strong a setting on his nose tube will make it fall out, causing him to frenzy. There's also a final quick time event with a floor buffer to get his head nice and shiny. Overall still a pretty easy level but the difficulty curve gets much steeper from here.

Perturabo - using all the skills you've developed so far, but on a very short time limit before his patience runs out and he stomps you to death. Watch out for the corners of his giant square headpiece since the dirt and resentment really gets wedged in there. You can reset the timer once by summoning Calliphone, but then you have to deal with her making judgmental yet undeniably accurate comments about you for the rest of the level.

Konrad - unlike other levels, this time the primarch is actively avoiding you by moving erratically around the arena and screaming prophecies. The key is to use the most powerful washer setting to stagger him and then clean his weak points while he's stunned. Not too difficult once you learn his attack patterns but the late stage move where he summons Sevatar to throw a bucket of blood and viscera over him can catch you out if you aren't expecting it.

In the second phase he'll start shielding himself under his feather cloak which has an impenetrable layer of grease and filth on it. When he does this, Sevatar will be somewhere in the arena trying to unplug your power washer so you have to find and spray him to get Konrad to come back out.

Fulgrim - this level has a complex RPG / dating sim conversation mechanic where you can persuade him to adopt various poses from classical art and statuary to gain better access to his illustrious nooks and crannies. His comments get wittier and wittier each time so you need to be quick on the draw with your own incisive bon mots or he'll get bored. His eyes do that disconcerting thing where they're always locked on to the player no matter where you are in the room.

Fulgrim Transfigured - maxing out your relationship status with Fulgrim will unlock this secret post-Heresy level in which your power washer has been mutated into a throbbing fleshy construct that spurts glittering purple lubricant all over Daemon Fulgrim while he writhes around orgasmically.

At this point the DLC was removed from all online storefronts so the final and most difficult level, Daemon Primarch Mortarion, only exists as concept art.

#wh40k #warhammer 40k #horus heresy #shitposting #roboute guilliman #horus #perturabo #konrad curze #fulgrim #power wash simulator #primarchs

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novankenn · 3 months

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The Day After... The Day After... Everyone is Irish

(Post that Started it All)

The RBY of RWBY and the NR of JNPR all gave the quartet slowly making their way into the cafeteria the stink-eye. The sights each team saw when they walked into their respective dorms... was shocking.

Joan: Argh, níl mé ag ól arís!*

Jaune: Bon sang, c'est vrai… je jure de ne plus jamais boire!*

The twin bonds drop their heads into their arms, breathing heavily as if trying to not throw up.

Ruby/Blake/Yang/Nora/Ren: Huh, what did they just say?

Pyrrha: No idea. They've been talking like that since we woke them up.

Weiss: I'm catching a part of what Jaune is saying... but Joan I have no idea. But I think they're both talking about not drinking again.

Pyrrha: I think that would be for the best.

Yang: Really?

Weiss: What's that supposed to mean?

Blake: Seems you and Pyrrha walked away like bandits because of it.

Weiss and Pyrrha blush as they try and hide the hickies ringing their necks.

Ruby: FILTH! FILTH!!

Joan and Jaune peek up from their attempts to block out all light and give Ruby a look.

Jaune: Ní raibh, Ruby! Léiriú grá domhain agus toiliúil a bhí ann!*

Joan: Vous comprendrez quand vous serez plus grand… Cupidon sort de nulle part !* Ah... my head...

Pyrrha: It does something to you...

Weiss: Hearing them speak like that... oh I agree... I so agree.

Ruby: ...

Yang: Okay! Maybe you should take those two back to the dorms? Let them recover some...

Blake: You mean a lot.

Ren: I hate to break the mood... but did you take... precautions?

Weiss: Why would I do that? Oh, wait... (Looks towards Pyrrha)

Pyrrha: Urk! Ah... ummm...

Nora: AUNTIE NORA is here!

Joan: Jaune, dis-moi que tu l'as enveloppé…*

Jaune: Níl… thug mé isteach sa phaisean.*

Joan/Jaune: ... God damn it!

/==/ Translations (using Google translate) -

(Irish) : Argh, I'm not drinking again! (French) : Damn, it’s true…I swear to never drink again! (Irish) : No, Ruby! It was a deep and willing expression of love! (French) : You'll understand when you're older… Cupid comes out of nowhere!! (French) : Jaune, tell me you wrapped it… (Irish) : No… I gave into the passion.

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #joan arc #weiss schnee #yang xiao long #ruby rose #nora valkyrie #lie ren #blake bellodona #google translate

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sitp-recs · 1 year

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Masterclass in smut 🔥

Happy Friday everyone! As promised, here’s a multishipper/multi-fandom smutty reclist with my personal wank bank favorite ships doing the nasty and being 100% unapologetic about it. I could maybe split these between 2 categories, evocative and downright problematique filth - y por que no los dos??? Naturally, everything’s (very) Explicit here. Bon Appétit my horniessss

Has the Touch by professorfangirl (Bond/Q, 007, 2k) - the sexiest, most intimate and organic smut I’ve ever read, #writing goals

Bond is good with his hands.

Slip Free of My Grasp by @lqtraintracks (Harry/Sirius, HP, 3.5k) - 1st person pov goals, sinful and redeeming at once. This Sirius holds my heart

I don't want to be bad for him. I want to do bad things and still be, somehow, inexplicably, good.

Sardines by @shiftylinguini (Scorbus + Jeddy, HP, 4k) - a masterpiece with impeccable atmosphere, no one has ever made borderline incest feel so light & playful

It’s bad enough his cock is hard from listening to the impromptu midnight pornography of his brother getting off; Albus is not going to add seeing it to the list of reasons why he lost his mind, and presumably his eyesight, on the eve of his grandmother's seventieth.

Tremolo by Lilsoshie, marose (Tony/Peter, MCU, 4.3k) - stream of consciousness smut with insatiable Tony and exhausted af Peter

“You’re gonna ride me,” Tony decides, easing his fingers free and cherishing the unhappy whine the move inspires. “Up, come on.”

The Lies We Live With by @bixgirl1 (Jeddy, HP, 5k) - peak angsty smut, just the tip has never hurt this much :(

It doesn’t really count… is almost always followed by a lie, James learns, growing up.

Honeyboy by dollylux (Wincest, Supernatural, 6k) - filthy underage semi-public incest, see y’all in hell 🤠

While John's running an errand in the backwoods in Louisiana, Sam finds a way to keep Dean occupied. (Sex kitten!Sammy and trying-so-hard-to-be-good-in-public-and-failing!Dean.)

Ravishing by Miss_Lv (Newt/Percival, Fantastic Beasts, 7.6k) - give me dead dove like this or give me nothing!!!

Theseus holds a dinner party at his home and once Newt plays his part, he escapes, unaware he has an admirer following him.

Toeing the Line by @shiftylinguini (Tedrarry, HP, 8k) - nothing gets me more into Harry/Teddy than watching Harry watch Draco fuck Teddy. Filthy & sweet but really, this is here for the brilliant title plus daddy kink

Draco wasn’t sure why watching his partner fuck Teddy until he screamed was somehow less morally iffy for Harry than just doing it himself, but Draco wasn’t about to judge. Not when he was balls deep, anyway.

Only As Directed by rageprufrock (Hartwin, Kingsman, 12k) - possessive love is knowing how to share :)

“Arthur is a bad man,” Roxy had said. “Fucking tell me about it,” Eggsy had muttered, and gone to put on the tarty trousers Harry had picked out for him like a fucking high-end pimp.

Burned Silk, Buckled Leather by @ruinsplume (Sirius/Draco, HP, 12k) - stunning catharsis smut, liberating and full of kink positivity

When Sirius discovers a down-and-out Draco Malfoy lurking around the edges of a Muggle kink club, he thinks he knows just what Draco needs. He isn't expecting to run into some long-buried needs of his own.

Euphoria by birdsofshore (Scorbus + Dralbus, HP, 22k) - my go-to wank material, dilf Draco can step on my face anytime

A fire is prickling in the pit of my belly. I feel a little like I'm watching this happening to someone else. Al's sitting there, reeking of another man's sweat and come. He looks miserable and anxious... but also well-fucked. I look at his mussed hair, his bitten lips. I've never wanted him more.

From Thy Bounty by feyrelay, natureboy (Tony/Peter, MCU, 32k) - masterclass in both building and resolving sexual tension

Tony’s eyes are always dark, but now there's almost no iris left. He looks hollowed out. There’s something terribly hungry there, despite the feast they've filled themselves on.

Sötnos by Miss_Lv (Newt/Percival, Fantastic Beasts, 37k) - exquisite world building, blows my mind every time

Newt was expelled from Hogwarts but his parents managed to get him into another school, Durmstrang. There, Newt is taken under wing by the kind Professor Graves, who teaches him everything he needs to know about making new friends.

Heart Toward the Highway by Edwardina (Jo Harvelle/John Winchester, Supernatural, 43k) - the only F/M story you’ll ever need to read, I promise

Jo, fresh out of high school, has left home and wound up on the road with John, trying to learn the ropes from someone who isn't exactly sharing and caring. John, distant and impatient, isn't really a partner, friend, or role model -- which means that Jo's gotta get all stupid and hot for him. Their stoic apprenticeship starts to unravel as Jo starts to run out of clothes and John can't ignore her anymore.

Breezeblocks by hellhoundsprey (Supernatural RPF, 59k) - I have no idea how I found this, I don’t even read RPF. if you’re into cuckolding + humiliation: it doesn’t get any better than this

After months of doubts and suspicions, Jake ends up catching his husband red-handed when he comes home early one Friday afternoon. A/B/O

#smut reclist #multi-fandom pwp #aka liv’s wank bank #check the tags lovelies!!!!

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bon-sides-sw · 1 month

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Post Partum funsies

See it uncensored on my Twitter

#star wars #bons art #my art #obi wan kenobi #obikin #uni au #omegaverse #pussywan #dualsex omegas #mpreg #bon filth #this was a tattoo exploration as well hehehe #anakin skywalker #modern au #lactation

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the-lonelybarricade · 1 year

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Snow On the Beach - Feysand Month

@unofficialfeysandmonth2022 Day 21 - Beach

Pure, unadulterated filth. Very little plot, very much porn. This was supposed to be a rest day but Rhysand wanted to fuck his wife on her birthday and who am I to stop him?

CW: Daddy kink, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, cockwarming, dirty talk, overstimulation, and typos probably because this is unedited. Bon apetite

Read on AO3・Feysand Month Masterlist

Rhysand had always been too extravagant when it came to gifts.

And Feyre had never been very good at accepting them.

She remembered the first time he had gotten her a diamond necklace unprompted, how she had stared at the piece of jewelry that could have probably paid for entire tuition at the community college she had attended. And she had felt nauseous at knowing there were people who could buy gifts like that on a whim—that she was dating a person who could do that.

Feyre also remembered the look on his face when she had clasped the box shut and handed it back to him, saying, “It’s too much.” Rhysand had taken it back only for as long as it had taken to finish their nice dinner and drive back to his house.

She still shuddered when she remembered the heat in his eyes when he had led her into his bedroom and put her on her knees while he unbuckled his dress pants. The way his fingers had wrapped around her throat—so delicate as he used his grip to tilt her chin up, keeping her eyes locked on his as he guided his dick into her mouth. He’d used a fistful of her hair to seat himself fully, murmuring to her what a good girl she was as her vision swam. Then, while she gagged and drooled on his cock, Rhysand had retrieved the necklace from his jacket pocket, and clasped it around her neck.

“Sometimes, Feyre,” he’d said, chucking the box carelessly over his shoulder. “I buy you gifts because I enjoy them.”

She’d gotten better at accepting gifts from him since then.

Even so, Feyre had been very clear to her husband in the month leading up to her birthday: I just want something simple.

“A bathing suit?” she mused as she pulled the red bikini out of the carefully wrapped box. Perhaps she had underestimated how obedient Rhys could be—when he wanted to be.

His flashed her a sly smile. She didn’t trust him for a moment. “I thought it would look fetching on you.”

It was nice material. Certainly expensive. She imagined it would be flattering.

“What else?” She asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at him. “I know that look, Rhysand. What have you planned?”

“Nothing,” he insisted, holding his arms up to show he had nothing else up his sleeve. She gave him the look—the one that always had him scrambling to appease her. “I just thought we could go for a swim. You’ve been saying that you miss the beach.”

“It would be freezing,” she said with a frown. “Rhysand, look outside. It’s snowing.”

He grinned, fishing a hand into his pocket. Her stomach fluttered when it returned with a satin ribbon, one she recognized very well. Just a few nights ago, he’d had that blindfold tied around her eyes while he and his friend Helion…

Feyre blushed.

“Trust me, darling,” he coaxed. She held herself still as Rhysand stepped into her proximity, and she could smell the musk of his cologne as he leaned over to secure the blindfold around her head. The scent lingered when he stepped away, taunting her with the memory of being flush against his heated body, smelling that sea salt and citrus twined with sweat and whiskey and sex. She would never get enough of it.

“I just want it to be you and me,” she said.

“On your birthday? Of course.” He took her by the elbow, pulling her from their bedroom. Across their hallway. Out the door.

Feyre would follow him blindly anywhere. She’d learned that a long time ago. It helped that he kept an arm on her hips, his lips at her ear. Always guiding her, keeping her safe. When she sat in the passenger seat, she felt him reach across to carefully buckle her in. He left a tender kiss on her cheek.

They didn’t drive far. Fifteen minutes, max. And she tried to remember what could possibly be such a short drive from their house—and involve swimsuits, in the middle of winter. An erotic photo shoot, maybe?

When they got out of the car, it was quiet. Smooth pavement clicked under her feet, she thought she might have smelled jet fuel.

“We’re going up some stairs,” Rhy murmured in warning to swooping her into his arms. And indeed, she could hear the stairs beneath his feet. Hollow. Metal. They rang with every heavy step.

Rhysand kept Feyre securely in his hold as he sat, arranging her so that she was splayed in his lap, her back flush against his chest.

Her brows furrowed. “Are we somewhere public?”

It didn’t sound like it. She could hear voices—just a pair of them. Sounding like they were in a different room. The click of a door shutting, the swoosh of a curtain sliding shut.

And then the unmistakable sound of an engine roaring to life.

Feyre sat up, but Rhysand pulled her back to his chest. “Are we on an airplane right now? Rhysand?”

He said nothing.

“Rhysand.”

“You have such a pretty mouth, wife,” he said, in a voice that settled in her bloodstream like hard liquor. His hand dropped from her hip, inching towards her inner thigh. “I can think of several better uses for it, than asking questions that will be answered with a little bit of patience.”

She hated when he used that word. He’d once had her naked and tied up for hours, never touching her save for the vibrating wand he’d held to her clit. Always pulling away right before she’d reached the edge, laughing under his breath as he chided, “Patience.”

“How long do I have to wait?” She asked, breathless as she felt his hand brush over the seam of her legs. His thumb rubbed through the denim, knowing her body so well that he knew precisely where to apply the pressure so that it landed on her clit without searching.

She squirmed in his grip and he laughed, low enough that she wouldn’t have caught the sound if his mouth wasn’t next to her ear. “That depends on what you’re waiting for, Feyre.”

“Rhys,” she warned, not ready to be teased if she didn’t know where they were. Who could be watching.

“Ah.” He removed his hand. Feyre bit her lip to restrain her whimper from the loss of friction. “My pretty birthday girl, you’re smarter than that. What do you say, to get what you want?”

Feyre turned her head to bury her face into his neck. He popped the button of her jeans open, the sound of the zipper muted against the jet engine. But she heard it.

“Is there anyone who can see?” She asked quietly.

He hummed. She could feel the vibration in his throat. “You let me worry about that.”

“Did you really hire a private jet?”

“You let me worry about that,” he repeated, more tightly. “You know what I want my wife to worry about on her birthday?” His hands slipped beneath the slackened waistline of her jeans, plenty of room now for his large hand to slip over the increasingly wet fabric. “I want her to worry about enjoying herself.”

She moaned, softly, as his thumb rolled over her clit again, more tauntingly this time. “What do you say, baby, if you want to enjoy yourself? Hmm?”

“Please?” she whispered, knowing it wasn’t what he was looking for. Too embarrassed to say it without being sure there was no one else around to hear.

“Please what?” He pulled her underwear aside, sucking in a breath as his fingers slid through her drenched cunt. “I need to hear you say it.”

He always loved to play this game. To find new ways to push her—never too much, but enough to keep her on edge. Enough to have her trembling in his arms already, wondering where he would take this. How far he would go.

With the way she was splayed over his lap, Feyre could feel every perfect inch of him harden against her ass. She couldn't resist grinding against him, eliciting a soft, wicked hiss from her husband.

Only for Rhysand to immediately swat her clit. She gasped, the sound thankfully muffled against his throat. Her sensitive skin tingled in the aftermath and she could feel herself clench against empty air as goosebumps erupted up and down her arms.

“Greedy,” he said. Every sharp edge of his voice dragged against her skin. “You have to decide right now, Feyre. Do you want to be spoiled on your birthday? Or do you still need to learn some patience?”

She wouldn’t put it past him to spend the entire flight edging her to the point of tears. Until she was so desperate she’d let him fuck her with the flight attendants watching—would likely even let them join, if they wanted.

But when Rhys said he wanted to spoil her—he meant it. His generosity was one of his favorite ways to show his love, especially in the bedroom and especially on her birthday. And Feyre decided she wouldn't waste the opportunity by being stubborn. He’d have time to fuck the brattiness out of her another day.

For now—Feyre dropped her voice low, whispered into his ear, “I’d like to be spoiled on my birthday, please, daddy.”

“Mmm better start behaving like it,” he murmured, fingers still aimless between her legs, simply admiring how much of her arousal had collected on his fingers. She knew he loved when she got this wet for him. “Birthday girls who want to be spoiled shouldn’t make such a mess of the seat, to start. Are you going to help me clean this up, Feyre?”

She opened her mouth obediently, sticking out her tongue because she knew it would please him. She heard his hum of approval in the back of his throat a moment before his hands retreated from her cunt. Then his long, elegant fingers were on her tongue. “Suck for me, baby. Nice and slow.”

Feyre’s eyes fell shut as she laved her tongue against his fingers, tasting her own musky arousal as she listened carefully to her husband’s hitched breathing. His cock twitched behind her. This time, when she ground her ass against him, Rhys groaned and bucked his hips forward.

And because he couldn’t resist, his free hand fell back between her legs, stroking lazily through her center in time with Feyre’s tongue. “Fuck, Feyre, you’re soaked. My filthy wife likes sucking on daddy’s fingers, hmm? You were supposed to help me clean this mess and now you’re dripping all over my pants.”

Her response was garbled around his fingers, and she did her best to swallow the excess moisture in her mouth, but couldn’t stop the saliva that collected at the corners, dribbling around his knuckles and down her chin.

Feyre wishes she wasn’t wearing a blindfold, if only so she could see Rhysand’s face. He loved nothing more than making a mess, especially of his wife.

“I’ll just have to take them off,” he murmured.

She was hoping he would say that.

Keeping his fingers in her mouth—because he could never do things the easy way—Rhys carefully shifted Feyre’s weight. She heard the clang of his belt buckle, and the sound of a zipper.

Then his free hand was on her hips, guiding them up and over. She felt the warm, familiar nudge of his cock at her entrance. And she understood why he kept his fingers in her mouth as she sunk backwards onto his thick, rigid length. She was so wet he glided in easily, but oh—oh—Feyre would never tire of the feeling of her husband and that first, glorious push that forced her body to accommodate to the sheer size of him. He stretched her so, deliciously full.

Even muffled by his fingers, Feyre’s moan was debauched. “Shhh." The reprimand lacked any sharpness, gave away too much of his affection. She could feel the warmth in his voice as he asked, "Do you want the pilots to hear you, Feyre? Hmm? Want them to know how good daddy fucks his wife?”

There wasn’t going to be any fucking—not for a while yet. Rhysand was all about the slow, methodical, exquisite torture. He ground his hips deeply against hers, causing her head to fall back against his shoulder as his fingers returned to her clit. To play. To tease.

“Going to keep me nice and warm, darling,” he purred, laying a trail of kisses along her shoulder. “The entire flight.”

Bastard. Bastard for keeping her fingers in her mouth, so she couldn’t argue. Or moan, when his circling fingers picked up their pace. “Of course, my pretty birthday girl deserves to be rewarded for being such a good cockwarmer, hmm? Feel so good like this, Feyre.”

And his fingers, his fingers paired with the way he grinded his hips so, achingly slow and deep against her, had stars dancing in Feyre’s vision. She shrieked against his fingers until she started to choke on them, and he just continued kissing her shoulder, murmuring, “That’s it baby. Come for daddy.”

Release built in her spine. Rhysand’s groan was soft as her body tightened and released around him. She scrambled for something to ground herself, grasping for his bicep and the armrest as her husband slowed his fingers to work her through it.

“Perfect,” he whispered. Rhys removed his hand from her mouth so he could replace it with his lips, unbothered by the drool covering her chin. He kissed her tenderly as he continued his slow circles around her clit, matching it to the deep, torturous grind of his hips. Feyre whimpered, and he used it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth.

She loved when he got like this. So desperate to touch her everywhere, until he consumed her every sense, filled her so completely that she could never turn over a piece of herself that hadn’t been worshiped by him.

When he broke away, they were both gasping. “So fucking perfect, Feyre. Now do it for me again, baby. Please.”

Rhysand used his knees to push her legs further open, ignoring her trembling body as he sped up his torment against her overly sensitive clit. She was still riding the tremor of her first orgasm, and her body twitched at the added friction. The pleasure was searing, and Feyre started babbling as she shook her head. “Just give me a second—”

“You can do it, darling,” he urged, his pace only increasing. He used his free hand to brush her hair out of her face, pulling back the strands that stuck to her wet skin so he could lavish her cheek, her forehead, her jaw with small, gentle kisses. “Such a good girl for me, Feyre. I know there’s at least two more in you before we land.”

“Two?” she whispered, breath hitching at the white hot pressure already building back up, already too much.

“You asked me to spoil you,” he reminded sweetly, still mercilessly grinding his cock against her inner walls, finding a cluster of nerves that had her—

“Rhys-ah—ah—”

“Shhh,” he slid his hand over her mouth so she could scream against it. “If the co-pilot comes back to check on you, he’s going to want a taste. I’m not prepared to share you today.”

Feyre was sobbing against his mouth as she came around him again, clenching so tightly that it bordered on pain. She wished if he was going to make her come again, he’d at least use his cock so that her abused clit could have a moment to recover.

He knew exactly what he was doing, and how much she could take. His fingers didn’t slow at all to coax her down from her orgasm, and instead she coasted from one high to the next, jerking against his cruel, methodical touch as she struggled to get away. Rhys laughed, softly, holding her still so that her only choice was to take. Her fingers dug into the soft fabric of the armrest.

“Give me another one,” he cooed. “I want to feel my pretty wife come undone on my cock again.”

She began panting heavily through her nose as she tried to stave off the blistering sensation seizing her body, turning everything white. Like someone had turned on floodlights behind her blindfold. She whimpered against Rhysand’s hand.

“That’s it, Feyre. You’re doing such a good job, baby.”

He didn’t say anything about the nails she’d dug into his bicep. He’d find the half-moons later and wear them with pride, just as he did with any lingering evidence of their sex lives.

“One more.”

“Good girl.”

And when she broke, falling apart around him once again, that was when Rhys broke too. He pushed her forward, so that she fell onto her stomach on a table she hadn’t realized had been in front of them.

Then he was driving himself into her, hard enough to bruise her hips as the cabin filled with the sound of wet, slapping skin. And it was exquisite. Feyre screamed, no longer caring who heard them as she reached for the end of the table, something to give her purchase so she could meet Rhys for every thrust.

He was gasping, all of it slurred with pleasure. Feyre and beautiful and fuck.

She was too lost in her own pleasure to pay much attention to it, lost in every perfect drag of his cock as he thrust his hips in the unhinged joining that she always craved from him. This was her Rhysand, with every carefully placed demeanor finally stripped, every noose of control cut free.

“Gonna come Feyre,” he gasped. She could feel each hot syllable at the top of her spine. “Daddy’s going to fill you up nice and good, yeah? Put a baby in my pretty wife? The perfect gift for my perfect birthday girl.”

“Yes,” she said, the easiest thing to reach for in the surge of her bliss. Yes,yes,yes,yes.

He shouted her name as he spilled inside her and Feyre relished the feeling, knowing that at the beginning of the month they had decided to stop using birth control. And they couldn’t seem to get enough of each other in the aftermath.

“I love you,” he whispered, brushing her hair aside to kiss her neck. He followed the path all the way down her spine, and then he slowly helped her up. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up before we land.”

Since he insisted she keep her blindfold on, Feyre stayed put in the seat while Rhys ran to the bathroom, and shortly returned with a wet cloth and a change of clothes from a bag she didn’t realize he’d packed.

“Just… how far are we traveling on this plane?” She asked.

He chuckled. “No use ruining the surprise now, Feyre darling.”

And indeed, it didn’t take long after that for the plane to land and for Rhys to escort her into the back of a car, holding her hand as he chatted amicably to the driver. Not the least bit embarrassed about escorting his blindfolded wife.

When they stepped out of the car, the first thing that she noticed was that it was unusually warm. Not at all the crisp winter they had stepped into that morning. And the ground beneath her feet was soft, moving.

“You can remove your blindfold, now.”

And she did, to a tropical, private beach front. Feyre’s mouth fell open as she stared across the blue horizon. “I said nothing extravagant, Rhysand.”

He was grinning as he slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I bought you a bathing suit and took you to the beach. I think that’s fairly simple.”

Prick. Stupid, lovely prick.

Feyre wrapped her arms around herself. “But I think I’m going to miss the traditional solstice snow,” she teased.

His answering grin was shameless. “I can still make it snow for you, darling.”

#Feysand #Feysand month #feysandmonth #feysandmonth2022 #feysandmonth22 #feysand fic #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction #Feyre x Rhysand

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anti-psy-chotic · 1 year

Text

Hi there! I haven't used Tumblr in forever! This account used to be something else but I changed it DRASTICALLY.

Anywho, my name is Psy. I'm a huge part of the bandom scene, here's just a few!

Metallica

Megadeth

Def Leppard

Motley Crue

Aerosmith

Led Zeppelin

KISS

Black Sabbath

Anthrax

Diamond Head

Guns N Roses

Iron Maiden

Korn

Slipknot

System Of A Down

Bon Jovi

Misfits

Danzig

Black Flag

Dead Kennedys

Van Halen

Mayhem

Darkthrone

Burzum

Beherit

Dissection

Behemoth

Children Of Bodom

Thorns

Bathory

Celtic Frost

Emperor

Enslaved

Morbid

Gorgoroth

Hulder

Immortal

Dimmu Borgir

Marduk

Satyricon

Windir

Rotting Christ

Cradle Of Filth

Hellhammer

Sodom

Xasthur

And possibly others!

I'm also always open to making new friends, so feel free to chat with me! I'm not scary, I promise!

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ashes-writing · 2 years

Text

born to be my baby | stranger things ; s.harrington

tag list babes || req rules / fandoms+characters ; open asks|| send reqs || masterlist

CHAPTERS ;

For now, this one is it. The Stranger Things masterlist is here.

AUTHORS NOTES;

Le sigh. It's only fitting I name this after a Bon Jovi song, right? Anyway... This is the result of me, envisioning a reader who is like this outrageous hybrid of madonna vibes / jersey girl vibes / 80's glam rock groupie vibes + a v. feisty persona -aka the storm to Steve's ever-present calm. So yeah. I am lowkey tempted to follow the season with the events that happen but Idk just yet..

SUMMARY;

--You were born to be my baby And baby, I was made to be your man ... and sooner or later, it'll get there.

PAIRING;

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader (beyond outfits, huge 80's teased hair and huge personality / loudness as well as female organs, reader is kept vague as I can manage. reader inserts are kind of a learning curve.)

WARNINGS;

swearing, pining -lots of, huuuge bouts of internalization from both parties, reader is a smartass and a flirt, eventual filth maybe, maybe some angst in the future, who knows. I'm uh... kind of winging it as of right now. If this one is a hit, I'll sit down and plan more.

TAGLIST;

@allelitesmut

@aurumbelis

@aries-arcade

@cole22ann

@ebonybloom

@hcloangcls

@heyaitsklaudia

@hoeshii

@hotgirlsshareaccounts

@icequeen1371

@krys-orion

@letsbedragonstogether

@louderfortheback

@musichealsscars

@oflavenderandevie

@suits-and-smirks

@secretsicanthideanymore

@scoobiessnacks

@thechoiceslookgrimm

@untitledarea are the only ones present on my taglist. if you'd like to be added, please click the link above.

OTHER STUFF;

set in S3 and may or may not follow canon events with changes (no deaths because fuck writing deaths unless absolutely necessary) , idk yet. If you guys want me to throw her into the glorious shit show that is the Upside Down, i can uh.. I'll try? Otherwise, this one might end up being a mere slice of life thing like the rest, just like if you're interested in throwing reader into the insanity please lmk, Ig? Side note, reader is 18 and has cut ties with her family, so this is also a kind of 'found family' fic of sorts. She has her own place / spends her own money, etc. Similar to Steve, in a way?

You’re roaming Starcourt Mall with two hours until you have to clock in to work your makeup counter for the afternoon. You’ve just stepped out of a lingerie store when you happen to glance across, into Scoops Ahoy.

Carol Perkins is laughing nearby, nodding to the parlor. “The mighty have really fallen, huh?” she muses with a smug grin. Nicole nudges her and whispers something into her ear and the next thing you know, they’re both looking at you.

“I love those earrings.” Carol’s staring at your favorite pair of earrings. They’re these obnoxiously big leopard print hoops. And while you love them more than life itself, you’re almost ninety five percent certain that true to form, Carol’s compliment is an underhanded one, because she’s always been a bitch towards you.

“Oh my god, how’d you get your hair to do that?” Nicole nods to the way you have your hair teased and curled. You want to laugh, you want to speak up and say the name they called you until you were crying all through school until you finally moved away, but you don’t.

“Earrings came from a jewelry store in Atlantic City.” you answer, popping a bubble with your gum and then you shrug, “My hair is an entity all it’s own.”

“It’s pretty.” Nicole gives you one of her typical plastic fake grins and you almost want to laugh, but you don’t. It’s tempting but you’re not the girl you used to be and now, looking at the two of them only a few months after high school, you’re pretty sure you’ve done more with your life in just a few months than they’ll ever manage in the entirety of their lives. And it’s not bragging, it’s not egotistical, it’s fact. They have that narrow-minded and extremely stunted mentality about them still. And it’s just low hanging fruit for you, so why bother?

“She looks like one of those models. I mean, a less expensive version, but pretty.” Carol and her underhanded compliments. You laugh, gazing at her intently. “You’re okay for a frumpy midwestern housewife.” you say it with a shrug, hints of an apologetic smile. Nevermind the fact you know damn well she's 18 or 19, you just couldn't resist. All her taunts about your nose or your teeth or your body back in high school. You feel just a little bad about doing it, but you justify the comment as you being on the defensive, after all. She did just give you an underhanded compliment.

“I’m 19.” Carol looks panicked in this moment.

“You look 35. Sorry.” you cringe a little and you’re the one with the smug look when your jab settles over her. “Look, I’ve gotta get going. It was a nice chat though?” you smile, walking across the corridor of the mall backwards so that you’re facing them, your best honeyed smile playing at dark red lips. You turn with your back to them and roll your eyes, raising a hand to your throat and Robin Buckley, one of your old best friends sees you and laughs.

“Your friends are annoying you?” Robin asks as her laughter dies away.

“They’re not my friends, actually.” you give her a hurt look. “Do you not remember me, Robbie?”

She’s gaping and then laughing and then the two of you are hugging in the middle of the ice cream parlor. “Oh my god, ___? Wow.” Robin pulls away from the hug to look at you. You shake your head and laugh, “No, nope.. You, Robbie… Whew?” you fan yourself a little.

“Not even.” Robin shakes her head.

Steve Harrington steps out of the back with a vat of ice cream to go into the freezer and he locks eyes with you.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna put the ice cream in the freezer or stand there all day?” Robin asks the question and rolls her eyes, nodding to him as she whispers quietly, “His father got him the job. I’m waiting on the day he quits.”

You’re distracted though, watching the way strands of hair fall down onto his forehead as he leans over the open back of the freezer to place in the new vat. Robin looks from him to you and she palms her forehead. “Some things never change.” she’s giving you that gentle and teasing laugh when she says it. You shrug. “Please. I grew out of the crush.” and yet, as the words leave your mouth, you’re at least fifty percent sure they’re a lie.

Robin knows it too and true to form, she calls you out on it. “Bullcrap. Total bullcrap. You’ve got that dopey look on your face right now. Lie to somebody who didn’t grow up two trailers down from you, ___.”

You pout. “I’m not lying!” you insist, laughing. “I’m not, okay?”

“When did you get back?” she asks after a few seconds.

You were staring at him again so you’re quick to tear your eyes off. Laughing softly as you twirl a strand of hair around your finger. “Around the end of May. I’ve just been busy settling in. I got my own place!” you’re grinning and clapping your hands.

“Wait..”

“I moved back by myself.” you smile, shrugging. “Graduated a year early. I mean, it didn’t matter, my parents weren’t around either way. I just wanted to hurry up and finally be on my own.” you laugh softly and Robin seems to relax just a little. “How is it, having your own place?”

You laugh. “It’s awesome.”

But it’s lonely too. To be fair, you’re not exactly a stranger to loneliness. Once you were old enough to do basic things for yourself, your parents were always in and out, never around. They didn’t care before but once you were able to fend for yourself, they cared even less.

“You’ve gotta come over sometime! It’ll be fun. I mean I’m in the midst of painting and stuff, but yeah.” you’re all smiles. Robin laughs and nods, raising a hand to tug at her hair. “Where is it?”

“Oh, you know that bar downtown? The owner is making the top two stories of the building into studio apartments.”

“The bar the cops are always at?” Robin looks concerned and you nod. “Yeah, I never go in through the bar. I go up the stairs in the back entrance.” you laugh again. “It’s not that bad, don’t freak out. I’m a big girl now. I carry that switchblade I always used to carry and I know how to fight, I mean.. C’mon.”

“I’ll have to come by.” Robin smiles, laughing at your excitement. She doesn’t blame you, honestly, and she’s really happy for you. More than anything, she’s happy you came back to Hawkins because you were one of her few friends.

“Ugh, we can have so many sleepovers!” you’re laughing, smiling bright at the thought.

Steve clears his throat, motioning Robin over.

“Who is she?” Steve nods to you. Staring hard. “She looks familiar.”

“Because she went to Hawkins High until 83. Then her family moved her to New Jersey.”

Steve’s still staring. Robin grumbles and shakes her head, laughing to herself. “She’s not your type. Trust me, Steve. Stick to your type.”

“You barely know me, Robin. How do you know who my type is?” Steve questions, gazing at her intently for a second or two before his eyes flit back to you and settle again. Robin’s not wrong, you’re not his type, but.. His type only hurts him. If they’re not hurting him, they’re only interested in whatever he has to offer them. And if it’s neither of those things, they’re only interested in sex without any attachments. And he’s slowly come to realize that he wants love. He wants something serious, he wants to feel stability just once in his life.

And the second he realized what he wanted, he stopped settling. He hasn’t been on a date in months at this point. And he tries to maintain that whole King Steve thing he had going for him but it just doesn’t seem to work anymore. Robin’s even got a scoreboard up behind the counter that she diligently marks whenever he makes an ass of himself, as if he needs or wants a reminder.

He’s just gotten so used to being the guy everyone wants him to be that it’s hard to find his footing lately.

So maybe Robin’s little statement about you not being his type does sting just a little. He’s staring at you again and Robin clears her throat. And maybe it’s because she’s finding empathy for him lately because they have to spend so much time together at work and work is easier when they at least get along just a little, maybe this is why she drags him over to you before he even has a chance to pull himself together.

“___. You remember Steve Harrington, right?” she asks as soon as you turn around.

Up close, holy shit. You’re even prettier somehow. He was not prepared for it, not at all. You’re giggling and you’ve got a strand of hair wound around your finger as you glance from Robin to Steve as you smile up at him after locking eyes with him. “Mhm. King Steve.” you almost want to kick yourself when you say it, but you’re quick to follow up with a soft little laugh and a shrug, “Or so I’ve heard.” and it’s almost as if you’re teasing just a little.

Steve’s cheeks are flushed and it’s the first time the shoe has ever been on the other foot for him. You giggle and it’s this cute little sound. Soft and dreamy almost. Then you turn your attention to Robin. “You and me, shitty chick flicks and house paint. Tonight around 9. You’re in, right? I’ll come pick you up.”

Robin’s grinning as she nods and laughs. “I’d love that. Hey, think you can make some of those brownies?” she’s fidgeting a little, giving you her best pleading look and you laugh. “Yeah. If my stove doesn’t try to burst into flames.”

“Yay!”

You and Robin hug and you air kiss her on both cheeks before pulling away. You turn and find yourself standing thisclose to Steve. You swallow hard and you try to ignore the way your breath is caught in your throat for just a second or two. Then you raise up, fluff his hair a little and wink. “I’ll see you around, king Steve.” you’re teasing again when you say it and Steve shuffles his feet as you pull away from him and slink out of the ice cream parlor, disappearing into the crowd outside.

Steve tugs at the red tie of the stupid uniform. “You’re friends with her?”

“Mhm. She lived close to me. We kind of grew up together. Everybody used to tell us we were like night and day though.”

Steve is still staring out the doors of Scoops, a hand raised and resting against the back of his head.

“She’s changed a lot.” Robin muses, shrugging.

“How?”

“Well, when she lived her back then, she had big glasses. What I used to call grandma sweaters.” Robin laughs. “Stop staring at the door, Steve. It’s not going to summon her back.”

“I wasn’t!”

“You were, dingus.”

“I was not, Robin.”

“You totally were. Do I need to add a tally to the board?”

Steve rolls his eyes at the comment.

But he wants to run into you just one more time. So when he goes out for his break around 6, he wanders around just a little. And he happens to catch sight of you behind one of the branded makeup counters in JcPenneys.

He wanders in before he can stop himself.

“Hey.”

You jump a little, turning to look at him as you’re restocking a row of foundations. “Hey! You scared me.”

“You work here?”

You nod. “For now. I uh.. One day, I want to open my own salon.” you laugh. “Anything you need? If you need a gift for your girlfriend of the week,” you gesture to the perfumes sitting on a 3 tier display on the back side of your circular counter, “I can help you find something?”

“I uh.. Don’t have a girlfriend.”

You pretend to be shocked, but admittedly, his confession does have you curious because back in high school, he had girls flocking to him.

“Sorry, I just thought...” you’re not even sure why you’re apologizing and you laugh softly about doing it. He chuckles, shrugging it off. “It’s by choice.”

“Oh. yeah, I get it. Me too.” you say it in a rush, words tumbling out on top of each other.

“Do you get breaks around here?” he asks, a hand dragging through his hair as soon as he’s taken the stupid hat off. You laugh and nod. “Just give me a second. I’m dying for a cigarette anyway.”

After stopping the manager on the floor to tell her you’re stepping out for a smoke while it’s slow, you wander back over to Steve. He smiles and the two of you wander out into the parking lot, lighting up your cigarettes as soon as you’re outside and sitting on the curb of the sidewalk. The breeze picks up a little and you glance up. “That storm is supposed to set in tonight. Just fucking great.” you grimace when you say it and Steve is staring at you while you’re staring ahead, eyes fixed on a row in the parking lot, lost in thought.

“You hate bad weather?” Steve asks, exhaling a shaky ring of smoke into the air as he tips his head back just a little. Enough that you’re focusing on the strong yet delicate line formed by the column of his neck.

“So much, oh my god. At least Robin will be there tonight.” you smile, laugh softly. You tear your eyes off and remind yourself that you’re not a kid anymore and this crush is one you absolutely cannot delve back into. You’re not his type and you never have been. It would never work.

“Yeah, that’s good.” Steve mutters. And he thinks about how he’ll be going back to that big and empty house all by himself. Where the quiet is too much and the walls are always just a second away from closing in. Where he feels the loneliest.

But he can’t tell anyone because who would even care?

You can sense just the slightest shift in his demeanor and you glance over. Studying him for a second or two, the way hair falls into his eye and the streetlamp overhead illuminates an outline of his strong facial features and you’re doing it again, you’re staring.

“It is. It won’t be so scary.” you admit, taking the last drag of your cigarette. You pull yourself to your feet and slip back on the heels you brought before your shift that you’ve been trying to break in. They’re killing your feet. But they were pretty and you could finally afford them.

You hold out a hand to him and he snickers, gazing at your hand first and then up at you. He grabs hold and lets you think you pulled him up and the two of you make your way back into the building just as the storm settles in over Hawkins.

“Great.” you mumble, flinching as thunder rolls noisily, only slightly quieted by the structure of the mall as you both roam through. After talking to Robin about where to meet up after your shifts end, you make your way back down to the department store and you get back to work.

And Robin grills Steve relentlessly about your little smoke break together. Steve has a few questions of his own and when he starts to ask them, Robin gapes at him. Then she’s quick to repeat what she told him earlier in their shift together.

“Oh no. Uh uh, no you don’t. Trust me, Steve… She’s not your type.”

It’s code for “You’re not going to break my best friend’s heart.” and on some level, Steve knows this. But the phrasing and the way she feels she has to be so protective over you just stings a little. But he knows it has everything to do with the guy he used to be.

Rather, the guy he used to pretend to be.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #// lmk whether you want this to be slice of life or 'oh shit monsters are real'. i have ideas for both ways tbh.

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