#middle line elast
Note
farmer boy!kiri driving me insane as per usua
he’s everyone in town’s favorite guy!! big and dependable and so funny!! local housewives make it a point to wear their prettiest dresses to go and visit his stand at the local market.. but he doesn’t fall for it..
doesn’t fall for anyone until you move into town.. you work at the local bakery and sometimes visit him when the bakery needs an expedited egg delivery..
he’s so smitten with you, you’re pretty, smart and he can’t take his eyes off of you.. makes it a point to lift the heaviest things when you’re around in an effort to impress you..
little does he know how smitten you are with him.. how you purposely promote custards and egg tarts just so that your bakery needs more eggs and milk.. and you have an excuse to go see him again <3
all these meet-cutes until he finally works up the courage to ask you on a picnic.. where he lets you feel his muscles like you’ve been dying to from the start.. where he lets you take off his overalls and lifts up your skirt..
where the sun warms his and yours’ skin and where only the flowers know what happened next :3
(he ate you out and bred u <3)
18+ / fem!reader
you’ve been dying to touch and feel his biceps for the longest time now because you’ve seen the way they tighten and turn exceptionally prominent whenever he picks up and tosses those big sacks of flour that you keep ordering for your bakery from him and him only.
he always greets you in the friendliest way possible whenever he swings by to deliver you the goods; a polite nod of his head and a warm “hey there, darlin’” never fail to make you weak in the knees. the combination of it, that’s sometimes even accompanied by a rather playful wink, turns your brain to goddamn mush. goodness, you’re so into him that it’s getting kind of absurd!
but to be fair, how couldn’t you be? he’s pure eye candy, with his sharp facial features, fiery eyes and messy hair of the exact same shade that he keeps tied back with the help of a single elastic, and that exposes the sides of his neck, as well as the nape, in the most delicious of ways.
his skin is tan and sun-kissed from many days spent working outside under the blazing sun, and his back is broad; he carries any kind of weight with seemingly no trouble at all. the faded, well worn jeans that he usually throws on whenever he drives to town make his ass and thighs look absolutely divine as they hang off his hips.
the sight of them makes you feel like a sleaze from the way they coax you to ogle at him so openly again and again. stealing glances as he moves around your little storage room where you keep all your ingredients, all you can see is his tight physique, his big hands, how appealingly thick his fingers are; coated with a thin layer of white powder coming from the flour.
he’s a working man, oftentimes dirty with sweat and grime whenever you just happen to be passing by his land and spot him coming back from the fields, but surprisingly enough, he keeps his nails clean whenever he comes to see you.
and it doesn’t stop just at the nails. even his face lacks the sheen of sweat his line of work usually tends to induce, because unbeknownst to you, he doesn’t leave the house before he scrubs it clean. his signature white t-shirts — each one usually adorned with a logo of his favourite sports team — are crisp and constantly smell of pleasant laundry detergent; like they’ve been freshly washed every single time. and if his hair just happens to be a mess that day — stubborn strands, bedhead and whatnot — he makes sure to hide it underneath his trusty baseball cap just so you don’t have to see it.
altogether, it shows that he’s trying to impress you. that he’s putting in the effort.
and that effort is almost enough to make an already smitten girl like yourself admit defeat and fold right then and there; in the storage room of your little bakery. to make you rest the flat of your palms against one of the shelves, and bend right over at the middle.
until the fat of your ass is peeking from underneath your pretty sundress, no panties in sight, and he’s got drool nearly dripping from his mouth at the discovery. until his fat cock is nice and snug, sheathed inside your soft cunt, and his heavy balls are tightening from the way you’re invitingly wiggling your hips against him and hurrying to make him all sticky and wet with your arousal so that he can slide in even further, even deeper.
just by looking at him, you know he’d fuck you nice and slow, and so deep that it’d make hearts form in your eyes right before they’d cross. quiet grunts would fill your ear, his breathing ragged as it tickles the side of your neck and cheek. his calloused hands would be warm against your hips; dusting flour over your dress and skin, and providing a steady weight that you could lean on and rest your tired body against any time you’d wish.
there’d be constant pressure in your lower belly — overhelming but the good kind nevertheless. the slapping of skin against skin, the stretch, the sweat coating both of your brows. the pounding, the pleasure, the passion that’d be so intense that you’d end up feeling it in the goddamn marrow of your bones even.
and then, the climax. the white noise and bliss as every nerve end buzzes with electricity that’s powerful but mellow at the same time. the feeling of warm cum eventually leaking from your poor little pussy, down your thighs, dripping onto the floor; causing a mess you both chuckle at whilst cleaning afterwards.
his forehead pressing against your spine as he hunches his back because of the prominent height difference and waits for his cock to slowly soften whilst it’s still inside of you, still stretching your velvety walls. your clothes sticking to your salt-riddled bodies as you attempt to catch your breaths and not say anything too brash or embarrassing to each other.
you want him to rail you and fuck your brains out in this tiny storage room so bad. he’s just such a… man. bulky and strong, simple and endlessly kind. his heart is as big as his tits are, and much like the rest of him, you can’t help but leer at them, too as the mixture of the summer heat and your baked delights turns too much for him to bare in that exact moment and he swiftly loses the crisp white t-shirt just so that he can survive it.
watching him as he throws it over his shoulder and keeps it there, you start to think that you could take such good care of him. that he could take such good care of you. you can already see it; a cozy house, a couple of kids. hard work, animals and endless love. fresh lemonade and cookies. creaky wooden furniture and movie nights on the world’s comfiest couch. domestic bliss.
he’s the type to kiss you goodbye and hello again whenever he walks through the front door.
your daydreams end abruptly when he tosses the last sack of flour onto the neat little pile and turns around to look at you with a face that’s all of a sudden vividly red like a tomato; from his neck to his forehead, from one ear to the other.
you’re still blinking, sweetly batting your eyelashes up at him by the time he finally gathers enough courage to ask you a question you’d thought you’d never get the chance to hear from him.
he wants to take you out on a date, huh?
#he’s so sweet oml#i’m meltingggg!!!#kirishima eijirou smut#kirishima x reader#eijirou kirishima#kirishima eijirou x reader#kirishima smut#biscuit drabbles
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
better than ever
Steve Harrington x f!reader
cw: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, unprotected sex
Just something to remind y’all I’m still here ❤️
—
Dehydrated. That’s how you feel. In the middle of the hottest month. Sticky and too warm and a little exhausted as you lay back on the bed. Hands tangled in sheets, trying to catch your breath as Steve licks you through what you think is your third or fourth orgasm of the day. In the haze of pleasure, your brains a lot fuzzy and Steve’s insatiable. Big hands gripping your thighs, moaning into you as he ruts against the damp sheets. He’s still dressed and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open.
“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” you mumble out, pushing his head away.
He hums, nips at your thigh before he sits back, smoothes his hands over your hips and grins wolfishly down at you, “They don’t call me King Steve for nothing.”
A roll of your eyes before you close them, unable to hold back the laugh. It’s a line. An absurdly dumb one so you say, “Nobody even calls you that anymore.”
The line worked though, you’re flushed and smiling ear to ear.
“Oh?” he squeezes your hips, “The first time I got you in bed you were screaming it. Remember?” He moans out mockingly, “Oh! King Steve! Yes! Right there, King Steve.”
You lazily kick his chest and roll over onto your stomach, reaching for a cup of water Steve so considerately placed on the nightstand for you. “I hate you,” you lie, feeling his hands grope your ass as you gulp down the water.
“I love you,” he mumbles out, voice sounding dazed as he jiggles your asscheeks in his hands. Then he squeezes and you feel his lips on the small of your back. Brings chills all the way up to the nape of your neck, makes you sigh before gulping down some more water.
After placing it back on the stand, you tell him, “Give me a break. Just a small one.”
“Five minutes?” he replies with a pout and you laugh, sit up and get your wobbly feet on the ground.
“Like an hour?” you offer as you turn around to look at him. He flips onto his back, looking pathetic as he puts on his best puppy dog face. Then your eyes skirt down to the tent in his pants. Ah. You can help him out. It’s only fair.
You smile and crawl back onto the bed, rubbing his hard on over his jeans as you kiss his lips softly. Steve hums, all pleased as he kisses back. You unbutton his jeans and he helps getting them wiggled down to his ankles. Your hand returns to the bulge, not as constrained by his briefs and you drag your tongue across his bottom lip. Earning a whine from him as you squeeze his cock just slightly. Steve makes the prettiest sounds. So soft and sweet. And the exhaustion you’d felt before dissipates. You want nothing more than to please Steve. Moving your hands to his stomach, you start pushing his shirt up and he gets the idea, helps pull it over his head and then he’s grabbing you for another kiss. This one is more hungry and desperate. Has you both writhing against each other and swapping muffled moans. Your hands run up his chest, skin soft and speckled with moles. They meet the tuft of hair decorated there, something you’re a little obsessed with. Makes Steve so manly. Sometimes you find yourself rubbing your face against it, loving the way it feels.
“Still need a break?” he mumbles against your lips, all smug.
You move your hand back down to his cock, squeeze it again and tell him, “Something needs my attention.”
“All yours,” he gasps, hand grabbing your waist before he licks into your mouth. Nasty in a way that’s unlike him. But he’s been particularly feral today.
You kiss down his jaw, neck, chest and abdomen until you reach the elastic of his briefs. Mouth his cock over the cotton, eyes up on him. His lips parted, soft groan slipping through as he rolls his hips up. Probably can’t help himself. With the way he was humping the mattress while he ate you out, you’re shocked he didn’t cum in his pants. Then again, Steve’s always had incredible stamina. Can fuck your for hours before he cums. Or if he does, he’s usually good to go again in an impressive time.
But you can’t wait anymore, you pull his underwear down and the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen springs out. Long, thick and curved just right. Pretty pink tip, leaking beautifully. Trimmed curly brown hair framing the thing. It’s a sight you’ll never tire of. Steve’s beautiful. Every goddamn inch. And he’s got a lot down there. You admire for a moment before you’re licking along the vein, then sliding your tongue against the edge of his head. Focus on the sweet spot for him and Steve’s moaning out, all pretty for you as he writhes against the bed.
You kitten lick against the spot, blinking all wide eyed up at him as he gazes down at you dreamily.
“You’re so pretty,” he tells you, breathless.
You laugh, “You just saying that ‘cause I’m licking your cock?”
“No,” he gasps, “You just look extra pretty doing that.”
“So sweet to me,” you pout, wrapping your hand around the base of him. You spit, saliva dripping from your lips onto his flushed tip and down the side of his cock. You stroke him then, smearing the natural lube all over his cock. Slow movements of your hand up and down, gathering more saliva in your mouth before you lower your head and wrap your lips around his tip. Steve groans, hand immediately knotting into your hair and tilts his head back.
“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes fluttering shut as you take him deeper. You use your hand to stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth, drooling down his length. Squeezing your eyes as the tip of him reaches the back of your throat, breathing through your nose as you get used to the stretch.
And your core aches now. You long to feel that stretch inside your pussy. Growing wetter by the second as you bob your head up and down, sucking when you get to the tip. Steve’s cock pulses in your mouth, you can feel it against your tongue and it makes you hum. The vibrations have Steve moaning out, tightening his grip on your hair. You squeeze your thighs together, suddenly desperate for friction. But this is about Steve right now. He’s been spoiling you all day.
You lower your hand down and cup his balls, rolling them in your palm as you suck on the tip of his cock and he keeps spewing these pretty noises and a little bit of nonsense. Stutters and compliments he can’t quite get out because it just feels too good. They break off into moans.
“That’s— oh, god, baby— you’re so fucking goo— ahh, oh, fuck…” he babbles, “Holy f— that’s it, you’re such a good girl…”
You pull off with a pop and satisfied smile, glad you can make him fall apart as easily as he can make you do it, “Yeah? All for you, baby. Just wanna make you feel good. Am I making you feel good, Stevie?”
“Uh-huh,” he nods, eyes flickering down to watch your hand stroke his length. “So good. Fuck…”
You lick the tip, all exaggerated and as slutty as you can be. Slap it against your tongue as you look at him with wide eyes and knitted brows. He whines, a broken and pathetic sound that makes you feel powerful and also, so full of adoration. He’s perfect, all easy for you. You suck him into your mouth again, go down as far as you can. Struggling to breathe, eyes closed again as you swallow around him and Steve’s panting, groaning and tugging on your hair. Cants his hips up delicately, still enough restraint not to totally fuck your face. Gentle but needy.
“Christ,” he grunts, eyes crossing as you softly squeeze his sack. “Shit…. Baby… fuck.”
Then you pull off again because you’re needier, more than desperate for him. You hook your leg over his hips to straddle him. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you grind down against him. The length of Steve’s cock catches on your folds, slides through them and coats his cock in your slick.
“Need you,” you confess, “So bad.”
Steve surges his lips up to yours, hand on your hip and the other on his cock. Guides the tip to your entrance and when it catches, your pussy sucks him up desperately. You sink down on it, the pair of you moaning in eager relief. Then you’re grabbing his face, holding it as you gaze down at him and wiggle against him. Once he’s fully sheathed inside, it’s like no other feeling. Complete, full and so deliciously hot. You sloppily kiss, riding him a little uncoordinated because you’re so desperate.
“Fuck,” he manages to mumble out against your lips, both hands on your waist as he guides you.
“Stevie,” you whine, pleading for more.
“So fucking wet for me,” he pants out, a hand grazing up your back to hold onto the back of your neck as he thrusts up into you.
It’s electric, the way you two move together in synchronized rhythm. As you grind down, Steve jerks his hips up. The sweaty, slapping sound fills the room. You keep your grip on his jaw, pulling back from the kiss just to look at his gorgeous face. He meets your gaze, looking as dazed and euphoric as you feel. The stretch is always a little difficult to get through but you’re so on and Steve looks so goddamn pretty that it makes it almost frictionless. It’s easy, it’s perfect. Complete.
Steve whines, moves his hands up to grab your face, too. And the pair of you are just staring at each other, bodies as close as they could be. Tangled in the most beautiful way. Sloppy movements because you’re both a little lost in it. Can’t be as coordinated due to the drunken love taking over. Sensual and lovely, you feel so connected to Steve. Almost overwhelmingly so.
“I love you,” you gush, can’t keep it inside.
He reciprocates, easy and just as heartfelt, “I love you.”
Your skin is sticky with perspiration and you're so wet, slick leaking down to Steve’s sack. He whines and strokes his thumb against your lower lip, and you suck it between your lips. As you're sucking on his thumb, you grind down against him. The tip of his cock stroking wonderfully against the sweet spot tucked deep inside you, the spot only Steve can reach. His eyes darken, watching you salaciously sucking his thumb.
He pulls his digit from your mouth and crashes your lips together, flips you on to your back. Kisses you passionately and filthy, uses his hands to spread your thighs. Grinds down into you deep and wonderful, holding your legs open for him. His face gets all screwed up, nose scrunching and eyebrows knitting. Then Steve’s thumb is catching on your clit, rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves as he kisses you sloppy and needy.
Steve knows exactly how to touch you, he’s perfected it. Down to a science, this boy can make you cum in seconds if he wants to. And it seems like he’s determined so he must be close. As he moves his fingers against your clit, you clench around his cock. Hands messing up his hair as you slip fingers through his locks, grabbing and moaning out for him.
“Fuck, Stevie…”
“You gonna cum for me, baby?” he asks, voice a little higher than usual, “Can feel you squeezing me, you’re close, huh?” He kisses you gently, rubs his fingers in circles against your clit faster and you whine, nodding up at him. It’s building quickly and abruptly and he’s so pretty, you can’t stop looking at him.
When it hits you, it’s intense. Has your eyes prickly with tears, your hands grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. Steve kisses back with just as much intensity, fucks you through the orgasm. Your eyes roll back before they close and you’re squeezing onto him for dear life. Stunned by the euphoria, makes you cry out. Repeatedly chanting his name.
Steve tucks his face against your neck, thrusts hard and deep before his hips still and he’s shooting his release into you. Hot and thick inside you. Makes you whimper, grab onto his sticky back and pull him close. He starts kissing against your neck and up your jaw and to your lips.
Pushes your hair back as he pulls away to look at you, fondness clouding his eyes as he tells you, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Stevie,” you hiccup back, all smiles.
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#Steve Harrington smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x y/n smut
458 notes
·
View notes
Text
Tw: female reader, slight dub-con to con, degradation, sex toys
pt.1
Happy Valentine's 💞💞💞
Bitchy mean girl, who basically forces you to come to her house every weekend with the pretext that she needs tutoring - and who's more fitting to help her fix her grades than her favourite little nerd?
You actually come prepared too, pink cutesy backpack stuffed with textbooks, footnotes, highlights and colourful markers. But the moment you step inside her house and Jess sees the sheer academic arsenal you've prepared, she burst into torching, mocking laughter. She flicks at your forehead, wiping off a single tear.
"You really thought we were going to study?" She scoffs, dragging you into her lap - smirking as she watches you panic and whine to be let go. She kisses you roughly, determined to get your lips fully wet and shiny, saliva dripping down your chin once she finally pulls away. "You're more stupid than I thought." The cheerleader grins with endearment. "You're lucky you're so cute."
She takes hold of both your thighs and spreads them apart, leering at the lacy white panties peeking underneath your skirt.
"Looks like you came prepared after all." Jess taunts, playing with the flimsy, frilly pink lining - toying with the little ribon in the middle of it. "Maybe deep down you knew this would happen." She grips your jawline, forcing your head up - eyes set on her lips. "Or ma-aybe... you were actually hoping it would." Her hand slips to your neck. "Which one is it, little slut?"
"N-no, it's not like that!" You try to defend yourself, cheeks heating up by the second. "I-I, I wasn't, I didn't-" You stumble all over your words - but your body betrays you, back arching wantonly as Jess brushes a single finger across your clothed slit. Giggling with content at your desperation, she starts rubbing you over your panties, enjoying the way you squirm and shake your head as if fighting the pleasure.
"You weren't what, nerd? You weren't trying to get yourself fucked like a proper whore?" The girl all but hisses down your throat, biting at your jugular - letting her lips soothe the initial sting. "You weren't trying to be all slutty and cute, making me want you?" You can feel her fingers finally, finally make their way down the elastic band, cupping your mound before the first digit slips inside you, forcing a lewd, breathy moan out of you. "You're so wet for me, yet you keep acting like you don't want it."
Her lips stretch into a thin, self evident smirk as she reaches for something in her pocket you can't make out from beneath her. You suck in a sharp breath, eyes still glassy from her teasing - both anxious and excited to see what's next.
"I have just the right thing for a little bratty bitch like you." Jess pulls you into yet another messy, sloppy kiss, grinning at the sight of your chin stained all over by her bright red lipstick. It makes you look so... hers. "Let's see how long you can hide your true feelings once I have you coming your brains out." She says, teeth bared with a sadistic little gleam in her dark blue eyes. You hear a buzzing sound - and then your vision fills with blurry lines and stars and raw, red - hot pleasure you can feel deep in your guts.
The cheerleader nests the small vibrator snugly against your clit, setting your nerves on fire. It's all too much - her soft, delicate hands touching you all over, the dirty whispers in your ear egging you on, the waves of ecstasy flooding your body each and every second. You try to catch your breath, but every time you open your mouth, the sounds that come out are all whiner and needier than the last.
"Aww, you're already doing so good for me, baby." Jess coos, head resting against your shoulder - holding you down tightly as your body writhes and jumps as if devoid of any control. "See? It's so much better to be honest." She presses the vibrator down once again, watching your button swell and twitch in overstimulation. "Let go completely." She licks your neck, driving you even wilder. "Let me make you mine, m'kay?"
And you think, hell, you might as well.
#yandere#yancore#female yandere#female yandere x reader#yandere smut#yandere oneshot#yandere x you#female yandere x you#female yandere x female reader
865 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐊𝐄
starring. satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro
contains. established relationships, suggestive smut, sexting, guided masturbation, sex toys, oral sex (f. receiving), squirting mentions
note. re-upload + based on an ask: what kind of foreplay do you think the jjk men are into?
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹
sexting. photos or text alone, satoru enjoys indulging himself in his favorite girl throughout the day regardless of where he is or who’s around. not only is he ever tired of anything that has to do with you, he’s also a menace who enjoys doing filthy things when he’s meant to act like a proper member of society.
he’ll open dirty photos you’ve sent while in the backseat as ijichi drives, whistling low under his breath. or taking a trip to the bathroom before a meeting—headphones already plugged in to watch a video you sent him, biting back a groan as his blue eyes remain fixed on the vision you are as you desperately ride your lavender dildo. satoru isn't a selfish man; he'll reply with a picture of him pulling down on his boxer briefs as the hem of his shirt is caught between his teeth—giving you a glimpse of his toned abs and line of white hair below his navel; trailing down to a groomed patch of curls at the base of what’s covered with elastic and Calvin Klein. he’s hard and tenting the fabric, and he wants to make sure that you know that.
my naughty girl, he thinks. like he’s not the one who starts it.
then, at that very meeting he’s lazily tapping at his phone with a thumb as he tells you what he wishes he could do to you in that very room, uncaring that it’s brazen and disrespectful to do so. satoru tells you how slowly he’ll work your sweet pussy open for himself until everyone in the room can hear the filthy sounds of your wet cunt. you were moaning and whining so loud for him in your video as you fucked yourself, and while he loves the sounds of his name on your tongue, he’d have to gag you in this room. you’ve gotta be proper and all that, y’know?
but you love that, don’t you? being made out to be a girl who’s so modest and responsible yet is seduced by a powerful man like him; as if it’s satoru who brings it out of you. like it’s all his doing that your tight cunt drools and throbs for him at odd hours of the day. like you just can’t control thinking about his dick pounding into you until you’re undressing in your room and pulling out your toy in the middle of the day.
you love being corrupted by the strongest. and he loves having you as his dirty little secret slut tucked away in his pocket. he almost can't wait to make you his wife.
𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹
dirty talk. suguru's naturally soft and smooth voice has an effect on you at all times during the day—in the early morning when it's still roughened with sleep while you two talk amongst the soft sheets and slowly rise with the sun. or how it sounds deeper over the phone when he calls you on your lunch breaks. or at night when he greets you home and you feel the rumble of his voice soothing you as he hugs you at the doorway, tucking you under his chin with a kiss to the crown of your head.
but when he’s got you pressed against the nearest surface, large hands hot over your skin, his voice becomes low and dark with need as he tells you just how he wants you. his voice washes over you like midnight waves as your thighs are quivering and spread wide for him. one of his favorite ways to arouse you is guiding you to masturbate in front of him until you’re left flushed and desperate to come. he tells you to spread your cunt for him with your fingers, tease you about needy your pussy looks drooling for him, to show him how bad you want his cock to stretch and split you open—how badly you need him to fill you up until you’re leaking his hot come down your bruised thighs. you nod along eagerly, half listening to him, half going along with whatever he says so he can give you what you want.
suguru is all charming smiles and mild manners to the world—but he can be downright cruel when it comes to teasing you. he guides your fingers into your tight hole, telling you how he can imagine your hot walls tightening over your fingers and how he loves the way your greedy cunt sucks him in. but it’s not enough, is it? your delicate fingers can’t compare to the thick of his throbbing cock pounding into you—you can’t fuck yourself the way he does. it just isn’t the same. he coos into the shell of your ear as tears gather in your sweet eyes. suguru’s pretty voice lowers into a sinister whisper.
poor thing. look at you, crying for me to fuck you. what a slut. why don’t you beg me? sing for me, my sweet canary.
𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹
toys, edging. you’re the light of kento's life, the morning sun that promises better days ahead. you give him hope after several years of meandering through life. that said, you’re also the one to make him question his own principles. he’s a disciplined and unshakable man who can’t be swayed by the words or opinions of others, except for you. toys are a common occurrence for you during sex—he’s patient and calm as he presses the small vibrator over your twitching clit, eating up your whimpering moans and breathy gasps like nectar. he’s not done until his hands and wrist are wet and messy with your juices and your eyes are rolled to the back of your head as you come down from your high. kento likes to make you come at least once before he even unbuckles his own belt. in the privacy of your bedroom, he enjoys watching you unravel before his eyes alone.
you're his very own angel laying in black silk.
but you’ve got an exhibitionist streak that he finds inappropriate and in need of correction. so for every time you try to seduce him in public, he punishes you in a similar fashion the next morning before work. you sit on the edge of the bed as he kneels before you, soft legs over his shoulders while he works the small toy into you. as bratty as you can be, you’re quick to pout and whine at him for being so mean. kento ignores this, eyeing how wet your cunt is before the day has truly even began. he rubs your thighs soothingly as he explains how the day will go. how he’ll control your pleasure as he sees fit and how he expects you to continue acting properly. you’ll be at work, he doesn’t want anyone else to know just how insatiable and slutty you can be.
he sits at his desk in his downtime with the app open on his phone, straight faced as always as he alternates the speed and intensity of the vibrations throughout the day. at the end of the day, he comes home and quietly loosens his tie as he watches you writhing on the couch. there’s a few buttons undone from your blouse and you’re rubbing your thighs together while trying to focus on the tv, but you’re not touching yourself. you’ve learned your lesson.
𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹
oral sex. a classic, and he’s fucking good at it. also, he loves eating pussy (when it’s someone he cares about). laying you back against a surface, manhandling you and guiding you to sit your pretty ass against his face where you belong, or flipped around as you work his cock with your small mouth. anyway he can have you, he’s buried in your sweet cunt. toji is a man with many vices, and you’re at the top of them all.
he’s nasty about eating you out. alternating between his tongue and fingers, quick or painstakingly slow, chasing that unbelievable high of having you squirt all over his thick forearm and making a mess of him. it’s with him that you discover even being able to squirt, and it confused him to see you tearing up with shame as you shakily apologized to him after the first time. why? it’s the sexiest thing he’d ever seen and he coaxes confidence out of you until you realize just how natural it is and how nothing about you will ever deter him. slow and heady like haze, toji shows you just how much pleasure you can attain merely from his mouth.
toji makes out with your pussy, grunting into the heat of you as he works his tongue up and over your puffy clit. the squelching of your juices fills the room and only makes him strain against his pants. the taste and smell of you alone can set him off—sometimes inhaling deeply before he even begins and relishing in the way it makes you squirm. but don’t get bratty with him; try and tell him to hurry up and you’ll meet the harsh slap of his palm over your sensitive pussy. he’ll give you a few more slaps for good measure too. he doesn’t fuck with brats. (he does, he just loves putting brats in their place).
#starring: satoru gojo#starring: suguru geto#starring: nanami kento#starring: toji fushiguro#gojo x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo smut#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#nanami x reader#nanami x you#toji x reader#toji smut#toji x you
640 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello! i saw u were hoping for more eddie requests (or less marauders requests, was what you were getting at i think) n i was wondering if u had any thoughts on summer with eds? maybe night swimming…making out on a towel in the back of his van…lots to consider…
p.s. — ive yet to request anything from you, so this is my first chance to say how much i love your work! 🩷
Okay okay, you guys are wearing me down about writing summer blurbs. Twist my arm! Thanks for requesting love ;)
cw: pg-13 smut, mention of not eating
Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 858 words
Eddie’s hair has dried frizzy, which doesn’t give you a lot of hope for yours. His skin is still sun-warm, and you shiver for reasons that are multiplying by the minute, pressing close as he mouths over the dip where your neck meets your shoulder. You’re not sure exactly how you’d ended up in Eddie’s lap. You’d climbed in the back of his van to get a towel, and somehow that towel had ended up spread beneath the both of you, scratching lightly at your bare shins as the sun slips below the horizon and your boyfriend brutalizes your neck. He bites down just this side of too hard, making you gasp.
“Eddie,” you plead, fingers winding in his hair. “We can’t do this here.”
He releases the skin of your neck with a lewd suctioning sound, moving to that place under your ear that gets you melty like a popsicle in July. His hands grip your ass, squeezing indulgently as you squirm in his lap. “Says who?”
“Says—” He kisses that favored spot and your head falls to the side to accommodate him, an embarrassingly needy sound escaping you. “—says, I don’t know—the cops.”
Eddie’s laugh is so raucous he has to pull away. You’re not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. His hands slide to your hips, grounding you as he looks at you with eyes wide and incredulous. “The cops?” he asks.
You swallow, nodding. You have this horrible vision of Jim Hopper himself getting a call about the suspicious van parked by the lake, coming over and shining a flashlight into the open back doors to find you both naked and in the middle of things.
Eddie laughs some more, shoulders shaking with it, and you can’t help but snicker a little too just because he is. “Baby, the cops don’t give a shit about what we’re up to. I’m sure they have better things to do.”
You shoot him a look, because you both know damn well that when Hawkins isn’t being threatened by monsters from a parallel universe, it’s completely dead around here.
“Let’s go back to your place,” you urge. “This towel’s all wet anyway, and I wanna shower.”
Eddie makes himself at home in the juncture of your neck again, kissing lazily. “S’not enough room in my shower for both of us,” he complains.
“We can pick this back up after, I know—shit, Eds—” Without warning, his hand slips up to palm your tit, pushing aside the scant covering of your swimsuit. You try to sound reasonable. “I know I taste like lake water.”
“Mhm. It’s hot.”
“It’s gross.”
“You’re gross.” He pauses, lips lifting momentarily from your shoulder. “Okay, wrong comeback. I’m distracted. It’s not gross, baby.” His grip tightens on you a second before he licks up the side of your neck, holding you in place when you squeal and try to get away. “Mm, yummy lake water.”
“You’re disgusting,” you laugh, leaning back and setting your hands on his shoulders so he can’t try it again.
“Aw, come on.” A thick finger slips under the elastic of your bikini bottoms, tracing a line around your hip as his other hand squeezes your boob lightly. Eddie grins at your tiny inhale. “Have a little fun.”
“Eddie,” you say warningly.
“Yes?” Another finger joins the first, your swimsuit stretching to accommodate them.
“I want to go home.” You imbue your voice with as much firmness as you can. When Eddie pouts, you go for the kill. “I’m getting really hungry.”
Immediately, the wickedness leaves his expression, replaced by a sweet concern. “Yeah?” The elastic of your swimsuit snaps back into place, and you jolt. Eddie flattens his palm over the spot, rubbing apologetically. “I forgot, you barely had anything for lunch. You wanna drive through somewhere?”
“No, I can make it until we get home,” you say softly, backpedaling a bit in the face of his caring. “I’m not dying, just a little hungry.”
Eddie’s mouth pulls to one side. “You sure, sweet thing? It’s a bit of a drive back. We could grab McDonalds.” Your eyes widen, and his grin makes a return, this time crooked and dorky. “Yeah?”
“That sounds amazing,” you admit. “Do you think they’ll give me a hashbrown even though it’s not breakfast yet?”
“I’ll make sure they do.” He eases you off his lap, reaching over to close the back doors. You start looking around for your flip-flops. “I think they’re serving breakfast all day now anyways.”
“Ugh, awesome.” You imagine the greasy taste, and your mouth floods with saliva. Shit, you actually are pretty hungry. Eddie climbs into the front seat, reaching for your elbow to help you over the console behind him. The material of the seatbelt feels warm and rough against your skin. “Just to be clear,” you say, “I didn’t mean that I wasn’t having a good time. We still should have a re-do later, after food and showers.”
Eddie huffs a laugh, turning the keys in the ignition so the van rumbles to life underneath you. “No need for a re-do, baby. We’re just having an intermission.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x self insert#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson one shot#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fandom#stranger things x reader
466 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wound Care
Ok so, take this with a BIG grain of salt, because I may be a medical doctor BUT you need to know how much wound care training we get in medical school: none. Zip. Zilch. There may be medical schools where you do, but mine wasn't a bozo factory and there was NO wound care training. Everything I know I learned from one of several sources: an intensive 2-day wound care course I did in residency (highly recommend), the local Home Health wound care nurse (highly recommend), a completely batshit insane old white male doctor who started our learning sessions by yelling Vietnam War stories at me (do not recommend), a hospital wound care nurse (highly recommend), and experience (oh god do not recommend).
The first thing you need to know is that wound healing varies dramatically across the course of a lifespan. Kids? Kids will heal. If they don't, get their ass to a pediatrician because there's something genetic going on. Young adults will heal. Middle-aged adults will heal. You know who doesn't heal for shit? The elderly, and people with severe illnesses, and people with uncontrolled type II diabetes.
Your body needs several things in order to heal. It needs macronutrients, so you need to be able to EAT protein, fat, and carbs. If you are on total parenteral nutrition, aka TPN, aka IV nutrition, you are going to be worse at healing. If you are starving yourself, you are going to be worse at healing. If your body is desperately funneling all the calories you take in to surviving your COPD or cancer, you are going to be worse at healing.
It also needs micronutrients. If your diet sucks, you won't heal. Take a multivitamin once in a while.
There are two CRITICAL skin components to healing: collagen and elastin. Guess what we stop making as we age. Promoting collagen isn't just good for "anti-aging," it's good for NOT ripping your skin apart. Taking oral collagen is probably bullshit because your body is going to have to disassemble it to get it across the intestinal membranes to absorb, but it's also harmless, and if your diet REALLY sucks, who knows. Give it a try. Collagen is made of amino acids; think protein.
Another absolutely crucial component is blood flow. As people age, they start to develop cholesterol plaques lining arteries that eventually pick up calcium deposits. This makes blood vessels less elastic, which is a problem, but eventually also blocks them off, which is a much bigger problem. If someone has the major blood flow to their feet decreased by 90% by arterial stenosis, they are not going to heal for shit AND their foot's gonna hurt.
One component of blood flow I hadn't thought about before going into medicine is fluid retention. The way your body works, blood exits the heart at a very high velocity, but slows to a crawl by the time it gets into capillaries, the smallest blood vessels in the body. Water is a very small molecule and can leave the blood vessel, especially if there aren't big, negatively-charged molecules like proteins like albumin in the blood vessels to hold the water there. And we're built for this--some water is supposed to leak out of our blood vessels when it gets to real little vessels. It gets taken back up by the lymphatic system and eventually dumped back into the bloodstream at the inferior vena cava. But if you aren't making albumin--for instance, in liver failure--you may leak a LOT of fluid into the tissue, so much that your legs get swollen, tight, the skin feeling woody and strange. This isn't fixable by drainage because the fluid is everywhere, not in a single pocket we can drain. And because it puts so much pressure on the tissues of the skin, it often results in ulcers. Congestive heart failure, liver failure, kidney failure--these are all common causes of severe edema, aka swelling due to fluid in the tissues. And they're a real bitch when it comes to wound care, because we have such limited resources for getting the fluid back out, which is a necessary first step to healing.
Pressure is another common cause of wounds. Pressure forces blood out of those little capillaries, so you starve the cells normally fed by those capillaries, and they die. It's called pressure necrosis. Very sick people who can't turn themselves over--people in the ICU, people in nursing homes--are especially prone to these wounds, as are people with limited sensation; pressure wounds are common in wheelchair users who have lost some feeling in the parts of their bodies that rub against those surfaces, or diabetics who don't notice a rock in their shoe.
So, if you're trying to treat wounds, the questions to ask are these:
Why did this wound happen?
-Was it pressure? If it's pressure, you have to offload the source of the pressure or else that wound will not heal. End of story. You can put the tears of a unicorn on that thing, if you don't offload the pressure it won't heal.
-Was it fluid? If it's fluid, you have get the fluid out of the issues or else it won't heal. You can sometimes do that with diuretics, medications that cause the body to dump water through the kidneys, but that's always threading a needle because you have to get someone to a state where they still have juuuuust enough fluid inside their blood vessels to keep their organs happy, while maintaining a very slight state of dehydration so the blood vessels suck water back in from the tissues. You can use compression stockings to squeeze fluid back into the vessels, but if they have arterial insufficiency and not just venous insufficiency, you can accidentally then cause pressure injury. The safest option is using gravity: prop the feet up above the level of the heart, wherever the heart is at, at that moment, and gravity will pull fluid back down out of the legs. Super boring though. Patients hate it. Not as much as they hate compression stockings.
-Was it a skin tear because the skin is very fragile? This is extremely common in the elderly, because they're not making collagen and elastin, necessary to repairing skin. If this is the case, make sure they're actually getting enough nutrition--as people get into their 80s and 90s, their appetites often change and diminish, especially if they're struggling with dementia. And think about just wrapping them in bubble wrap. Remove things with sharp edges from their environments. I have seen the WORST skin tears from solid wood or metal furniture with sharp edges. Get rid of throw rugs and other tripping hazards. I had somebody last week who tried to a clear a baby gate and damn near destroyed their artificial hip.
The next critical question: why isn't it healing?
-Are you getting enough nutrients? Both macro and micro?
-Are you elderly?
-Are you ill?
-Do you have a genetic disorder of collagen formation?
Fix why it's not healing and almost anything will heal. If you're diabetic, find a medication regimen that improves your sugars and stick to it. If you're anorexic, get treatment for your eating disorder. If you have congestive heart failure, work with your doctor on your fluid balance. Wear the damn pressure stockings. Prop up your feet.
If, after those two unskippable questions are done, you want to do something to the wound--apply a dressing, do a treatment--that's a whole other kettle of fish. I'll write that later. The dryer just sang me its little song and I need to put away the laundry.
668 notes
·
View notes
Note
hii i love ur stories, and i was wondering if you could do a one-shot where ellie won't admit it, but she LOVES being a sub and just listening to you 🫣
SUB!TOP!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER
mdni please<3
warnings: 18+!! sub!top!ellie, oblivious!reader, making out, a liiiitttleee of thigh reading, js smut
writers note: im a sucker for dom!ellie but my first req was sub!ellie and now it just has a separate place in my brain.. yeah, i need both. switch!ellie lover i guess💪💪 also this ones sub!top!ellie because im soooo in love w her like awshhzhsv
you always saw ellie as the firm, rough and confident one. as the 'don't tell me what to do' one. and definitely the straight-forward one. you wouldn't even think it's the complete otherwise, especially not while grinding on her lap. your lips were connected for a few minutes now, and everytime you pulled away to catch your breath a line of saliva built a bridge between you. you were needy, ellie desperate and the whole situation really messy. quite a combo.
"ellie..." you whined after freeing your tongue.
she pulled you back into her, holding onto the back of your neck. "what is it, doll?"
"mhh-" a week sound escaped your mouth, as you struggled to calm down and not act as if you just ran a marathon (because you didn't, of course, but that's how you felt). "touch me..."
you didn't realize she kept her hands only on your head because she was shy. you never thought she could be shy at all. your request, though, awakened something in her. she hungrily slid her slim fingers beneath your shirt, where they rubbed soothing shapes into your skin.
"like that?" she laughed, or at least you guessed she did, because the sensations made it hard for you to tell.
your answer was a one word, but a keyword. "more."
with that, her hands unfastened your bra and threw it somewhere on the ground. she turned you around, making you lean your back on her chest. your shirt covered the scene - her playing with your hard nipples, that didn't feel so sensitive until now. her hair fell on your face, slightly covering it, as she bowed her head to kiss your neck. your pussy sent a needy impulse through the rest of your body, signaling you this is what you needed, before the pulsating changed it's message to a 'not enough'. ellie seemed to notice it, and one of her hands untied the knot of your cute pyjama-shorts. the elastic at your hips widened to make room for her hand, and it carefully slipped underneath the waistband, though stayed on top of your underwear. she followed the wet path with her middle finger, arriving to it's source. she didn't put any pressure onto your body, leaving you unsatisfied.
"please- please, do it." you nodded, fighting the urge to press her hand towards you.
she was more than happy to do it, her hand avoiding now also your panties and making contact with your bare body. you shuddered at the coldness she brought with her, but things quickly got heated.
your head found support in her shoulder, resting on it, as her pointing finger rubbed your clit and the next two lazily waited at your entrance, collecting everything that came out of it.
"do you want me to do it?" she asked. it wasn't the taunting, teasing, playful tone. it was a concerned, shy and hesitating one. one you weren't used to hear from her.
you frowned, wiping your wet, drooled mouth with the palm of your hand. "are you... really asking me that?" you wanted to add '...or am i dreaming?' but that was too much for you now, and your throat refused to work.
"i only want to do things you want me to do." she whispered, sounding almost ashamed about admitting that.
she continued the trail of sappy little kissed on your neck, somewhere where the vocal cords are, and you thought that's the main reason they're not working.
you couldn't hide your surprise but stayed quiet, though not really by choice. she thanked god you couldn't feel her own wet spot, which was probably bigger than yours and still growing each time you asked her to do something for you. even if your commands weren't out of your dominance, even if you had no idea how they turn her on, she only waited for you to ask for more, or less, anything would satisfy her, as long as she can satisfy you.
#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams x you#ellie x reader#ellie x y/n#ellie tlou#reqs open#ellie the last of us#wlw smut#ellie williams smut#ellie smut#sub!top!ellie williams#sub!top!ellie#sub!top!ellie x reader#top!sub!ellie williams#top!sub!ellie x reader#sub!ellie#sub!ellie williams
787 notes
·
View notes
Note
12 -mutual masturbation while camping in a tent.
maybe tough girl finally gets to go on the annual camping trip :)
A/N:Thank you for your request angel, the way I had to write this immediately. I love this, I love you and I love them. 💗 this request comes from my completed series All I Really Want Is You but can be read as a stand alone. All you need to know is he calls you Tough Girl, you’ve been dating a year and he’s got a dog named Bandit.
wc: 2k
warnings: 18+, established relationship, age gap (reader is 30 and Steve is 42) slight somno I guess? reader is touching herself but not him, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, semi public.
AIRWIY!older!steve x fem! reader
The birds chirping stirs you first, the sunlight leaking through the half opened flap at the front of the tent, second. Eyes shifting behind closed lids that aren’t ready to open yet, the soft sound of Steve’s slumbered breathing next to you brings the beginning of a smile tugging up at the corners of your lips. The clinking of metal from Bandit’s leash outside is what finally gets you to open your eyes. You’d heard Steve in a daze take him out to pee before letting him bring in the sunrise outside the tent, quickly realizing this was the dog’s favorite part of these getaways.
The air mattress makes a noise that has you cringing when you roll over on the spread out sleeping bags to get a better look at him, the fresh humidity making your skin stick to it. You can’t stop that sigh that slips past your lips at the sight as he takes up room on his back. His permanent bed head is even messier than normal from a night under the stars with your hands in his hair and the stubble that lines his jaw rubbing the inside of your thighs raw. Rejuvenated after a shower that washed off the first two days of the trip.
The streaks of gray that sprinkle through his honey locks stand out even more in the daylight. The crows feet and laugh lines that you’d like to think got deeper in his first year with you are smoothed out in his sleep. You can’t help but wonder what he’s dreaming about, secretly hoping it’s you and not just the morning that has the blood rushing south.
His chest is bare, the dark thatch of hair in the middle looking soft in the warm light, the moles and freckles that dot his tan skin beg to be kissed, just like the sun had the pleasure of doing all weekend. One leg is kicked out of the covers, revealing a low hanging pair of black mesh shorts giving you a peek at the faint hint of a tan line from your days hiking down to the lake. A big hand lays spread across his stomach while the other looks like it got halfway across the small space between you on the search for yours before he fell back asleep.
Your thighs press together in your small sleep shorts, searching for some kind of friction that you know won’t be enough for the low simmer that’s already started deep in your gut. Why did he always have to look so good?
Steve licks his full lips, and you can’t help the way your hand starts to wander towards the ache between your legs that’s begging for attention. Fighting with your self control, your nerves ring in your ears and you swear the birds outside get louder when the tips of your fingers start to play with your waist band.
You freeze when he grunts, blunt nails scratching his stomach making the muscles in his pecs flex. The slight pinch of his brows when something happens in his dream is enough for you to push past the elastic, your fingertips meeting your already dripping folds with a shaky breath through your nose.
Your hips roll, your pointer and index finger spreading your lips apart before the pads of them catch your bundle of nerves when you drag them back up with enough pressure to make you whimper. They don’t feel as good as his, and your heavy lidded gaze focuses on his hand spread across his stomach as you add a third finger to try and mimic the feeling. It’s almost enough and it makes you have to bite your lip to keep quiet, the sound of how wet you already are is almost enough to compete with the growing sounds of the woods coming alive.
“Fuck - honey,” Steve’s voice startles you, thick with sleep and the unmistakable gravel of want, “Why didn’t you wake me up if you needed me so bad huh?”
Your eyes meet his, and all you can do is whine in response when you see all the colors usually inside of them first thing in the morning are gone. The bright greens and gold specks are replaced with something dark and hungry, jaw a little slack while his own hand reaches down, squeezing his now fully hard length over his shorts to relieve some of the throb.
“You know I’d never say no to you,” He whispers, his own hips rocking into his palm. You start to push two fingers in, your greedy walls fluttering despite the embarrassment of being caught making heat rise to your cheeks. “What’s got you so worked up baby?”
He pushes his shorts half way down his hairy thighs, the full thickness of his cock smacking against the dark trail on his stomach. Already leaking, the fat tip of him looks angry as he wraps his fingers around the base, the pad of his thumb swiping over the top making him shudder. He pumps once, twice before rolling over on his side, kicking his shorts all the way off along with the blanket exposing you both to the morning air.
“Come on, don’t be shy now.” He’s closer like this, your noses almost touching and you can smell last night's bonfire still lingering. His eyes roam your body while his wrist sets a slow pace watching your nipples pebble under the thin fabric of your tank when a light breeze ruffles the walls of your tent.
“Y-you - you just looked so good.” Your confession sounds pathetic, but it makes his eyes squeeze shut and a deep breath exhale through his nose, cock twitching in his big hand before he opens them again.
He leans in so his lips ghost against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom one before licking into your mouth to steal your breath with the kind of kiss that was usually reserved for late nights after a couple of bottles of wine.
“Take your shorts off, be good for me and let me see honey.” He pants, already wrecked, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before shifting to sit up, the air mattress making you bounce with the redistribution of his weight giving him the perfect view down every curve and dip of your body.
Listening to him, you feel more exposed than ever with your legs spread wide despite no one being around. Steve groans at the visual of you like this, the motions of his wrist getting quicker while his free hand reaches down to pull up your tank by the hem, the soft fat of your breasts spilling out for his hungry eyes. It feels dirty and new, touching yourself like this for him and it only adds to the growing slick between your thighs.
“God, I’m so lucky - can’t believe you're mine. Wakin’ up to you like this? So damn pretty, baby - shit.” He groans, already babbling, squeezing hard at the base of his cock when he sees your arousal gleam in the sunlight every time you pull your fingers out, drunk off watching them disappear again.
“I want you all the fucking time, Steve.” You whine hips pushing up when you add a third one, back arching when he tweaks one of your nipples.
“Yeah?” He asks before spitting into his hand, the slick sounds of his palm working his length even harder blending in with the messy way your walls suck you in. “Tell me about it.”
You nod, completely gone by hearing him talk to you like this, curving your fingers just right to hit the spot that makes you keen. A strangled noise leaving his throat when he clocks the way your thighs start to shake, your mind racing with thoughts of him. He needs you to come soon, and when he sees the pad of your thumb start to rub messy circles on your puffy clit he knows he doesn’t have to hold off for very long.
“You’re just so sexy all the time,” it’s your turn to babble and the breathy laugh that leaves him makes you clamp around your fingers even tighter despite wishing you could roll your eyes, “Those fucking running shorts, your suits, god I want you to bend me over your desk so bad. I think about it all the - ohhhh- a lot.”
“Jesus - baby, m’gonna have you meet me for lunch when we get back, god wear that short little dress, yeah? I’ll give you what you want, shit - anything you want.” He stutters feeling himself start to get close, your confessions bringing him to the edge.
“I - mmm- I won’t wear any underwear.” You giggle before your mouth falls open, the band inside of you dangerously close to snapping at the thought of him behind his desk and the predatory way he’d watch the sway of your hips knowing you’re bare and already soaked for him underneath.
“Dirty girl,” He moans and you hear the back of his head slide against the tent, “my dirty girl.”
Looking up, your eyes roam the way his chest heaves the closer he gets to his climax, sweat beading and starting to drip down his neck where the veins protrude. His gaze is heavy and hot, and it doesn’t leave you, it begs you to fall apart for him. He watches how your eyes glaze over, completely wrecked at the sight of him and the corner of his mouth turns up.
“Gonna be good and come for me now?” It’s soft when he asks despite how filthy the sounds echoing in the tent are, and when you nod with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, his grin widens. “Of course you are, always so good, so sweet.”
The last part comes out strained, his cock twitching catching the way your thighs start to shut when the drag of your fingers in your cunt becomes deliberate. You were close. The hand that he’s kept on the dough of your breast reaches down to pull your knees apart tutting under his breath.
“I wanna see it, let me have it, come on baby.”
His words are enough for you to push your head back into the pillow, your leg fighting against his firm grip to shut as the rubber band finally snaps. His name falls from lips long and drawn out, a high pitch whine that turns into a gasp and a shuddered loud moan when he pushes your hand away to replace it with his. Thick fingers collect everything you give him, pulling even more from you when he dips inside to hit the spot you could barely reach, praising you as you come even harder.
The feeling of your velvet walls squeezing tight around him brings Steve over the edge, gasping your name with a guttural groan that vibrates from his chest as he spills across his thighs and stomach. Chest heaving from the force of it, the visual of you spread out and falling apart for him makes him see white with his release.
The only sounds are your labored breathing, and a forest that’s come alive in the daylight. You hear Bandit shuffle around to move to another spot following the moving sun as it gets higher in the sky, warming the tent more. Steve is gentle when he pulls out of you, bending down to kiss your sweaty forehead before grabbing his basketball shorts. He chuckles, wiping himself down feeling like a teenager again with nothing else around to clean himself up, your breathy giggle making his teeth shine in a wide grin before he lays himself back down.
There’s zero hesitation to pull you to his chest despite the growing stickiness with the heat, peppering kisses across your face before collecting your lips in something a little sweeter.
“Morning, tough girl.”
#my writing#leighanne practices smut blurbs#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington fanfic
759 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hand Necklace (3 of 4)
Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader
Content & Warnings: wall sex, floor sex, clothes ripping, rough sex, possessive / protective Simon, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), mating press, established relationship
Word Count: 940
A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series
Simon's possessive nature takes over.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // hand necklace masterlist
When the key slides into the lock, and you hear the familiar click of the deadbolt, you sigh with relief.
The rain is coming down in sheets, and you’re soaked, the black cocktail dress you’re wearing nothing more than a limp rag. You step inside the apartment you share with Simon, shivering slightly once you’re through the door. When the door shuts, you check the locks. It’s a habit Simon has drilled into your head time and time again.
Groaning, you reach down to take off a heel, wanting to be out of these fucking torture devices. The moment your gaze flicks upward from the floor, you freeze, noticing the figure standing at the end of the short entrance hallway.
“Simon?”
He steps into the small slash of moonlight that somehow—impossibly—comes through the tiny window at the very top of the front door. Simon is without his balaclava but there is still some smudged eye black, as if he couldn’t wash it all away. Other than that, Simon is in his casual clothes: black joggers, black socks, and a black t-shirt that stretches tightly over his muscles.
“Have fun?” he asks. Simon’s tone is flat, and usually that means he’s up to something.
“You already know the answer. Probably watching me instead of playing games with Soap on Discord,” you tease, aware that you’re pushing his buttons.
Simon is notorious for knowing your every step and breath. It’s haunting just how precise he is on exactly where you are and what you’re doing at all times. Most people might call that overbearing or even obsessive, but it only makes you feel safe. It means Simon is always there, and you can rely on him to come for you when you need him the most.
He starts taking slow, precision-laced steps toward you. “I watched you, and played with Johnny. That’s what having two screens is for.” The tips of his fingers brush against the bit of exposed bare thigh. “Did anyone touch what’s mine? Do I need to cut off some hands?”
“Stop that, Simon,” you chide, smacking his solid chest, only to grimace and shake your hand with how fucking hard his pectorals are. The man is a goddamn wall.
“No hands? What about throats?” Those fingers that are only grazing against you become a full, warm palm. Simon’s fingers dig into your flesh, and he uses that leverage to draw you even closer to him.
“You know it’s never that serious,” you murmur.
Simon’s answer is a low growl as he grabs the front of your neck and pushes you up against the wall. He traps you with his body, creating a cage you cannot escape from. He is so large like this, and it only sends your body into a heated tingle, the place between your thighs warming with need.
With a swiftness that steals your breath, Simon slides his free arm behind the backs of your thighs, lifting and pinning you against the wall. Your legs part easily, wrapping around his middle. Your arms go up and lock behind his neck. The black cocktail dress you wear has nowhere to go expect up, collecting at your waist, exposing your pussy to him.
“You’re not wearing underwear,” growls Simon.
You smirk, and reach down between your bodies, pushing down the elastic band of his black joggers until his cock is free. Simon is already hard, and he groans when you palm him.
“I like to make it easy for you,” you tease, smiling softly.
Simon’s next move is anything but soft. He drops his hand from your neck to adjust his grip, moving both hands to your hips. You’re truly pinned to the wall, unable to go anywhere. Simon knows this, and he lines the head of his cock up to your entrance, thrusting forward in one swift buck of his hips.
“Oh—Fuck!” you cry out, immediately clenching around him.
“Dirty. Fucking. Girl,” grunts Simon between each thrust.
He is relentless, fucking you until the photographs on the wall shake and fall off their mounts, clattering to the floor. Simon buries his face in your neck, nips at your skin, and then guides you away from the wall, bouncing you on his cock as he stands there.
“Simon,” you moan, urging him to take this elsewhere. “Bedroom.”
“No. I’m fucking you right here.”
Simon guides the two of you down to the floor. His cock slides out of you as you lay flat on your back. You start to reach for him, but Simon only grabs at your dress, fingers curling at the neckline.
“Sorry, love,” he says before ripping the dress right down the middle. “Can’t wait.”
You’re too shocked to say anything because Simon is pushing your legs up toward your chest, baring down on the backs of your thighs only to slide home again. Simon does not use the floor but your throat as his anchor.
Both of his hands slide up your body and grab hold, truly keeping you against the floor. Simon’s grip is strong but not enough to steal your breath. You’re utterly dominated, and it’s fucking amazing.
Simon’s pace is relentless, hitting deep, claiming every bit of your pussy for himself. This always happens when you come home. He has to mark and reclaim every single inch of your body. And fuck—he’s doing exactly that, groaning above you with each thrust.
“Who do you belong to, love?”
“You.”
“Say my fucking name.” Simon snaps his hips forward, stills and slowly grinds his pelvis against your clit until your body quivers.
“You, Simon. Always you.”
“Goddamn right.”
taglist:
@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @cinnabeanz @berarenado @rogerrhqpsody @josephquinnschesthair @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley fanfic#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley smut#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley fic#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x female reader#simon riley fanfiction#simon riley fanfic#simon riley imagine#simon riley fic#simon riley smut#simon riley x f!reader#simon ghost smut#ghost smut#ghost simon riley#ghost fanfiction#ghost fanfic#simon ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x reader#ghost x female reader#ghost x f!reader#cod ghost#ghost call of duty
331 notes
·
View notes
Text
i just got a brainwave. ZOSAN DANCER AU.
zoro mainly does hip hop, sanji mostly does ballet, they’re both attending this prestigious dance academy; zoro’s a scholarship student and he thinks sanji’s an absolute fucking snob. he can’t stand the prissy rich boy three studios down, golden with all the money from his royal background— he’s a vinsmoke. he’s a prince. it’s right there on the student name list, clear as day.
he’s only seen sanji from afar and yeah, sure, maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to judge but the blond infuriates him with his stupid hair flips and his heart eyes and his mirror-hogging and the way he kneels down to retie the girls’ pointe shoe ribbons for them so that they don’t have to. he’s tall and willowy and strong and fucking talented and every time zoro sees him he wants to kick a hole through the drywall.
now, zoro doesn’t really practice in school often. he enjoys lessons well enough, but he and his crew dance their best in the streets. so when he signs up for a practice slot the one time and gets there (already fifteen minutes late, mind you) just to realise there’s a very familiar annoyance in his studio? he’s pissed. he slams the door open right as sanji executes a spinny jump thing that reaches a frankly ridiculous height, sinking to one knee with his head thrown back, the air ringing after the music’s final crescendo.
zoro doesn’t give a shit. he’s tired and hungry and needs to get his fucking step sequence clean before next week’s dance battle, and thus opens his mouth and shatters right through the thick quiet as he barks, “vinsmoke!”
and he doesn’t know why, but sanji’s gaze flicks to him and he freezes in place. the blond’s expression, just moments ago composed and focused, is dripping with something that zoro can’t quite name, but he has to stop himself from gulping when sanji gets up and beelines straight for him, jabbing a manicured finger right into his sternum without reserve.
“don’t. fucking. call me that,” the blond grits, damn near seething, jaw so tense zoro’s honestly afraid he’ll crack a tooth and it’s almost funny, but he suspects that he really did cross some sort of line, and he might be rough around the edges but he isn’t an ass.
“okay, i’m sorry,” he offers, cautious, hands up in the air. the words taste weird in his mouth, but sanji looks slightly less livid so he counts it as a win. “what do i call you, then?”
the other man looks torn between kicking zoro soundly in the shin (which zoro can already tell would hurt like a bitch) and storming out of the studio, but he huffs loudly and turns away. “black. sanji black.”
zoro hums carefully and slowly inches his way to the corner of the room, setting his duffel down much gentler than he normally does. he should really leave this alone. he has a solo he needs to practice for and dinner to catch after. so what if sanji renounced his supposedly royal last name? it didn't make him any better than every other stuck-up dancer with a superiority complex.
(he decidedly doesn’t leave it alone, because this is the first time that he’s seen cracks in the blond’s porcelain-doll facade, and he can’t help but want to dig his fingertips in and pry. he’s never claimed to have a sense of self-preservation.)
“so…” he starts, facing the barre that he’ll never use and watching sanji through the mirror. “your parents—”
“not my parents, i’m estranged,” sanji cuts in, blunt and terse, emotionless to the point where zoro knows he cares much, much more like he wants to seem like he does.
he watches sanji sit in the middle of the wooden floor and fiddle with the elastics on his weird sock shoe hybrids, going into splits with no apparent effort and pressing his torso flat to the ground. a bright blue eye meets his and zoro looks away sharply, yanking on the zipper of his duffel and grabbing his snapback to pop the closures just to look busy.
…god, fuck, zoro wants to ask so bad. estranged. that word is rapidly reshuffling his worldview regarding the man currently yanking off his knitted leg warmers behind him and tossing them to the side. he wants to know how much of all of it is real; the money, the rumours, the gleaming reputation that surrounds sanji like a shield. he’s their academy’s golden boy and a shoo-in for the principal position at its sister ballet company, once he graduates. zoro had thought of him as an absolute primadonna— put bluntly, a pompous brat. a classic silver spoon child. but even just sitting here and stewing in his thoughts, the ability to cling onto the image he’d admittedly half made up in his head is rapidly slipping away from him.
it’s painfully obvious that sanji can talk the talk and walk the walk. jump the jump? “hey, what was that spinny jump thing you did just now?” jesus christ. zoro winces; his voice is so loud against the silence that he nearly puts his head in his hands.
“mm?” sanji’s voice isn’t even strained as he sits up from where he’d had his face pressed to his knees, forearms around his feet. how a person could even fold that far forward, zoro would never understand.
“the— the jump thing. when i came in.”
“oh, the double entrelacé?”
zoro squints. “the fuck kind of name is ontrolassay?”
“it means interlace in french, you—” the blond seems to struggle with choosing an insult before he finally lands on, “—goonhead. although i wouldn’t expect you to be able to appreciate it.”
the KT tape on zoro’s calf rolls back at the edge as he rubs over it absentmindedly, and he quickly stops. that shit isn’t cheap. but he’s more concerned about why he'd been doing it in the first place, because he only does that when he thinks, and zoro has enough self-awareness to know that when he thinks too hard it usually doesn’t end well. he’s all instinct— and something in the back of his mind is telling him that sanji is tired.
the blond isn’t just a pretty boy with no bite, that much is obvious. but now, with the sky dark outside the full-length windows and the air still and silent, it’s easier for him to see the weariness that sanji hides with all his fawning and flirting and smiles. he eyes the other man in his peripheral and clocks it settled bone-deep in the weight of sanji’s eyelids, the parting of his hair, the curve of his back.
he turns around properly to look at sanji over his shoulder and thinks, ah, fuck it. he’d been late to begin with and he’s spent so long here fiddling with his fucking hat under the guise of doing something important that half of his hour-long slot is gone, anyway. “the crew and i are going for pizza. come with.” a smirk pulls at his mouth as he cocks his head. “or are you gonna die if you eat something other than rabbit food?”
the blond looks up with an arched brow and a scowl. “you fucking wish,” sanji scoffs, but after a moment he gets up and starts tossing things into his bag. “it better be makino’s. arlong’s pizza dough tastes like sardines no matter what you get.”
zoro would have been impressed if sanji knew any neighbourhood pizza places to begin with, but this sounds like he has experience. “of course it’s makino’s, curly. we have standards.”
“i wouldn’t have known,” sanji sniffs delicately. “and curly?”
“yeah.” zoro shrugs, the strap of his bag digging in over his baggy tee as he stands. “your hair, your brows, your spinny jump thing—”
“double entrelacé.”
zoro makes a like i said gesture with his hands, grinning broadly. “spinny jump thing.”
sanji sighs as he tosses his hair out of his face. zoro gets a glimpse of two sapphire eyes, blue as the heart of a flame. “you’re a barbarian.” the blond shoulders him aside and snaps the lights off, pulling the door shut as he fishes out the keys. “and you’re buying.”
zoro hums non-committally and deliberately neglects to mention that makino’s fond of both luffy, his best friend, and luffy’s godfather shanks— which means that the whole crew basically eats free on late weekdays like these. on a side note, shanks has a thing with his own dad, mihawk, but they refuse to admit it. it’s infuriating. maybe he’ll rope sanji into helping to get them together before christmas because he has a bet running with nami and it is not looking good for him.
they walk out into the brisk night air as he flips his snapback onto his head, picking up the pace when he sees sanji shiver. “i drove, c’mon.”
“oh, you’ve been driving,” sanji says airily, raising his brows again as he digs around in his well-loved canvas bag for his cardigan. it’s pink and it’s cashmere, because of course it is. “driving me crazy.”
zoro doesn’t even realise he laughs until after it’s left his mouth and sanji is looking at him with wide eyes, blue, blue and more blue. he clears his throat. “let’s hope i don’t crash, then. did i mention i’m half blind on the left side?”
he cackles as sanji squawks at that, half-terrified and disbelieving, and on the way to makino’s he explains how he’d gotten into a scooter accident with luffy as a kid. (“of course you did,” sanji mutters, rolling his eyes. there’s no malice to it.) his crew’s already waiting for him when they arrive; to his dismay (or is it?), sanji hits it off with them marvellously.
zoro finds out that sanji’s biological family is royal, sure. royal assholes. sanji had run away one day and the bastards hadn’t done a damn thing to make sure he was alright, which, he supposes, made sense considering sanji had literally run away. (he isn't given a reason. he doesn't push.) and yet vinsmoke judge still refuses to let sanji change his name, which means that sanji’s father zeff had never been able to legally adopt him. he pays his own school fees working at zeff’s restaurant; not as a waiter but as a chef, and at this point zoro resigns himself to seeing this guy around a lot more because luffy’s already vibrating with excitement and in this friend group, luffy somehow always gets what he wants. sanji’s in it for the long haul now.
but it doesn’t seem like such a horrible thing anymore. zoro almost feels bad for thinking that sanji had been some kind of spoiled brat the whole time, and isn’t that something? the blond is quick to laugh and hardworking and snarky and proud, yes, but it’s deserved solely based on how much he’s trained to get to where he is— he’s damn good and he knows it, and zoro can appreciate that.
(he takes that last bit and shoves it into a box that he locks up tight and buries deep, deep down. he will Not be thinking about that tonight.)
he’s impressed all over again as he watches the sanji inhale an entire four cheese pizza and five garlic knots to boot, and he laughs when the blond gives him a petulant glare.
“fuck off, marimo, i’ve been training all day. m’fucking starving,” he groans through another mouthful of garlic and cheese, elegantly hiding his mouth behind his hand.
oh, hell no. “marimo?” zoro deadpans. “really?”
“not inaccurate,” nami hums from beside him, and he nearly smacks his forehead to the table. he cannot let these two get along. that would be the beginning of his own personal hell.
it’s too late. “small and green and fluffy,” sanji coos, faux-condescending as he reaches out to pet zoro on the head, and zoro snaps his teeth at slender fingers. he listens to sanji meld effortlessly into his friend group and wonders just what he's gotten himself into.
(there is warmth blooming between his ribs. he knows it will grow no matter what he does.)
they get closer as the weeks go by. zoro learns that sanji hates oregano with more vitriol than should be possible towards a herb. he learns the blond’s favourite brand of dance shoes (he knows that they’re suede slippers now, considering he got beaten over the head with them). he learns that sanji’s left arm never healed completely right from where his oldest brother snapped it when they were children, and he has to dig his nails into his palm so that he doesn’t punch something. sanji drags him into an empty studio one day and tells him to lift his leg as high as he can, which devolves into a stretching session that zoro is more inclined to call torture. sanji is adamant that having at least some degree of flexibility will help him dance more fluidly and loosen up his muscles. zoro tells him to eat shit.
(he goes home, and stretches, and he’s mad as hell because sanji’s right.)
the whole crew goes to the ballet course’s end-of-semester recital and nearly gets kicked out with how loudly they scream when sanji finishes his presentation. zoro throws a rose along with everyone else and pretends that he doesn’t.
(sanji pretends that he doesn’t find the exact one zoro tossed and press it to his nose as he sits in the dressing room backstage, his classmates bustling around him not enough to break his bubble of makeup mirror lighting and silky red petals and the memory of keen grey eyes, watching from the darkness of the audience seats.)
(zoro had been the first one to stand when he’d bowed. he’d cheered the loudest. sanji saw him. sanji heard him.)
zoro doesn't realise how much he talks about sanji until his sister threatens to peel the skin off his face if you don't ask him to come watch nationals, zoro, i swear to all that is unholy— and he shudders. perona is... terrifying. he also loves her terrifyingly much, but that won't stop her from peeling his face off, so he drops sanji a text with the details of the national finals of the dance battle that he was supposed to be training for that fateful day. he's too chickenshit to do anything else. too much of a coward to ask him face-to-face.
they win. their friends and family flood the stage. zoro looks for one face only. he feels a hand on his shoulder, whips around with his heart pounding and oh, he's here. radiant under the stadium lights, hair gleaming like brazened honey, eyes bluer than the sky and his smile even brighter. zoro opens his mouth to say something. anything.
sanji crashes into his arms and kisses him, and he feels like the fucking king of the world.
(the wolf-whistles only register when he realises sanji's legs are wrapped around his hips, his hands beneath strong thighs, but sanji is flushed so brilliantly pink and he looks so happy that zoro doesn't even care. luffy's elbow loops around his neck, nami crashing into his back, usopp coming in fast from the right, and sanji wiggles down to slide his arms around zoro's waist and tuck right up against his side. the trophy shines in his fist as he raises it high above the crowd and his nakama press in tight around him, and zoro screams and cheers with them until his throat goes hoarse.)
(mihawk and shanks get together three days later. sanji and zoro split the money nami begrudgingly forks over and then buy the whole crew pizza.)
#zosan#op zosan#zosan au#roronoa zoro#black leg sanji#one piece zosan#one piece zoro#one piece sanji#zoro x sanji#one piece#ino writes#GOD i love dancer aus#can yall tell i was obsessed with the step up franchise at one point
465 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Shoebox Under The Bed
Feb. Request-8
In which Spencer has a box of all of the things Y/N had ever given him and she finds it
Warnings: fluff, kissing, cursing, he gets a lil embarrassed
Spencer Reid x fem!reader
“Babe, do you know where my white heels are?” Y/N asked, walking through her and Spencer’s apartment wearing nothing but one of his shirts and a pair of socks.
It was Valentine’s Day and they had dinner plans. “Uh… check the bedroom closet?” He called from the kitchen.
Y/N hummed and she walked into the kitchen. “Are you excited?” She asked, standing on her tippy toes and kissing his neck innocently.
Spencer smiled and leaned down to kiss her. “So excited.” He nodded.
Y/N damn near squealed. “This is our first Valentine’s together since we moved in with each other!” She said, poking his chest.
“Baby, I love that you’re so excited but it’s 9 am. We don’t have dinner until 7 tonight.” He chuckled.
Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile. “I knoooooow….” She drew out. “I just wanna be ready. Last year I left my place super late and we almost lost our reservation.”
Spencer shook his head. “Okay, babe. Whatever makes you feel better.”
Y/N squeaked and tore away from him, going to look for her shoes.
In the room, she had searched high and low for those heels but hadn’t even found one.
She sighed and spun around, collapsing on the bed. She shut her eyes, groaning loudly.
After a moment, her left eye peeked open when she got an idea. She got off of the bed and got on her hands and knees next to it. She bit her lip and lifted her arm up to feel around for her phone on her bedside table.
She hummed in victory when she grabbed it and brought it down, turning the flash light feature on.
Underneath the bed lit up and she smiled. She moved clothes and blankets out of the way before her eyes lit up. The black shoebox sat there with a picture of the particular heel she was looking for.
She grabbed it and pulled it out from underneath the bed, opening the box quickly. She was expecting a shoe or two but instead she found a stack of Polaroids, letters, jewelry and a bunch of other tiny gadgets.
She bit her lip when she pulled one of the Polaroids out and studied it. She had been obsessed with taking pictures of things with her camera. In this one, Spencer was holding a lemon and wearing a big wicker sun hat. Why? She couldn’t remember but she smiled and laughed anyway. She remembered she gave it to him on the last day of 7th grade.
Spencer and Y/N grew up together. They realized that they were in love at a very young age.
She looked behind her to make sure that Spencer wasn’t watching from the kitchen and then pulled out one of the letters.
She smiled as she saw the little star she’d drawn by her name.
May 23
Dear Spence,
It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. I still have that sweater you leant me last winter. I wear it all the time. I wish the summer would be over so I can see you again. The last letter you sent me, you said you would come back soon but July 17th isn’t soon enough.
Anyway, how’s your Einstein summer camp going? I read that they teach you how to read minds there. Is it true? If so, can you tell me what I’m thinking about now?
I also got cast as Wendy in our schools summer theater program in Peter Pan. If you make it back home in time you might be able to catch closing night. I hope you can. I would love to look out when we’re doing our bows and see you there.
Anyway, I gotta go. We’re running lines.
See you at my show!
Love
From Y/N <3
She rolled her eyes, wondering why she’d scratched the end out even though Spencer could clearly read it. She tossed the letter aside and bit her lip, digging through the box some more.
Her eyes lit up when she picked up a stupid charm bracelet she’d made for him in fifth grade. It had a pair of glasses next to a star and a bead that had an ‘S’ in the middle.
Her tongue pressed into the inside of her bottom lip as she tied off the end of the elastic string. She glanced behind her seeing Spencer reading a book.
Her heart pounded as she turned and walked towards him. “Uhm… Spencer?” She cleared her throat. He looked up at her, pushing up his glasses.
“I-oh hi, Y/N!” He smiled setting his book down.
She held out the bracelet to him, closing her eyes. “I made this for you.” She spoke quickly.
He took it from her gently and her eyes opened. “Thanks! This is really nice.” He nodded at her.
Y/N smiled to herself, peeking behind her again just to make sure Spencer was still occupied in the kitchen.
The next thing she pulled out was a sock.
Yes, a sock.
Spencer in exchange for a book he was reading asked for something that Y/N held near and dear to her heart. She gave him a sock with Stitch from Lilo and Stitch. She almost cried giving it to him and he almost caved and let her keep it AND the book but she told him that it was fine.
She never gave the book back, he never returned her sock.
She put the sock back in the box and kept digging finding a really dried up daisy flower and a wrapper to a Crunch bar amongst many many other things. She paused when she felt something different.
It was a small velvet box. She pulled it out slowly, biting her lip. “What the fuck?” She whispered. She swallowed, opening the box and almost gasped.
A ring and a receipt sat inside that box. The ring was beautiful. It had a rose gold band with a rose colored diamond—a big ass diamond. She read the receipt, not paying attention to the price but the date.
He had bought that ring ten years before. They hadn’t even been dating then.
Her mouth was agape, she was so in shock that she didn’t even hear Spencer coming.
“Babe did you find your sh— oh my fucking shit.” He groaned. Y/N looked up at him slowly.
“Oh my God, Spencer, I’m so sorry!” She said, shutting the box quickly and shoving back underneath the piles of letters and other stuff. “I was just looking for my shoes, I swear!”
Spencer chuckled and sighed, walking over to sit on the bed in front of her. She bit her lip smiling at him, completely disregarding the ring. “You kept all the stuff I gave you.” She said quietly.
He reached down to cup her cheek. “Of course I did.”
She shut her eyes. “And you bought a ring.” She shook her head, her face heating up. “You bought a ring 10 years ago— we were 15 Spencer!” She smiled.
He blushed. “Well… I just— i knew that it was you, Y/N/N. Ever since you made me that charm bracelet in 5th grade.” He shrugged. “So, I saved up all my money from working at the ice cream shack that one summer and I went and bought it.”
Y/N stared into his eyes with a soft smile on her lips. “I love you.” She whispered.
Spencer smiled and leaned forward to kiss her deeply. “I love you.” He said in between kisses. “But you’re gonna have to wait for me to propose because that was the plan for tonight.” He chuckled.
Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “Fine.”
So at the end of the night, Spencer proposed to her in front of a bunch of people at the restaurant. She acted like she had no idea it was gonna happen so they’d get free cake.
#spencer reid#spencer fluff#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x original female character#criminal minds#spencer x oc#spencer x reader#crimimal minds#spencer x you
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Corazon x Afab!Reader: Lingerie
Warnings: afab reader, lingerie, face riding, oral (f receiving), nicknames (love, darling, baby), teasing, penetrative sex, creampie, a little surprise at the end eheheh
MINORS, DNI. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED.
Words: 2.0k
Corazon stood over you, the smoke from his cigarette making the room a bit hazy, just like your mind. The look he was giving you was lusty, and he blew some smoke from his lips cooly as he leaned down to the garters adorning your thighs. He plucked one with his finger, watching in awe as the slap of the elastic made you jump.
"For me, baby?" he asked gently, using that same finger from before to gently cradle your chin in his hand. You were sitting on the edge of your shared bed, a new set of heart-themed lingerie gracing your curves and dips. He admired the fabric with his hands, his gaze, and his length, as you could see from the imprint in his pants.
"Y-yes, I thought you'd like it because-" You were cut off by Cora's palm covering your lips, leaning up to your ear to whisper,
"I appreciate the sentiment, love, but these won't be on too much longer."
The tone of his voice made a shiver run down your spine; it was hoarse, unnerved as he took another drag from his cigarette. You pushed your thighs together to create some friction where it was most needed. He noticed this and dragged his fingers from your chin to your pebbled nipples, twinging them between his slender digits and sighing.
"Your already so ready for me, hm?" He pushed you gently back onto the bed, cigarette held firmly between his pointer and middle finger as his gaze tore through you, his mind muddled with all the things he wanted to do to you with that sinful body of yours. "Wonder how ready you are for me down here..."
His fingers had strayed from your breasts, tracing a squiggly line from there to your belly button, to the waistband of the lace covering your intimate parts- a moan escaped your throat, making Corazon gaze up at you. His head was now between your thighs, his fingers pressed deliciously into the luscious skin there. He was staring at you with those half-lidded eyes that told you he only wanted one thing.
Your thighs unconsciously parted for him to rest his head there, his amused expression unmistakeable as he examined the wet spot staining your pretty undies.
"You know..." Corazon started, your gaze darting down to meet his mocha-colored eyes, "You look so... magnificent like this, but I'd much rather see you without them. Nothing will ever match that level of beauty."
You cheeks and ears tinged pink at the compliment, your hand covering your face bashfully. "R-Rosi, you're so sw-ah!"
His fingers had pulled the fabric to the side, not even bothering to set his cigarette on the bedside table before he began to feast on your already-dripping cunt. His tongue started at the top of your clit, tracing down your labia and rounding back upwards. As his tongue swirled in all his favorite places, the smoke from his forgotten cigarette wafted into the air. It made your nose twitch as repeated mewls of his name left your lips.
"Taste, mm- taste so good, baby," he muttered, his voice muffled by your pussy. Your glazed eyes stared down at him, at the way his head bobbed and shook as he devoured you. No one had ever treated you the way he did, and the way he always ate you like you were his last meal made you feel special, which was exactly how he wanted you to feel.
His velvet muscle explored the parts of your entrance that he could reach, your wet covering the outside of his mouth. His nose was bumping and sliding against your clit, stimulating you in all the best ways. You were cursing and yelping desperately, tugging at his blonde locks harshly to pull him closer to your cunt. You were basically riding his face sideways, using his mouth for your own pleasure.
He was praising you all the way through, his voice muffled by your wet mound covering his face. He had always enjoyed eating your pussy, the sweet taste of your cum burned into his tongue's taste buds. He had eventually changed your position to sit on top of his face, your underwear forgotten at the end of the bed. Corazon relished the way the garters held your thighs and legs, the pudge being pinched at the cuff, your skin spilling out from the top just perfectly. Your curves were accented by the top, which covered both of your nipples with a red heart.
"You got all dressed up for me baby... you always look so sexy..." his gruff voice was hard to hear from between your legs, and you held onto the bed frame to steady yourself as you ground down onto his tongue.
"R-rosi! F-fuck, 'm gonna-" you were panting, your eyebrows furrowed in a pleasured arch that matched the sinful bow of your back, "so good," you moaned loudly, your head tipping back to look up at the ceiling. His tongue explored your wet folds, swirling around your puffy and throbbing clit.
"Go ahead, baby, cum on my face," there was a smile on the man's face as he bumped his nose up into your slit, his tongue moving lower to your hole and claiming it with the tip of the wet muscle. "Want you to cum, please-"
His desperation to make you cum made the coil in your stomach break, the heat spreading from your core throughout your whole body as you shuddered and called the blonde's name over and over like a prayer. He always made you attain the heavenly feeling, as if he were your own god to pray to. He definitely looked the part.
After coming down from the high, your head angled down to look into his deep chestnut eyes. The were clouded with lust and adoration, a look you were all too familiar with. You pulled him up and over you, his torso resting in the cradle of your bare legs. He had shed his shirt and jeans, leaving the thin cloth of his boxers in the way of what you really wanted.
Licking your lips noticing the hardness imprinted in his underwear, your eyes flitted back to his. "I need you, Rosi, wanna take care of you," your hands were already traveling from his cheeks to his chest, down through the ripples and dips of his abs, to the waistband his boxers.
"You can have whatever you want baby," he started, licking his bottom lip and reaching towards his underwear. Your lips turned up into a smile before slowly falling back down as his hands did the same. "But... you gotta ask nicely. Haven't I told you this before?" He tutted, leaning back and sitting on his heels.
"Pl-please!" you begged wantonly, reaching up to his underwear but not before he could scoot back some more. "Please, Rosi, wanna touch you."
He chuckled gently, reaching over to hold your face gently. "That's my good little darling. Look and sound so beautiful for me... doing all this-" he motioned to the lace adorning your curves, "-just for me. What did I do to deserve this?"
As he inched closer and closer to you, his boxers were pulled down his legs just as slowly. When he finally made it to your lips, you had pushed his hands down with your own, making him laugh. "So eager for my cock, huh?"
"Yes," you breathed heavily, your eyes lighting up at the sight of his strained cock bobbing from his waistband and resting against his torso. "Need it, please-"
"C'mere," he grunted, pulling you from under your thighs closer to him, your clit pressed against his abdomen, "Gonna give you what you want."
You nodded eagerly, watching as he gripped his hardened and veiny cock, utterly impressed by the size and curvature. It was angry, leaking, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him shove it into your tight cunt. He teased your slit, plopping his shaft on top of it and beginning to use the mix of your arousal and your release to slip his dick across your pussy.
He gently began to thrust his throbbing member across your folds, slick coating it in a shiny gloss. "Yeah... you feel how wet you are for me? My dick's sliding so easily through your pussy... So pretty for me..."
Your cheeks reddened, feeling as warm as the rest of your body did as he spoke so filthy of you. The squelching noises coming from between your legs was no help in this situation, making you feel bashful at the sinful noises. "J-just for you-! Please stop teasing me, Rosi... Need you."
The desperation gracing your tone made his cock throb, giving him no choice but to stretch your pussy with it, slowly pushing in and relishing in the feeling of your tight walls engulfing his weeping member. He let out a grunt as his hips kissed yours, sweat mixing as he gave himself a moment to bottom out in your wet heat.
"You feel so good, baby,-" he cut himself off with a moan in time with his hips pulling out to the tip, pushing himself back in with a symphony of moans from your throat. "Always so perfect for me, love."
As he began to set a rhythmic pace, his face becoming sweaty, lipstick smeared across your breasts, mingling with the dark marks he was sucking into your skin. Tangled in the sheets, his legs intertwined with your trembling ones, Rosinante used the leverage from his lankiness to pound into you, his eye makeup running down his face. It matched the mascara running down your own flushed cheeks, relieved tears gracing your eyes at finally being filled by his perfect cock.
You felt fingers wipe tentatively under your water lines, the tears being erased by the man's fingers before he started kissing them away, smearing more of that damned lipstick on your face. "Don't cry, my darling.. you look lovely like this."
The feeling of your inner walls choking his dick while his lips danced across your sweaty skin was enough to make him cum in seconds, but he held back the tightening feeling in his balls momentarily to watch your climax rip through you.
Your mewls and groans were stifled by the feeling of your knees pressing against your chest, Rosinante's lanky form above you engulfing you in mind, body, and soul as you felt your orgasm wash over you, legs shaking in his grip. You felt his fingers squeezing your ankles, enough to leave pretty bruises, and you knew he was nearing his end as well.
Every nerve in your body was on fire, vision hazy, but you knew Rosi was painting you with his warm spend when that certain- quite needy- moan tumbled over his lips. His body shuddered above you, fingertips leaving crescent moons in your ankles to match the bruises there.
Basking in the soft glow from the pale moonlight, Rosi kept himself buried deep in you, the connection of both your bodies and souls making his heart swell with adoration.
Holding you in his arms, your eyelids drooping slowly even though you were still clad in the top half of your now ruined lingerie, it was all worth it for Rosi. He loved you, adored you and he'd keep you safe at any cost. Hearing you drift off slowly to sleep, muttering a sleepy but tentative, "I love you,"... it was his reward. The best part of making love to you when he was able.
He wouldn't change anything about you, so he figured in the morning he'd tell you not to waste money on lingerie; that he preferred you with no clothing anyway.
As he began to drift off to sleep, your relaxed form held tightly to his chest, he felt something at his feet begin to move, and winced as a sharp sting tore through his ankle.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, beginning to pat out the fire with his bare hands, your own face alight with surprise as you turned to the clumsy man.
"That's it, Donquioxte Rosinante! No more cigarettes in bed!"
#corazon x reader#rosinante x reader#donquixote rosinante x reader#donquixote rosinante#one piece#op#mi corazon#corazon smut#liv writes
573 notes
·
View notes
Text
thirty-nine
about: never one for birthdays, Bradley is quite content on a quiet night in for his birthday. the only gift he really wants is you but gets a little more than expected. tbe universe.
word count: ficlet-town (for me). 2.5k.
part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe
warnings: fluff. a bit o’ smut but mostly fluffy fluff. mindless fluff. and yeah. adult themes. but this blog is 18+, so this shouldn’t be a surprise.
it’s midnight here in the land of Oz and brb thots will be running rampant multiple timezones today, celebrate with your creators and fandom. send reblogs and comments x
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you... Happy birthday, sweet Bradley,” you sang quietly, approaching him with a single-lit candle chocolate cupcake as he relaxed on the couch after a delicious homemade dinner and the whiskey doing down a fucking treat. With the lights low, romance was gently hanging in the air. “Happy birthday to you,” you finished simply as he couldn’t resist his grin and pink flushed the apples of his cheeks.
“Love...” he grumbled, embarrassed. “You didn’t have to - ”
“But I did,” you cut him off gently. “Make a wish, handsome,” you tenderly kissed the frown line between his raised dark brows.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” he accepted the cupcake and stared deeply into your eyes before letting his lids drift closed. He carefully blew out the candle.
"Whatcha wish for?” you asked sweetly.
“Don’t need a wish, already got everything I need,” he said simply as he patted his thighs and opened his arms to you. “Come ‘ere, you.”
Eagerly, you climbed aboard your favourite seat and made yourself comfortable on his lap, taking the candle and tossing it on the coffee table. “You’re such a fuckin’ softy,” you accused teasingly as he chuckled, shyly. “I know you didn’t want to celebrate, and that’s fine. But you weren’t getting away without a sweet surprise,” you admitted as he offered you the first nibble. “No, sweetheart. You’re the birthday boy. Birthday boy comes first today.”
“Comes first, huh? Sweet girl, I will always get you there,” he breathed deeply, taking an indulging bite. He hummed happily, crumbs flailing between you. “Sorry,” he admitted. “It’s real good,” he chuckled messily, trying to catch crumbs with his tongue. You adjusted your posture, a gentle grind catching his attention quick. He licked his lip, unknowingly missing some frosting that you generously tidied for him with a sweet kiss.
“Does taste good,” you agreed. “All for you, Lieutenant Commander,” you reminded him. He knew that tone. He knew it meant good things were coming. Hopefully both of you.
He hummed, a low grumble of laughter teasing in his throat. He dragged his long index and middle fingers through the frosting and swiped against your lower lip. “Open, love,” he said, but it wasn’t a question. Your tongue delicately darted out as you kept his gaze. He appreciatively watched as tongue first, you delicately swirled around his fingers and enclosed them, taking it deep in the back of your mouth, eyes big as he breathed a raspy, ‘hmm, yes, baby. You know just how I like it...’
His other palm wrapped around you, a warm hand snuck into the elastic of your sweats and he could feel the lace under the pads of his fingers. He pouted, curiosity getting the best of him. Good things came with lace. “Come here,” he said as you let his fingers go with a pop and crawled a little further, skilfully grinding down on him. He groaned low as your sweet lips brushed wet kisses against his pulse. He was putty when you kissed him there and he willingly snapped back, eyes black with desire as he helped you raise your hoodie and discard it, a new navy blue bodysuit leaving very, very little to the imagination now revealed.
“Fuck, this is nice,” he didn’t apologise for how he groped your breast, his thumb rubbing slow circles around your nipple and he lowered his face to bite through the material, the sight too good to ignore as you sighed, you were in heaven. Dragging your fingers into his neat curls, it was hard not to fall into him. He gazed up at you with those eyes that told you how much he wanted to devour you and raised his lips to you, his big hands pulling you closer to him as your lips met, wild kisses ensued as your bodies pressed against each other eagerly awaiting what was to come next.
He eased back on the couch as you pulled back to make light work of the belt and zip on his jeans. He whipped off his tee and quickly dragged down his jeans with his boxer briefs, long, thick and weeping with excitement for you. “Lose the sweats, love,” he ordered, his tone dark and certain as you stepped away, turned away and pushed the fleece away. He sighed wistfully. He was an ass man at heart, and your ass was pure perfection that he wanted to sink his gleaming teeth into.
Chuckling deep, he encouraged you. “Yes, love. Show me how that thing comes off, huh?”
Looking back, you stepped back between his wide thighs and took his hand, guiding it between your legs to where the clasps strained to be released. He nodded, but instead swiped the flimsy material to the side, his index finger pressing into the slick that always seemed to be waiting for him.
“Look at you, dripping and I have barely even touched you,” he chewed his lip as he watched your face contort, bashful to blissed as his index finger sunk into you, then his middle finger, knees almost immediately weak. “Love, you need to be fucked, huh?” he dragged you flush against him and placed you back on his lap.
“It’s your birthday. I just want to please you - ” you tried. Really. All you wanted to do was please him. See his face as he came. That was pure ecstasy in itself.
“This is all I want,” he told you simply. “Let me bury myself in you, huh? You coming all over my cock is my gift.”
“I was supposed to be the gift to you - ” you moaned as he dragged you upon him, slipping his cock in deeply, perfect for you. “God,” you muttered, resting your forehead on his strong shoulder, taking in his cologne. He always smelled so damn good.
“I said no presents,” he growled, teasingly. “Well, okay. Except maybe for this flimsy, little... thing,” he breathed deep, pulling down the cup and letting his tongue swirl around the puckered skin. His cock was so sensitive to your sweet, warm wetness. He wanted slow and slippery, but he wasn’t going to last if this was how delirious you made him feel.
It was slow, sweet. Connecting, kissing, he held you so tight as you melded together. Perfect in its simplicity. But unlike your birthday wish for him, you came before him, quaking and milking him, dragging his orgasm out.
It wasn’t always about the birthday boy.
Slumped against Bradley, his tongue lapped up the few beads of sweat on your shoulder and murmured how good his sweet girl was to him. “You want more, big boy?” you asked into his skin. “Ready to unwrap me?”
He breathed deeply, trying to control his breathing. “Fuckin’ yes.”
“Then come along. It would be rude if I unwrapped your gift myself.”
Praying to whatever deity brought you to him, his grin ripped wide as you murmured about the mess between you both that threatened to spill. He reached for his discarded tee and skillfully tidied you up. After another kiss, he took your hand, thanking the gods for creating you for him. “Okay. Maybe one more gift...” he slipped his boxer briefs back on and allowed himself to be led to the bedroom, his big hand in both of your smaller ones and you stopped at the door.
“Come on,” you said as he wandered in. “Get comfy, let me just freshen up...” You kissed him then headed for the bathroom as he dove on the bed, the duvet exploding around him in his excitement and an arrogant smile on his face as he placed his hands behind his head, body primed for whatever you were about to blow his mind with.
He cast his gaze to the bathroom door you’d just disappeared through, his bedside lamp on. Meticulous in his need for organisation and neatness, he noted an envelope on the bedside table and reached for it, his name on the front -
And maybe breathing stopped when he pulled out the contents.
And maybe his heart lurched as he realised the handwriting he hadn’t seen in years, the letter addressed to Bradley Darling x
And maybe -
“Ahh, you saw it,” you said, reappearing and relaxed against the doorway, a small grin on your face, perfect with your messy hair and put back together in your bodysuit. Bradley gave you a confused smile.
“Love,” he sat up, and asked, “What is this?”
"Wasn’t addressed to me, Bradley Darling,” you told him, the affection you had for the name superseding any nickname you’d ever given him. “I found it in one of the boxes in the attic. Had Mav’s name on it and a cross scribbled through it violently,” you gave him a look that told him how ridiculous it sounded.
Bradley signed, rubbing his eyes bashfully. “I got a bunch of stuff from Mav after Mom died... and then the whole papers thing happened so I took out my anger on an archive box... among other things.”
“Mature.”
“Yeah,” he agreed embarrassed.
“Want me to leave you for a few minutes?” you nudged your head towards the living room in case he wanted to read alone.
“No, stay,” he said, reaching his hand for you and you came to sit on the edge of the bed as he sat up. “Wanna read it with me?”
“It looks like it’s just for you...” you told him warily, not wanting to interrupt a private moment but you would be lying if you didn’t want to know the contents of the letter.
“Yeah, but there’s nothing in there I’d ever hide from you. Get over here,” he admitted as you came to scamper over his body and lay back together against his pillow as he opened the letter. “Been a long time since I’ve seen her handwriting, it’s weird.”
“It’s such a beautiful script,” you admitted, never a fan of your own writing. A messy chicken scrawl at the best of times. You wrapped a thigh over his, snuggling against his side. “Smells like old perfume.”
“She always sprayed her favourite Chanel perfume on any letters she sent,” he chuckled quietly.
“No. 5?” you reckoned.
“Actually, yeah. That sounds really familiar. She said it was really expensive,” he chuckled quietly. His eyes went to her handwriting and started to read aloud:
My Bradley Darling on his 21st birthday.
There are a few of these we haven’t celebrated together now. It breaks my heart to know that you are alone but I know Mav is taking care of you as best as he can -
Bradley sighed. “Guess she couldn’t predict it.”
“No, I suppose not,” you agreed, kissing his ribs but not wanting to distract him, your fingers tracing the ridges and peaks of his abs, his muscles firing, always ticklish. “Worked out in the end.”
He hummed in response and kept reading:
But I know he is doing all he can in his way to make sure you’re safe, happy and taken care of. I hope you’ve remembered your patience and consideration of all he has done for you and will continue to do, even if you don’t agree with his decisions. All Mav has ever wanted was the best for you, just like Daddy and me.
I’m writing you this while you sleep in the hospital chair across from me. My young man, so handsome and bright with the world at his feet. I hope you have gone for everything you’ve ever dreamed of. I hope you meet someone wonderful, someone who you will love like I love your Daddy. I’m so scared to leave you, but I want you to know while you have Mav here, Daddy and I are going to be watching everything you do from where we are together, devastated we’re not with you, but so damn proud of the man you will grow to be, watching from the front row.
Bradley stopped to sniff. He wasn’t crying but would be lying to say he might’ve if you didn’t distract him with the tear stains now on his chest. “Oh, love,” he said with a gentle sigh.
“This is the sweetest thing. She is very eloquent.”
“Towards the end, she was pretty out of it. I don’t know when she wrote this,” he admitted. You nodded, hoping he’d continue. There didn’t appear much more left as your eyes followed his words.
Bradley Darling, you are the love of my life. And I’m so sorry I couldn’t beat this for us. But I’ll always take care of you. I’ll be your angel watching over you, just like Daddy is for you and me now. He’s calling for me, I can hear him clear as day and I can’t wait to see him.
I love you, my brave son. Your Momma x
“Oh, my God,” you were almost sobbing in the end as Bradley folded the paper up, placed it back on the bedside table and wrapped you into his arms.
“There, there,” he teased, kissing your forehead.
“That is so special, Bradley.”
He nodded but didn’t reply. He knew the weight it held and wondered if Carole really was watching, seeing how happy he was, seeing what he made of his life. A decorated naval aviator, a partner and a man with a future. A man who didn’t think he’d have a future before you came along. But he knew.
He didn’t believe in soulmates before he’d met you, but he knew his mother had sent you to him. When you were both at the right times in your life - when you needed him and when he needed you more than he’d ever know he could need anyone.
He giggled as he kissed you, tasting salty tears. “Why are you so emotional about this?”
“I don’t know,” you protested, a bubbly laugh slipping. “Do you think she is happy at how your life turned out?”
“Yeah, I hope so. She’d probably be pushing a baby agenda,” he nudged you, teasingly as you rolled your eyes. You’d only recently just gone off the pill, rolling the dice to see if Baby Bradshaw was in your futures and Bradley would be lying to say... he was trying to bury himself in you any fucking chance he got, but don’t get him wrong, he didn’t have a breeding kink. Nooo... not at all.
“One step at a time, huh?” he held your left palm in his and pressed a series of sweet kisses into your engagement ring, your wedding in a few short weeks with that special handful of people. Small and intimate for two fools who never saw themselves ever getting married and finding their happily ever afters together.
“One step at a time,” you repeated, moving to his waist as he licked his lips, an entertained grin spreading across his handsome features. “Think I could tempt you for the rest of your present now, Bradshaw?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
masterlist.
A/N: happy birthday, Rooster Bradshaw. It’s been so much fun bringing you to life exactly how I see you (whether people agree or not) x
the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x
#notroosterbradshaw#happy birthday big boy#rooster#rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster fluff#bradley bradshaw fluff#rooster drabble#bradley bradshaw drabble#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fic#rooster smut#Bradley bradshaw smut
700 notes
·
View notes
Text
no matter what you say or what you do
the sweet normalcy right after a routine encounter. an implicit confession the two of you may not be ready to address.
tags&warnings. MDNI, drabble, implied fwb, suggestive, hints of sub!satoru bc it's what he deserves.
psa. i was so tempted to make this a pinning long shot, yall let me know what u think! mdni banner by @/cafekitsune
“when i’m alone i’d rather be with you.”
You washed your hands while he rambled on and on as his heartbeat settled down back to its normal rhythm. He had cemented himself in the middle of the bed, staying put right where you had rolled off him as he caught his breath. The puffs leaving his lips were a reminder of the breathy whimpers he let out when he was close.
The thought made you shudder, a small smirk on your face as you recalled your previous endeavours. His voice saturated with cheeriness was so unlike his desperate pleas — please, I need to be inside you, please — and needy moans. Not that you were complaining. You loved listening to him talk. The juxtaposition was funny though. The duality of this man only made him more lovable.
He was still talking even when you came back, rambling about his adventures with Shoko and Suguru while you were locked in the library finishing a paper. The rising and falling of his chest now even, it was a no-brainer for you to lay your head right on top of him, letting his arm wrap itself around your shoulders and pull you closer.
His skin was warm against your cheek, and though you preferred to be the one embracing him, being able to be up close enough to hear the thumping of his heart going up in speed was always worth it.
“And then Suguru had to buy me a coffee because he lost the bet!” He all but giggled, either happy at his friend’s misery or happy to have gotten a triple caramel frappe with extra whipped cream and sprinkles. You could never know.
“It was about time you won one of those.” You teased, chuckling as he made a sound of complaint followed by a lazy yawn. He pulled you closer and naturally, you let your leg rest over his abdomen.
He had changed into the pair of briefs you had tossed at him after cleaning him up, kissing his nose before heading to the bathroom to fix yourself up.
It had become a bit of a routine by now. After a stressful day, night or whichever excuse any of you could find, the two of you would get together to participate in what you branded as a ‘healthy coping mechanism’. One that 9 out of 10 orthodontists would recommend, but would be discredited by any decent therapist that gathered how the lines between platonic and the antonym of platonic were starting to blur.
“You’re always so mean to me.” He whined, nuzzling his cheek on top of your head as you chuckled, fingers tracing indistinguishable patterns on the planes of your shoulder blades. He sucked in a breath before mumbling an argument in his favour, seeing as you had found his statement anything but serious. “Like, you edged me eight times tonight.”
“Because you like it!”
“It’s still mean!”
Touche. It wasn’t the best defence he could’ve come up with but your laugh was contagious. It made him forget about his cheeks, now redder than ever, and indulge in your warmth against him.
If it was up to him, he would stay like this all day.
“You're a bad stress reliever.”
Letting his hand roam down your spine as his words kissed your ears, he hooked his pointer finger around the band of your underwear, pulling on the elastic and letting go, making you yelp in surprise.
He giggled at your reaction. Also at his own antics. No matter how many times he did it, you were always caught by surprise. He was sneaky at all times. When you weren’t expecting it, the prickling of the cloth against your skin, but also when you were expecting him to do something.
Still, though you shivered in response, a poorly hidden mischievous grin always grazed your lips in return
“You wouldn’t survive a day without me.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed in utter bliss. With you next to him, your skin on his skin. He liked to think that if it were up to you, you’d choose to stay like this too. “I wouldn’t.”
© all works belong to satoruly
#🍒 — from the vault#🍒 — jjk's version#gojo x reader#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jujuts kaisen x reader
177 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄
dom!danny johnson x sub!fem!reader | mini fic | nav | phone sex, masturbation/guided masturbation, voyeurism, stalking, mention of taking pics of you, mention of making porn, praise, degradation, panty stealing and sniffing, squirting, sir kink
part two
“you can see me?” you asked, looking around your house, pressing your house phone closer to your ear. your bottom lip tucked between your teeth to keep you from smirking. whipping your head around to peek out the sliding doors you had then to the windows in your kitchen.
“course i can, doll, purple really does wonders on you”
his cocky tone made you scoff. furrowing your brows as you looked down at your black shirt, getting ready to say something sassy back but once you put your hand on your hip and sighed you realized he wasn’t walking about your shirt, he was talking about your light purple panties.
rubbing your legs together as you looked around again. you went to speak and he interrupted you.
“though, the white with red dots are a personal favorite but i dont know if you’ll get them back.” the line went silent for a moment, then a deep inhale was faintly heard. “you smell so good bunny”
you laughed, “perv” you muttered and started walking to your couch and plopping down onto it.
moving your feet to the coffee table, planting them comfortably and leaning back and parting your legs slightly. your hand coming to play with the elastic of your panties.
“you gonna put on a show for me, bunny?” he asked.
“will i get my underwear back?” you asked, raising a brow as your fingers started to slip into your panties, teasing him and them back out and then playing with the little bow that was made out of a silky material.
“maybe” ghostface said, dragging it out playfully.
“lets make a deal then? i will let you watch me, only, if you give them back.” you hummed, tilting your head as you waited for his answer. hearing him hum as if he was thinking it through.
“i think you’ve got yourself a deal bunny” he said, you just knew he had a smirk on his face and probably his hand in his pants.
you let a small giggle leave your lips before sitting the phone down on the cushion next to you before slowly pulling up your shirt—the purple set now on display for him. throwing it to floor before bringing the phone back to your ear and leaning back.
your hands moving into your panties, lightly grazing along your folds before pulling your hand out and grazing yourself over your underwear.
teasing yourself, getting yourself worked up enough that a little wet spot of your arousal was forming—darkening the fabric and you hoped he was able to see it as you heard some ragged breaths through the phone then some ruffling and then soft grunts and more hard breathing.
dipping back into your panties and gathering your wetness on your middle and ring finger and spread it from your entrance to your clit then started slow circles on the bud. your breath was picking up and you wanted to wiggle around but stayed still for your audience.
“cmon bunny don’t be a tease, be a good girl n’take the panties off for me” he groaned, voice low and more clear. did he have the voice modulator off?
you hummed in agreement and sat the phone back down, fingers hooking around the fabric and your lifted up and pulled off, taking them off your ankles and dropping the purple garment onto the ground.
finding your previous position quickly, fingers back to your clit and slowly reopening your legs and hearing him curse under his breath made you giggle.
“there we go. god, look at you, fucking dripping.” ghostface moaned, hearing a click through the phone but you didn’t question it.
your back arching a bit as you did faster circles on your clit, letting your mouth open and eyes close, moaning out and feeling your thigh twitch as a pleasurable shock ran through your body when your finger tips ran over the bud.
“spread your pretty fucking cunt open for me” he instructed, more clicks were heard as you mumbled a quick ‘yes sir’
taking your attention off your clit and moving your folds apart, your middle finger did up strokes on clit as you heard more clicks over the phone.
“since you’re being so good i might let you see the pictures, you’re very photogenic by the way.” he teased, so that was the clicking noise.
“maybe next time since you’re so shy right now, we could make a movie” you teased back, looking around to every dark corner you could see. he chuckled through the phone.
you moved your fingers to your hole, middle finger teasing yourself by shallowly dipping your finger in then circling around it.
moaning loudly as you pushed your middle finger into your cunt, your head going back and digging into the cushion. hearing a little mumble of “oh fuck” before you started moving your finger in and out.
you moaned again once you started picking up speed, your palm grinding against your clit making it even better though you wished it was his fingers, his tongue, his cock, whatever he wanted to give you.
“feels good dont it doll?” ghostface asked, a moan slipping from him at the end. you nodded and hummed an ‘mhm’.
“add another finger, i know you can” he ordered, biting your lip as you slowed and added your ring finger. picking your pace up again, spreading your legs wider, muscles burning at the strain.
swears and moans and gasps left your mouth as you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers, hips starting to roll into the thrusts and your palm dragged against your clit each time you moved your fingers in.
you started to feel the knot tightening in your lower abdomen, knowing you were getting closer and closer to your release. whining into the phone as you heard him saying how cute you looked.
“cmon bunny, i can tell youre close, let go” he huffed. your fingers going faster and harder.
“fuck m’gonna cum” you cried, moaning and face scrunching up in pleasure as he was telling to ‘be a good girl and cum’ but you could barely comprehend what he was saying to you as you felt the coil snap, your body hot and starting to get a thin sheen of sweat.
feeling the gush start from between your thighs, quickly moving your fingers to rub your clit. basically screaming in pleasure as you squirted.
“holy shit bunny, good girl-good fucking girl.” you heard him moan as he found his own release.
rubbing your clit as you were now coming down from your high, only stopping when it started to get overstimulating and a bit uncomfortable. letting your hand rest on your stomach as you listened to him breathe over the phone while you caught your breath.
closing your legs and eyes as you gathered yourself.
“didnt know you were a squirter bunny.” ghostface breathed out, the voice modulator was back on and it made you jump then relax. you laughed and heard rustling through the phone before the line went dead.
letting the phone rest on your chest and you groaned as you realized you were need to reshower and clean up your mess.
sitting up and grabbing your shirt and panties from the ground. getting up and sitting the phone on the charging dock in the kitchen before walking to your small laundry room.
sighing as your tried to the light switch, finally switching it on.
you smiled as you were met with a damp towel and a dry one folded neatly on your dryer and your white with red dots panties were on the floor. tilting your head and lifting a brow as you bent to pick them up and a polaroid was under them.
feeling your underwear and feeling something sticky, you gasped as you realized it was covered in his cum. you couldnt help but laugh a bit as you picked up the picture.
it was of him using your panties to jerk off with, taking in the image. cock out, panties around his length and a gloved hand mid stroke.
flipping it over and seeing he had written something on the back.
“see you soon ;0”
#danny johnson x reader smut#danny johnson smut#morwaps.dark#danny johnson x you#dbd danny johnson#dead by daylight#dead by daylight ghostface#jed olsen ghostface#danny johnson ghostface#ghostface smut#ghostface x reader#jed olsen x reader#dbd jed olsen#morwaps.nsfw.#jed olsen#danny johnson#jed olsen smut
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Kitchen Quickies (3 of 4)
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader
Content & Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), established relationship, praise, cum swallowing
Word Count: 957
A/N: part of the Imagines & What If series
Kyle tries to keep his cool as you get on your knees.
ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // kitchen quickies masterlist
“Yeah. I can hear you.” Kyle glances up when you walk into the kitchen.
He’s sitting at the small breakfast table in nothing but gray sweatpants. They hang low on his hips, the elastic band resting right across the deep V-shape of his pelvis. You clearly see the soft line of hair that runs up from below the band to circle his belly button.
Kyle leans back in the chair, legs spread out before him, and one elbow on the table. He holds his phone up to his ear, and his bare chest is still a little damp from the shower. There is a deep, primal urge within you to put your tongue to the droplets of water.
“Who is it?” you mouth silently, resisting the urge to put your lips to flesh.
“Price,” he mouths back. Price must say something on the other end because Kyle responds out loud this time. “Yes, Captain. I heard you.”
He gives you a lopsided smile and rubs at his chest absently, glancing away again as he focuses on the conversation. You watch him for a moment as you lean against the countertop. You’re in a bit of a mood to cause trouble, and Kyle looks so relaxed and peaceful that teasing him sounds like fun.
Moving slowly, you saunter up to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Kyle doesn’t glance up at you but he does use his free hand to reach up and cover your hand with his. His fingers twine with yours, and it’s such a soft thing that you don’t want to break it.
But you do.
Breaking away from him, you step between his spread legs, and slowly sink to your knees. At first, Kyle is confused, the middle of his brow furrowing as you begin your descent. But when your hands fall onto his thighs and slide upward, that confusion changes into a knowing smirk. He finds this amusing, maybe even playful, but you want him to shiver under your touch, to have to focus all his control on not falling apart while on the phone with Price.
Kyle reaches out to stroke his thumb over your cheek. “Not now,” he mouths, shaking his head.
You don’t care. You’re going to enjoy this. And afterward, he’ll probably deal out a little punishment.
Your fingers crawl up his thighs and curve around the band, pulling back. Kyle is only half paying attention. Price is likely telling him something important, but there isn’t any stopping you. By the time you reveal his cock, and Kyle’s attention is focusing in, you’re already putting your mouth around the head.
With one hand, your grasp the base, and Kyle hisses, his head falling back slightly as you palm him and your lips lightly suck on the head. You pump him a few times, then release the head to place a soft kiss on the tip. A pearly bead of precum blooms in the slit, and you eagerly lick it up with the tip of your tongue. Another one blooms there, taking its place, and you swirl your tongue around the flared head before licking the entire length from base to tip.
Kyle begins to moan, but quickly catches himself, covering it up with a cough.
“Sorry, Captain. I’m good. Just something…stuck in the throat is all.”
Your grin up at him and Kyle shakes his head in amusement.
Teasingly, you circle the head of his cock with the tip of your tongue. Kyle shifts in the chair. He can’t sit still, and even though the phone is pressed to his ear, you can tell he’s completely unfocused on what Price is saying.
Victory.
Kyle grabs the back of your neck, but he does not pull you away from him. It’s a silent acknowledgment and you claim the opening. You take the head of him into your mouth. Holding there, you wait for your salvia to collect. Then you swallow him down, your lips touching your hand.
Kyle’s eyelids flutter, all of his control slipping away from him like raging water. He’s nodding but you’re not sure if he’s agreeing with something Price is saying or he’s reveling in the feel of your mouth around him. Hollowing your cheeks, you slide back up, and then repeat the process, bringing in your hand to pump him in time with your upward passes.
Getting on your knees for Kyle makes you happy and eager. Watching him lose all control stirs your own need. His hand slides away from your neck to go to the top of your head. Kyle licks his lips and his mood changes.
Those eyes of his grow darker, and you suddenly stop moving, gaze locked with his.
“Captain. I need to call you back.” Kyle pulls the phone away from his face and ends the call.
He smirks, and you know you’ve lost. “Bad girl,” he croons, his fingers tightening your hair. “Hold onto my thighs.”
You immediately comply, your fingers digging into the fabric of his sweatpants. Kyle takes control, and it’s fucking glorious. Your mouth and throat are his to use, and Kyle takes full advantage, guiding you down on his cock over and over again enough that you almost gag but don’t.
He groans loudly, his hips flexing upward slightly as he brings you down on him.
“Be good and swallow for me,” he purrs.
You hold still as Kyle finishes down your throat. You relax, take every drop, and when he slowly pulls you off his cock, you present your open mouth to him.
“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, helping you to your feet. One of Kyle’s hands drops to squeeze your ass and gives it a light pat. “Bedroom. Now.”
taglist:
@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @36namey @pearljamislife @wrathofcats @keiva1000 @pertinentpostmortem @enfppixie @bbyfimmie @berarenado @saoirse06
#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz smut#kyle garrick#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz garrick smut#kyle gaz garrick fluff#kyle gaz garrick mw2#kyle gaz garrick fanfic#kyle gaz garrick fanfiction#kyle gaz garrick fic#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick x you#kyle garrick cod#kyle garrick smut#kyle garrick fanfic#gaz smut#gaz x reader#gaz cod#gaz mw2#gaz garrick#gaz call of duty#kyle garrick fanfiction#gaz x you#gaz x female reader#gaz fanfic#gaz fluff#gaz fanfiction#cod gaz
265 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
hoopslab
Hoops Lab
deardiordiary
it girl ⋆ ˚｡୨ৎ
hujan-bulan-mei
pelangikecil.
thethievingbird
Sweet And Softly