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sadhours · 4 months ago

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kinktober day two • accidental stimulation

aka: melting

steve harrington x fem!reader

kinktober masterlist

cw: 18+, minors dni, dry humping, public sex (kind of), slight humiliation, p in v

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Scoops Ahoy! is the bane of your existence. Shilling ice cream for bratty kids and old classmates is a real pain in the ass. Especially on days like today, when you have to work with Steve instead of Robin. Steve’s annoying, always has been. You were once paired up with him for a biology project in high school and he didn’t do a goddamn thing but took credit and you’ve been holding onto that grudge for years. At the time, Steve treated you like the dog shit under his shoe but times have changed.

You’d sprouted tits and actually learned how to take care of yourself— how to wear makeup and style your hair. It’s landed you in a weird spot with Harrington. He hits on repeatedly, almost on the hour during hour six hour shifts. Maybe if he’d hadn’t been such a dick to you in high school, you’d consider it because let’s face it; Steve Harrington is a babe. A stupid, arrogant babe. It’s kind of fun, turning him down. Feels like you’ve won something. Even though, you ponder what would happen if you gave into his incessant flirting.

However, today, you wanna sock him right in his beautiful face. He’s been incredibly annoying, complaining how he hasn’t felt the touch of a woman since Nancy and how the uniform really isn’t helping his case. You’d beg to differ. He unfortunately looks… attractive in it. But he’s fallen off the social ladder and that’s why the girls reject him.

It’s closing time, you’re bent over into the drop ins. Covering the big gallons of ice cream when Harrington tries to sneak behind you to close up the topping bar. His crotch grazes your ass and he freezes. Pathetically, makes a shocked noise and presses his hand against the small of your back.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice echoing inside the drop-in freezer.

Steve doesn’t move, keeps his crotch firmly pressed against your ass and even rolls his hips. You can feel his cock hardening behind his polyester shorts and your eyes widen. Why the fuck isn’t he moving? And worse, how did he get hard just from barely grazing against you? He’s really down bad.

You try to look back at him but then he’s grabbing your hips, rolls his again and you stare stunned down at the tub of U.S.S Butterscotch.

He jolts back, you can hear his body making contact with the counter behind him as he exclaims, “It was an accident! I didn’t mean to…”

You pull your head out of the freezer and turn to him, a sly smile spreading across your lips, “Did that make you hard?”

“No,” he lies but the proof is staring you in the face, those little blue shorts doing nothing to help him hide it.

You laugh, soft and shocked and fine, okay— flattered.

“Wow,” you exhale, “I didn’t realize it was that dire.”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head and tries to look nonchalant, but his cheeks are red, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Another laugh, your eyes trained on his erection straining through his uniform and then he moves his hands to cover it. His eyes everywhere but on you. You hum, pout and tilt your head, “You’re not as suave as you think.”

He swallows hard, “I need to, close the topping station… I uh—“

“Yeah… and I need to finish covering the ice cream. I’m gonna bend back over and do that…” you tell him, feeling bold because well, it’s been a long time for you to and you can’t deny you enjoyed the feeling of him against you. “If I feel something… I’m just gonna keep doing what I’m doing.”

You spin back around and get back to covering the tubs. Steve’s not as stupid as you thought, because when you duck back into the freezer, his crotch is pressed against your ass again. His large hands wrap around your hips, holding you steady.

Thank god you guys were behind tonight. The mall has to be empty, gates all closed and the whole food court is quiet. You wiggle back against him and Steve lets out a sound you hate to admit is pretty.

Keeping true to your word, you act as if nothing is happening as you cover all the tub while Steve grinds against you from behind. And you let him. Welcome it, actually. Feel pretty because of it. You even grind back against him, feeling your thighs heat up. This is dangerous yet it feels like maybe it was bound to happen. A part of you thinks that maybe if you give Steve this, he’ll stop being so insufferable. Like he needs to have this kind of interaction with a woman in order to stop seeking it out so desperately. You want to give Steve what he wants— what he’s been begging for for months.

The pair of you keep grinding into each other for a while. Until you start to feel uncomfortable from the coldness of the freezer. So you pull yourself out of it. Move over to the register and bend over the counter. Steve follows you, presses himself up against your ass again and drags his hands down your back.

So you reach behind you, pull the skirt of your uniform up and then push your underwear down your thighs.

“Fuck,” Steve exhales as he watches and you can hear him undoing his shorts and shoving them down. “I’ve had dreams like this.”

Yeah, that’s a big inflation to your ego. And you can’t help but admit, “Me too.”

Steve groans lowly, brings his fingers to your cunt and rubs them up through your folds. He scissors your clit and then brings them back down, circling around your entrance. “I’m kind of big, I should probably get you ready,” he says and sinks two fingers into your pussy.

You gasp and moan, rolling your hips back on his fingers. Part of you wants to look back, see if he’s exaggerating but from what you could see in his shorts, you don’t think he is. Steve thrusts his fingers in and out of you slowly, spreads them while they’re deep inside and you have to bite your lip to keep quiet. You’re sure you’re alone in this mall, aside from the security guards but they don’t hang around the food court this time of night. Better be safe, though.

“You dream about me?” you ask, voice shaky.

“All the time,” Steve breathes out, pulling his fingers out but circles the tips of them along your hole. “Didn’t know it’d be so easy like this.”

You giggle, pushing your ass back against him as you tell him, “Me either. You’re a pain in my ass, but you are cute.”

“Am I?” he asks, leaning over you and kissing against your neck just as he slides his fingers back inside you.

A groan pours from you as you close your eyes, “Shut up, Harrington, you know you’re hot.”

He licks your jaw, then nips at it gently before pressing his lips against your ear, “I know I am. I didn’t know you thought so, too.”

God, you wish you could see his face— to remind you how much you really think so. You know he’s still wearing that dumb sailor hat he hates so much and you haven’t had the guts to tell him he looks cute in it. He adds a third finger and the stretch of it has you crying out. Steve fucking tsks, tells you, “Just wait until I get my cock inside you.”

“Do it,” you plead, pushing your ass back against him desperately.

He nips at your jaw again, fingers leaving you abruptly as he grips his cock and guides his tip towards your hole. Once you feel it prodding, you inhale sharply. He slips the tip in, stretching you beautifully— almost has you in tears but he goes slow. Allows you to adjust to every inch as he mouths at your jaw and neck.

You feel like you're melting, hands gripping the counter as he sheathes himself inside you to the hilt. He’s completely inside you, hands clinging onto your hips as your walls grip and pulse around his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine out, “You’re so fucking big.”

He groans, right against your ear and mumbles, “I told you…”

Everything is fuzzy. Scoops Ahoy! doesn’t exist. You’re in space with Steve’s impressive cock buried inside you, not in the mall where there’s a potential to be seen. He thrusts forward hard and deep, making you yelp. He grabs your jaw, turns your face towards him and kisses you sloppily, silencing your involuntary noises. He tastes sweet, like the maraschino cherries he snacks on. You wonder if you taste like the ice cream sundae he made you for your break. You try to think about when he slid it to you and said he made it with love. Which is easy to forget as he rolls his hips, cock dragging against your sensitive walls.

“You’re so tight,” he babbles out.

You reply with, “you’re so big…”

“Feel good, yeah? Me stretching you out?”

“So… fucking… good,” you give in, gasping into the sideways kiss as he delivers a hard and deep thrust.

Steve’s hands reach around, cupping your breasts over your uniform and you wish you weren’t at work— but somewhere where he could feel you up, completely exposed. This will have to do, though. He kisses your neck sloppily, repetitively across the expanse of it that his lips can reach. Small, quiet moans falling past your lips, hopefully muffled by the tinny speakers playing easy listening throughout the mall.

“Oh, god, Steve…” you whine, hips jutting into the counter from the force of his thrusts.

His hands knead against your chest as he presses his face against the crook of your neck and breathes, rugged and heavy. He picks up his pace a bit more and you know he’s close, so you shove your hand down between you and the counter. Get your fingers pressed to your clit and rub circles, mirroring the rhythm of Steve’s thrusts. The feeling of his breath against your neck is surprisingly pleasant. You focus hard on reaching your climax, luckily getting there before Steve. Unfortunately, you can’t keep your volume under control as you moan. Feel too good to really care, even. Steve whines from the sound, pulling out of you quick and then you feel thick, hot ropes of cum landing on your exposed ass.

Then the pair of you stay still, awkwardly— just panting. You turn your head to look back at him as he uses his apron to clean the mess on your skin. It makes you laugh, which causes Steve to smile and laugh. He’s got his shorts back up and he moves to pull your underwear up. Then you turn and look at him. He chews his bottom lip, staring back at you.

“I uh, forgot to ask you earlier but, could you give me a ride home tonight?” you ask, cheeks red in embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” he nods, looking as awkward as you feel.

You grab onto the collar of his uniform and suggest, “Maybe we could hang out at your place for a bit, first?”

Steve grins, gorgeous white teeth on display and he puts his hands on your hips, leans down and says, “Yeah, that could be fun.” before he plants a kiss on your lips.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x fem

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revasserium · 7 months ago

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to win and to lose

kenma, tsukki, hinata, kageyama; 3,200 words; fluff, lapslock, no "y/n", kissing, slightly!suggestive content, but mostly just tooth-rotting fluff, domestic bliss, post!timeskip characters, pro-streamer!kenma, olympics athlete!hinata, pouty!tsukki, and needy!kageyama

summary: you win some, you lose some, right?

a/n: truly just a few drabbles that came to my mind when i was sitting in a bath the other day; so pls enjoy some hq-flavored domesticity

kenma

“— alright chat, that’s it for today — i’ve got uh —” kenma glances over at the top of his collection of monitors at where you’re standing, holding two beers, a sly grin twisting the corner of your mouth. even in the strange blue light of his monitors, you can see his cheeks darken.

“— some stuff to do. see ya!” he ends the stream just as you round the massive table to set a beer down in front of him. he chuckles and reaches out to pull you into his lap, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a sigh.

“hey there, mr. ceo.” you smirk, twisting round to run your fingers through his hair, tugging out the loosening hair tie and cocking your head. kenma huffs, crinkling his nose, shaking his head as you continue to comb through his hair with your fingers.

“i hate it when you call me that.”

“mm, then… what would you prefer? mr… streamer boy? mr. stock trader? oh — i’ve got it! mr. simp-man.”

kenma scoffs, jerking forward so that you’re trapped against the hard edge of his gaming desk, his arms locking you to him. he’s grown since high school, but even so, his lithe build betrays the strength still hidden within his limbs from the endless hours of training, of playing.

“there’s no winning against you, is there?” he asks, his voice muffled by your skin, and you bite back a groan at the way he’s trailing his lips along the hard ridge of your collarbones. he peers up at you, a sharp, feline glint to his eyes, a hand reaching out to set your half-drunk beer on his table before hoisting you up with one arm. you squeak, the gesture taking you by surprise even as he carries you to the futon set up in strategically in the corner of the game room, put there for the nights when you’d lie there and watch him stream, when you’d close your eyes and let the rgb lights flicker across the backs of your eyelids like the northern lights, like so many midnight rainbows.

“well… seeing as you’re winning in so many other aspects in life,” you say, your voice nothing more than a sigh as he lays you down, fingers already tugging at the thin straps of your dress, “a little losing here and there might do you good, hm?”

“mm…” kenma hums, contemplative, even as he leans back and runs an appraising eye down the length of your body, “i mean… i did let kuroo talk me into joining the volleyball club back in highschool so… i guess you can say… in my own way… i’m sort of a sucker for punishment.”

tsukki.

“ah… that looked like a brutal practice,” you say, peering around the bathroom door. the sound of water splattering down skin echoes wetly through the enclosed space.

“aren’t they all?” tsukishima drawls, setting down the large wooden bath ladle to squint at you through the hazy mist. his glasses lie fogged and forgotten, set to the side.

you smile, slipping into the room with a fresh towel.

“i’ve got miso soup being warmed on the stove and an icepack in the freezer. take your time though — o-oh!”

a pair of arms reaches out to pull you down, and you barely catch yourself on the edge of the large wooden bath.

“t-tsukki! what —”

“it was a brutal practice.”

you barely hear the smirk in his voice as he sighs and props his chin on your thigh, the water from the bath staining you thin dress in seconds. you fight the urge the roll your eyes, reaching down to run your fingers through his damp hair, absently massaging at his scalp.

its rare to see him like this — rarer, even, to see him so openly vulnerable, even if there’s still the barest hint of a tease lurking beneath the tired rhythm of his voice, his breathing. like this, his long lashes are daggered into points by the steam, his normally pale skin made even more so by the bright bathroom lights.

through the water, you can see the new bruises blossoming along his thin legs, the old ones barely fading. thoughtlessly, you lean in and dip your hand in the water to trace a finger along one particularly large one at his right knee.

“what happened?” you ask, though you basically already know the answer — practice for a v2 league team happened. still, tsukishima glances down at the bruise with an oddly disembodied gaze and shrugs.

“dunno. dove to save a ball a few times.”

you laugh, tilting your head to one side as he leans back to press his cheek to your now damp thigh.

“wow, in practice? other team must’ve really pissed you off.”

at this, tsukishima crinkles his nose and scoffs. you hike an expectant eyebrow and wait.

“the jackals were over for a practice match.” his voice is clipped, but you feel your own laughter bubbling up in seconds. of course.

you bite back a giggle, “and… did you guys win?”

he glares up at you, eyes narrowed, “they’re a division one team. what do you think?”

“hm… but i thought hinata’s been off with a rolled ankle so…”

again, he scoffs, “that team’s plenty of other players who are just as annoying.”

you clamp down on your bottom lip, “wow. high praise.”

he whacks at the surface of the bath, splattering your dress even as you break into a bright peal of laughter. you reach down to flick him with a bit of water as well but he catches you wrist in his, fingers wrapping around your arm, the warm bath water slicking down your skin in thin rivulets, dripping off your elbow. you gasp, heart suddenly thrumming behind your eardrums.

the lopsided, slightly sadistic smile that slits his lips is stomach-twistingly familiar.

“tsukki… there’s miso soup —”

“mm. think i want something else for dinner instead.”

the low murmur of words is the only warning you get before you’re pulled bodily into the warm bath, the water soaking your dress, making the material cling to your skin in seconds. you squeak against his lips, rough and insistent and just a little pleading. you know it’s futile to struggle, so you let him kiss you, his teeth digging into your bottom lip as you groan, your fingers finally finding purchase along the slick skin of his shoulder.

“you — you’ve ruined my — my favorite dress…”

“hn.”

tsukishima doesn’t look at all bothered by your admonishment, shrugging, “it’ll dry.”

water sloshes over the side of the bathtub, now dangerously full with the both of you soaking in it’s steaming depths.

“was it really that bad?” you ask, affecting your voice into a soft coo, trailing wet fingers over the soft of his cheeks.

“if i say yes,” he asks, peering down at you as a lepidopterist might study a new specimen of rare, and newly captured butterfly, “would you try to make me feel better?”

you lick your lips, feeling your mouth go dry, despite being literally submerged in water.

“depends,” you say, “on if you’ll let me go turn off the stove first — wouldn’t want the miso soup to burn.”

tsukishima rolls his eyes, fingers tightening around your wrists, pulling you closer. there’s a dangerous light flickering behind his eyes; a dull ache pulses at the base of your stomach, singeing up your spine as you tip forward for another long kiss.

“thought i said already… i don’t think i really want miso soup for dinner anymore.”

hinata.

there’s a certain magic in watching him play — the way he treats every win like his first, or his last. the way the world seems brighter right around his edges, as if his own shimmer and shine might infect the universe if it would only let him.

he is incandescent with joy after the olympic qualifier games — scoring a ticket is no mean feat, and it’s not every day that you see bokuto cry.

“congrats, shouyou!” you’re one of the first to greet him after the press stint (and a shower), but you can still see the brilliant, glazed look to his eyes that tells you he’s still riding his high. his smile is wide enough to split the sky as he spots you, jogging over to hoist you up into his arms, spinning you round with almost comical ease.

“haha — thanks!”

he leans up for a kiss, one that’s sweet as it is heady. when you pull apart, you are still weightless, and his smile shines like a smile on pause — it makes you want to unpause it, and watch it unfurl.

you trace the pads of your thumbs along the tiny freckles dotting his cheekbones — souvenirs from his time in brazil.

“so! are you gonna come watch us?” he asks, making to walk down the decidedly not deserted hallway with you still in his arms. you blush at the thought, giving his shoulders a slight squeeze.

“shouyou… you can put me down now — and of course i’ll come! it’s not everyday that your boyfriend makes it to the olympics.”

several people chuckle as they watch him parade passed, you still firmly held aloft, your elbows propped on his shoulders to give you some semblance of balance. your cheeks burn as hinata hums, waving at a fellow teammate, reaching out for a fist bump.

“shou…” you fight the urge to bury your face in his shoulder as he finally rounds a corner into a much more private hallway. he grins, completely unabashed, as he pushes through an unmarked door to a what seems to be an empty locker room. it’s sparse, but well-lit and quiet.

“hm?”

he sets you down on one of the benches and drops a quick kiss onto your shoulder.

“i could’ve walked…”

“didn’t feel like putting you down,” he says, his voice dropping in register and taking on that darker, baser veneer — you hear the frayed edges, the sandstone texture, a tell-tale sign of a deep-seated hunger. a very specific brand of shouyou-flavored want.

“n-ngh —” you make a soft noise as he dips down to nuzzle into the dip of your collarbone, a tiny groan festering up the back of his throat as he sighs.

“been thinking about this…” his fingers dance up your sides, light enough to tease, but solid enough to remind you of just how close you both are to a ruthless press and the oogling public.

“sh-shou let’s wait —”

hinata whines, shaking his head, his hair tickling at the skin of your neck, “don’t wanna.”

and you sigh, weighing the option of pushing back or giving in. each has dangers and merits, but you know better than most that when hinata gets like this, indulgence is usually the only answer that will satisfy.

“plus… i just won a ticket to the olympics! don’t you think that deserves some kind of —” he casts around for a good enough word, pulling back with a smile that, in the right kind of slanted, locker room light, might just look like a smirk, “reward?”

you cock your head and blink up at him, letting your fingers tangle in the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, “what? the olympics ticket wasn’t enough of a reward for you?”

at this, hinata pouts, pushing his bottom lip out far enough for you to lean forward and bite it. the movement makes him groan, his whole body tipping forward to cage you back against the row of cool, metal lockers.

“you shouldn’t do that if you don’t think you can finish the job,” he says, pulling back just far enough for the heat of his breath to fan across your spit-slick lips. you lave your tongue across them, shifting beneath him as he cocks his head to stare down at you, his eyes wide and dark and misty.

“and… what job might that be?” you ask, breathless even as he dips down again to catch your lips in his, reaching down to tug you bodily up the length of the lockers before pinning you in place. once upon a time, it was easy to forget how strong he is — but now, it’s even easier to spot the stretch and flex of muscle beneath his sun-kissed skin, feel the strength of them as he holds you still with a single hand, the other tugging down the neckline of your top.

“mm… the job —” he skims his teeth across your skin; you gasp, eliciting a small, satisfied chuckle from him, “of being an olympic athlete’s girlfriend, of course!”

kageyama.

it is never the losing, and always the aftermath, and by now, you know the shades and slivers of all his specific kinds of silences so intimately that you know without him having to say how the practice match had gone.

“hey.”

you greet him by the door with a soft, placatory kiss. he grunts, toeing off his shoes before dipping down to wrap both his arms around you and pull you close. you let out a breathy laugh as you feel his nose digging into the curve of your shoulder.

“want some dinner?” you ask, reaching up to stroke his sweat-soaked hair even though you already know the answer.

“later,” he says, making no sign of wanting to let you go. instead, when you try to pull away, he leans down and scoops you up to place you on top of the kitchen island, slotting himself between your knees, and re-burying his face in your shoulder.

“then…” you let your voice trail off, feeling the exhaustion pour off him in waves. you dig your fingers into the tense line of his shoulders and feel them tighten up before they fall slack again. for a few minutes, he contents himself with letting you massage the worst of the knots from his shoulders.

“hn.” he lifts his head only to lean forward and find your lips with his. the kiss is slow and just a bit tired — as sweet as it is thorough. in the beginning, you’d worried that dating someone like kageyama would end up being the kind of short-lived thing that all the tabloids and magazines had warned you about — that he might grow bored after a week, a month, maybe half a year. after all, someone like him, with that insatiable need for more wouldn’t be suited for the kind of so-called ‘domestic bliss’ as it’s prescribed of most long-term relationships. but he’d surprised you, in more ways than one. he’d not only not grown bored, but had seemingly become ever more… entranced.

the pair of you had grown into each other, each day steadily getting closer. until the space the two of you shared became so inextricably linked there’s no telling who’s breath was caught in each of your lungs, of who’s scent it was that lingered in the fine linen lining of all your pillows and sheets. it’s become your’s. in the most cliche way possible.

kageyama contents himself with kissing you, breaking for small breath, and then kissing you some more. one kiss falling into another, and another, and another. till you’re breathless in just way he likes, till he’s breathless, in the way that he gets sometimes during a particularly intense rally. he knows he’s sweat-sticky and probably stinks of the gym, but the way you smile up at him when he pulls away makes his whole body go soft.

“let’s take a shower before dinner,” you say, tracing a finger along the shell of his ear. he bites back a frown.

“not a bath?”

you laugh, shrugging, “we could — but the food’ll go cold.”

“we’ve got a microwave.”

you smile, a smile that inspires — no, demands — another kiss. and so he does. you make a tiny, exasperated noise but don’t make to pull away. kageyama reaches down to pick you up, settling your thighs on either side of his hips as he maneuvers the pair of you towards the bathroom.

“food’ll be there when we’re done,” he mutters, gently placing you down on the side of the bathtub and reaching over to turn on the hot water. the steam rises in thick sheets from the surface of the water, and already, kageyama can feel his limbs loosening at the thought of a nice, long soak. he catches you watching as he strips off his practice clothes.

“see something interesting?” his voice is so measured you’d never know he’s teasing, save for the tiniest hint of mischief in his eyes. you blush and look away, tugging off your own clothes in an attempt to distract yourself. the water sloshes around his ankles as he steps into the bath, and you join him a second later, curling up against his chest as he winds his arms around you, the pair of you settling against each other like nesting spoons, cut perfectly for each other’s every bend and curve. or perhaps like russian dolls, one encasing the other — wholly and completely.

“when’s practice tomorrow?” you ask, turning to watch him lean back, his eyes falling shut to the soft trickle of water over skin. you know the answer, and so does he. but he shifts and answers you anyway.

“not till noon.”

“good,” you say, turning back to rest your head on his shoulder, “we can have a proper breakfast.”

“we always have a proper breakfast.”

you laugh, absently walking your fingers up the length of his bent leg, drawing tiny circles on his exposed knee, poking out of the water like a pale island amidst the green-tinted water.

“i can grill mackerel tomorrow — i’ll have the time.”

outside, the moon is white and full with love, the sky bloated with countless shimmering stars. inside the gentle quiet of your home, kageyama leans forward to trail a kiss to the bend of your bare shoulder; you reach back to cup his cheek. when he turns your face for yet another kiss, it is sleepy and happy, long and lazy. full, weighted, soaked through with the kind of surrender only known to those who love and are in love.

“the food’ll really be cold —” you gasp, twisting away from kageyama’s growingly insistent lips, “if we keep going like this.”

he makes a slightly irked noise before caging you back against him with a deep frown, “you said so yourself — we’ve got time tomorrow. so —” he leans in to bump his nose against yours, waiting for permission. you chew on your lips for a second longer before conceding. and he’s right — isn’t that what microwaves are for?

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bitchycatland · 2 years ago

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merakidoll · 3 days ago

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— the store is now open!

the coolness of the freezer blew against your nipples making them harden against the rose gold bar. you could hear customers. the opening and closing of the drink doors, how connie flirted with almost everyone he saw, the sport car engines that roared just outside, and the signature bell that dinged with every open and close. “you like this? such a slut sweet thang” ony’s country twang had your pussy clenching against him, your hands trying to grip the hard cold ground but it was impossible. “t-too deepp” you whined bitting your glossed lip. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, ony’s fat mushroom head plunging at every given spot inside of you.

“that’s how you like it mama.” he did a slight chuckle, then hissed slapping her ass and looking at the glass door to the drinks open almost right by where you two played. onyankopon smirked eyeing the man who was grabbing too many damn drinks than necessary. he could feel you tense, then squeeze his cock, his strokes slowing but the sound of your wet pussy never wavered. to top it off the small hiccuped whine you let out made the coustmers eyebrows frown, eyes looking up through the shelves”

“shut. the. fuck. up.” he gritted through his teeth pounding you. he spread your ass cheeks going deeper into your making your knees unlock which almost made you fall but onyankopon was quicker. it was already too late. he locked eyes with the man, continuing to beat your cunt and ignore how your squirted bitting your hand while your head rested against his shoulder. “you wanted to get caught huh ma?” ony spread his legs a little further, gripping the back of your thigh and picking you up fucking you up and down his length. the man continued to watch a feeling of ‘this is wrong - but too good to look away’ dawning onto him.

“o-onyyyy fuckk i-can’t baby” you knew - that your boyfriend knew - you loved what was happening right now. the way your pussy got extra juicy at the preying eyes, added with the overstimulation, and ony’s signature scent. “you can. ony’s big girl right sweetheart? take yo dick.” your squeaked at the feeling of you now getting slid up and down him slowly, the coolness of the freezer doing nothing to cool your hot bodies. the man who watched the whole ordeal dropped his Arizonans with a hard dick running out of the corner store.

connie - with a knowing smirk; sat down his magazine and gave him a small wave. “thanks for coming see you next time!”

#— writings!#onyankopon x chubby reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon smut #onyankopon x black reader #ony x reader #ony x black reader #ony smut #aot x black reader #aot x chubby reader #aot x reader #aot smut #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x black reader #anime x chubby reader #anime smut #anime x black!reader

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luveline · 9 months ago

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kbd —Steve helps an emotional you downstairs to sate some late night cravings. pregnant!reader, 1.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Steve stirs at the top of the bed to the sound of pinging springs. He rubs his eye, feels sleep free itself from his lashes as he pushes onto an elbow.

“Honey?” he asks.

You turn to him with a frown. “Sorry.”

Steve doesn’t want you to be sorry, he was just figuring out which of his best girls it was moving around. He forces himself to sit up and turn on the lamp, unveiling the sight of you at the end of the bed in your maternity pyjamas, flowy blue fabric with white polka dots you’d bought to match Beth’s.

“You need help?” he asks.

You sound like you’re having a hard time breathing. “I’m trying to put my socks on.”

“Yeah? You wanna go downstairs?”

You always put your socks on before you go downstairs at night or in the early morning. The floors get cold no matter what you and he try to do to prevent it. He promises one day you’ll have enough money for heated floors. He’s not sure where he thinks that money is coming from.

“I’m gonna go have some ice cream.”

Your night time cravings lately are unstoppable. Steve pushes the sheets back and round the bed to the end, giving your face a short touch, and then getting down on his knees in front of you with his hands held out for your socks. He’d offer to go get it for you, but you’ll say no, he’s too tired. The only loophole he’s found for this is coming with you.

You give him your socks and a sorry smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. You know what I say.”

“Can’t sleep without me.”

He bunches your sock up and rolls it over your toes and up past your heel, your ankle. He does it gently like he’s rolling them onto one of the kids’ feet, he can’t really help himself. He likes being gentle with you. You can’t see your toes, so you might as well have him be kind to them.

“Can’t sleep without you,” he agrees, again bunching up the fabric of your sock to roll over your toes and heel.

He tugs it up straight on your calf and leaves his hand there for a selfish squeeze. “There, now you’re ready. Want your robe too?”

You frown suddenly, a familiar twist of your mouth and nose, eyebrows pinching down as your eyes fill with tears. He shakes his head at you before you can talk, his hand moving to your knee for sympathetic rubbing. “Don’t cry.”

“You’re so nice to me.”

“I love you,” he says, pushing himself up to stand and hug you. “Please don’t cry, Y/N, it’s just socks. I love putting your socks on for you.”

“You treat me like a princess,” you say with a sniff.

“You deserve it,” he promises. He wraps his arms around your head and neck, kissing your forehead with a loving sigh. “You do. Please don’t cry.”

Once you start you can’t stop. Steve doesn’t mind calming you down, it’s not like it isn’t exactly what he signed up for, but getting upset is never good for the baby or your extremely stressed body. “Please,” he murmurs, “let’s go downstairs, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, voice thick with tears.

Steve wraps you in a blanket and ushers you through the master bedroom door. Your pregnancy hormones are as off the charts as they’ve ever been, though last month you’d been quite snappy. This week you’re crying multiple times a day every day. Steve keeps waiting to run out of patience, but he has a good few kids, and you’re not doing anything wrong anyways. So what if you’re crying all the time? He can’t imagine how stressful it is to be that tired and heavy like this, or how many hormones are pumping through you at the moment. He got you pregnant. It’s his job to mitigate the symptoms to the best of his ability.

You sit down at the table, knowing without asking that he’s going to get your ice cream. He grabs it from the freezer with your favourite spoon (not so big, not so little), and passes you both with a smile.

“There, honey.”

Before he met you, Steve wasn’t used to pet names. He’d say baby and babe, he was a player, then heartbroken, and they’d come out weird because he didn’t really mean them, or he didn’t get what they meant in the first place. He calls you honey and he feels at once like the husband he is but it’s more than that. You’re his honey. You deserve to know how much you mean to him with every sentence he says, and there’s no easier way to do that than to pester you with pet names.

You use them just as much as he does. “Thanks, handsome.”

“Do you want anything else?”

Again, your frown, tears in your eyes as you peel the lid off of pint and pick up your spoon. “I’m fine,” you say tearily.

Steve scoots a chair as close to yours as is physically possible and sits, his hand falling to your knee. He’d squeeze your thigh if it wasn’t impeded by the round hill of your bump, the biggest it’s ever been. From the start of next week onward you can expect to go into labour. Within the month, you’ll have had the baby.

Steve can’t wait for it, and he’ll bet you can’t wait to be done. He says your name softly, giving the side of your leg a great massage, “Y/N, it’s okay.”

“I know, I just love you,” you say through a mouthful of ice cream, the spoon still on your lips.

“I love you too, honey, don’t worry about it.”

“Do you want some?”

He knows saying no won’t help. It’s probably four in the morning and he can’t imagine anything less appetising at the late hour, but he says, “Yeah. Just a little bit. I’m watching my figure.”

You laugh, still full of tears, and scoop up some ice cream to feed him. When he’s had it, he presses forward for a kiss, to your delight. Steve doesn’t mean to brag, but he knows you well. Cheering you up is easy. He steals a second kiss just for him and beams at the reaction it invokes, breathless laughter that doesn’t fade as you scoop up another spoonful of ice cream.

“How come the baby never wants something we can keep in the bedroom?” Steve asks.

“She’s like her sisters.”

“Yes she is,” Steve says, moving in for another squeeze of your leg. “Can’t wait to meet her.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, ice cream dripping from your spoon. “She can’t wait to meet you, Steve. She’s kicking every time she hears your voice. I think she knows how good you are to me.” You clear your throat. “She can tell you’re the nicest guy ever.”

He shushes you tenderly. “Come on, honey, no more crying. I’ll have to start being mean to you instead, nobody wants that, I don’t want that.”

“Please don’t be mean to me.”

Your hurt voice startles him. “I’m just kidding.” He kisses your temple. “You think I’d do that? I can’t do that to you, babe, I don’t want to.”

He spends twenty minutes convincing you he was just kidding while you weep into his shoulder.

Poor girl, he thinks sorrily.

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rdcooling · 2 years ago

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midseo · 6 months ago

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pedge-page · 1 year ago

Text

Mother Who Provides

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: based off this lovely ask for sub Joel wanting to breastfeed and get jerked off, and hella Mommy kink!

Warnings: Sub!Joel, Mommy kink, breastfeeding, lactation, praise, love biting, assisted m masturbation, male orgasm, cum eating, little belly stuffing because this bitch just loves his Mommy's milk sm

18 + ONLY

- - - -

The first time Joel watched you breastfeed your newborn baby had him feeling all kinds of—different inside. You weren’t totally aware of it at first, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Every time you got up to go feed the little one, he was always within the same room, or meandering in the hall pretending to carry the laundry, or just finding an excuse to sit across from you and watch.

He thought it was just an awe—here’s the woman of his dreams who just single handedly grew a whole human being in her belly, then pushed it out all by herself after 13 hours of labor, and now is nurturing his child from her own body. You were like a miracle who just kept giving.

His cock getting hard was just the excitement of how amazing women were. That’s it.

But you had started to notice other things that were strange in his behavior. One time you had gotten up at 3am to feed the baby, Joel still asleep by your side. When you had finished and crawled back in to bed, reaching out for the warm security of his body, he wasn’t there. You groggily waddled down to the kitchen to find your husband chugging a gallon of whole milk like a fish out of water. His eyes fell upon you, the way you yawned, dressed in a dissheveled night gown and asked if he’s ok, unaware that you were rubbing your sore breasts in your palm. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, predatory eyes wide as he stares at your chest, ready to pounce on you like a wolf.

You knew pretty well right then what his little “problem” was.

From then on, you intentionally were seeking him out in tighter shirts so he could see your bouncing swollen breasts more clearly, leaning over in front of him more often, or just straight up asking if he could give you a tits massage. Complaining about how “sore” they felt, or not wanting your milk to go to waste since the baby couldn’t drink it all even after having an entire freezer full.

You feint a sigh. “Maybe I should donate it…”

“NO!” He shouts a little louder than he intended. “I mean… uh.” He coughs, unable to think of a reasonable excuse.

“Yeah? Who else is going to drink it, Joel?” You taunt. Joel was a tough man, but admitting things that he wanted was difficult to force out of him.

“I—I mean we—we could—“ he shook his head and went to sit on the couch. “Sorry, I mean. That’s a great idea. You should do that. Be nice for other moms.”

Joel wrings his hands together and looks away, clearing his throat.

You stride over to him and straddle his hips, his pupils going big with shock. You sit up on your knees with him caged under you, your breasts level with his nose as you rub your fingers through his brown curly hair. “Is that what you want?”

You can see the way his eyes are trained forward, looking at the swollen nipples poking through your tank top. He swallows heavily and licks his lips, hands resting on your waist, fighting the urge to bite.

“No…” he whispers softly.

“No? Is there someone else who should get Mommy’s milk?” You tease.

He closes his eyes, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“Speak, baby boy.”

“M-Me,” he says, head tilted up to you as he nuzzles the scruff of his cheek into your chest. You cup his head to firmly press his face harder, his nose gliding along the cleavage as he inhales your scent sharply. His hands creep up along your sides before grasping the droopy fat of the underside of your breasts, making you gasp.

You don’t even need to sit down on him fully to feel the tent poking your clit as you hover over him. He squeezes your tits roughly before wrapping his teeth around a nipple and tugging gently, releasing it with a satisfying bounce back in to place. The result was a slight damp spot around the peak where a drip of your milk seeped out.

And Joel Miller fucking whimpers for the first time in his life.

You hum in delight. “Can you ask Mommy nicely?”

He doesn’t hesitate: “Please, can I have Mommy’s milk?”

Holy fuck, you’re a sucker for your man.

Now a half hour later, Joel is still greedily suckling at your tit as if being starved his whole life. You’re sitting on the couch while cradling Joel’s head in your lap, having him lying down on his back in the perfect position for the milk in your breasts to just flow right into his hungry mouth.

His eyes are closed, jaw working open as his lips suction tightly, gulping your sweetness. You stroke the greying hairs on his cheek, feeling the way he hums contently vibrate against your skin.

He feels safe like this, in such a vulnerable position. The idea of protecting you, being on guard, defensive, all of that stress melts away while being swaddled by you. He can let go of worry, of anxiety, taking deep breaths and feeding soothingly under the gently, nurturing embrace of his beautiful, life-giving wife.

You had palmed his hard-on the entire time, not releasing it quite yet until you were satisfied with how full his tummy had grown. You could even hear the little sloshes of bubbles in his stomach as it filled with new nutrients. He’d let out a tiny whimper, milk caught in his throat when you’d squeeze around his base possessively before returning to your palming. His precum smears along his thigh and shorts.

“You’re so hungry, baby,” you coo, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “This whole time you just wanted a taste of Mama’s milk, hmm?”

He nods absentmindedly, refusing to let go of your golden titty.

Unsatisfied with his response, you grip his hair and yank his head down, his lips detaching and falling away from your breast. He lets out a needy whine and stares at you. “Y-yes Mommy. Wanted your milk. Please can I have some more?”

You giggle and nod. His tongue darks out to lick the little drips that had trickles down before attaching back to your nipple and suckling happily.

You pull his throbbing length out though the hole in his boxers. “Gimme a little spit,” you command softly.

Joel sits his head up, cheeks full of milk. You put your hand out in front of his lips as he release the creamy substance into your palm. Your newly silkened hand finds its way back to wrap around his base before stroking him.

“Ohhhhh f-fuck Mommy!” he groans, eyes closed and leaning back against your thigh. But the sensation was too good, hips bucking up that he had to force his chin back up to continue watching. Your fingers expertly curled around his mushroom tip with each pass, the assistance of the milk acting as a lubricant. He licked his upper lick, his leg twitching with how hot it felt. You lean forward a bit and push your tit closer to his lips again. His eyes dart to you, tongue sticking out to capture your nipple again before resuming his impatient guzzling.

“Naughty, boy, getting all hard when drinking from Mommy’s tit.” You swirl his slit with the tip of your nail, his steady flow of precut oozing out and mixing with the milk. You feel his throat flex with each stutter, his mind reeling in and out of sanity, fists balled at his sides to avoid taking control. Joel’s lips were a sin everywhere else on your body, and this moment was no different. They were full, pouty, and his lower lip juts out enough to be able to easily catch your nipple and hold on with each insatiable gulp.

“Maybe I should bottle it up and let you bring it to work with you. Can share your special bottle with the other boys,” you laugh.

Joel growls angrily, browns crunched as he bites your nipple possessive.

You hiss out in pain, fisting his curls once again. “Ow! Bite me again and you’re done,” you warn. His face relaxes, eyes staring up at you with sorrow as you resume your pace pumping his shaft.

“Ah-m srorry—Momm-ee,” he mumbles against the fat of your breasts, soothing over his bite mark with his warm wet tongue.

You sigh deeply. The weight on your chest is almost fully lifted now that Joel has swallowed so much of the milk that had built up.

Your baby was just so little right now, there was only so much he could fill in his tiny body, leaving you aching, heavy, and swollen all day and night. But your full grown 5’11 200 pound hunk of a husband? He could drink for HOURS and drain you completely so that fresh milk can replenish your system just for your baby.

“Maybe we should make your feeding a regular thing too. Would you like that?” You hum. You increase the speed of your hand, now jerking his cock violently.

“Ahh—ah! Ye-oh fuck, fuck Mommy—yes, yes I want it!”

“Yeah? You wanna be full of Momma’s milk all the time? Bet you wanna cum too. Taking such good care of me, I think you deserve a reward.”

He swallows another big load before his panting forces him away, creamy liquid spilling over his cheeks. “Ah—ugh-ugh oh fuck, fuck yeah! Wanna cum, wanna cum on Mommy’s hand, please! Please, keep tuggin’ my dick just like that, Fuck! FUCK yes Mommy!”

His mouth falls open, breath caught in his throat as you feel his hips raising off the couch slightly. You take the opportunity to lean forward and shove as much of your tits in his mouth as you can, suffocating him. His eyes roll back as the first of his cum spews up into the air, followed up big spurts rapidly shooting as you violently work his cock.

“Shhhh, that’s it, that’s my good boy, keep cumming all over Mommy’s hand, such a good boy. Don’t forget keep drinking your special milk. Mommy made it just for you.” You bite your lip at the idea of motherhood just falling so easily over you.

His whole body shutters, moaning and sucking around your breasts, unsure what to do with himself as he keeps cumming in your hand. His dick pulses the last of his spent, dribbling globs of sticky, thick semen all over your fingers and his full stomach. He quivers from the overstimulation, suppressing a burp.

You remove your hand, caressing the heft of his bulging stomach just as he takes a deep breath through his nose, calming his breathing. He opens his eyes to see you licking the glorious mess of his cum off of your palm, each finger dipping in to your sinful mouth and sucking his spend clean.

“Fuuucckkkk, that’s hot. Eatin my cream when I drink yours.” His eyes are positively drunk off of you. He babbles quickly: “Wanna keep ya milkin’ every year. Kids or not. These tits are mine. Keep me stuffed full of ya sweet cream, Momma. Never need to buy dairy again. Just drink it straight from the tap.”

You grab his hands down by his side and bring them up to your tits, guiding him to rub your sore breasts gently. “Gotta work them up to get more in you.”

Joel doesn’t argue, taking over the movement and squeezing your breast like icing bag, bringing your nipple back down to his lips as he milks more of your love into his mouth.

- - - -

Permanent taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg

#pedro pascal smut #sub!Joel Miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #last of us fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou smut #the last of us smut #sub!joel kingdom #sub!joel #lactating kink #pregnancy kink #mommy kink

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fuckingrecipes · 4 months ago

Note

How the heck do you bake with cold butter? Doesn’t it just sit there and not mix with anything? I can never get it to do what I think the recipe wants it to do.

Cold butter DOESN't incorporate fully into the batter, and that's the point.

Unmelted, hard butter creates little layers and pockets throughout the dough, and those pockets of butter create steam when it melts in the oven to make fluffy moist pockets of air. It's used often in scones, flaky pie crust, biscuits, and especially croissants.

Those recipes often also recommend you put the dough into the fridge, to really cool it off and KEEP the butter cold before baking it. This firms up the dough's texture, and it's less likely to spread out as much, compared to a dough that's baked starting at room temp.

Pie doughs particularly, may even ask for freezer-cold dough. This is essential for very fine flakes that are defined enough to HOLD UP to a filling being put on top of it.

Croissants are very well-known for their super flaky interiors.

This is achieved by rolling dough flat, making a sheet of cold butter and then folding the dough and sheet several times, rolling it out so it forms many thin layers of cold butter, between the dough. It can become a multi-day process because you have to regularly chill the dough to keep the butter from warming up too much.

Most recipes will say you need to dice the cold butter, slice it into sheets, or warm it to just barely cooler than room temp so you can smush into a shape (like the croissant's butter-sheet), then chill again to be cold.

#butter #croissant #fuckingrecipes #kitchen tips

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mattyriddlesbitch · 7 months ago

Text

Joining the Jinxed July thing that @thatdammchickennugget and @finalgirllx are doing.

Heat

Draco Malfoy x F!Reader

Warnings: cussing, oral(female receiving), unprotected sex, temperature play, ice play?

18+ Minors DNI!

It was your first summer you've spent with the boys and Pansy. You were all at the Malfoy Manor, hanging outside by the pool. Mattheo, Theo, and Enzo were playing in the pool. Blaise and Draco were relaxing on the lounge chairs, sunglasses on, headphones in. And you were under the shade in your own lounge chair, reading a book, Pansy beside you on her phone.

It was hot. You had no idea how Draco and Blaise weren't burning. At least the other three boys were in the pool. Even under the shade, in a swimsuit, you felt hot. But you also liked hanging out with the boys and Pansy.

“I'm gonna go grab a popsicle, I'll be right back.” You tell Pansy as you put your book down on the table between you guys. She gave a small nod in acknowledgement as you stood up and headed inside to the kitchen. You grabbed one of the popsicles in the freezer, enjoying the cool air on your skin for a moment as you stood there, cooling down.

“Can you handle the heat?” You heard behind you, making you jump before turning around to see Draco standing there, a cocky smile on his lips as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“I can.” You say as you close the freezer door. “I'd prefer not to, though.” You took off the plastic wrap around the popsicle before putting it in your mouth.

He watched the action, licking his lips before looking back in your eyes. “I have an idea on how to cool you off.”

“And what would that be?” You asked, licking some of the melted popsicle off your fingers.

He came closer to you, taking the popsicle from your hand with a small protest from you before placing it against the skin on your neck, dragging it around randomly. He followed behind it with his tongue, cleaning the sticky substance from your skin.

The popsicle cooled you off, but his tongue just heated you right back up. He lifted you onto the kitchen counter and put the popsicle back in your mouth as he cleaned up the small drops that ran down to your chest. You didn't even protest or push him off the whole time, just softly moaning and panting right next to his ear.

He quickly took off your top, before taking the popsicle back from you and circling your nipples with it, making you gasp from the cold.

“Draco, someone could walk in.” You said, a small whine leaving your lips.

“Let them.” He pushed the popsicle back in your mouth before licking and sucking at one of your nipples, groaning as he heard your quiet whimper. He did the same to your other nipple as he hooked his fingers in your bottoms and pulled them down. “You're wet, darling. Don't even try stopping me when you're clearly enjoying this.” He teased once he pulled back to look at your pussy.

He took the popsicle from you again before making you lie down. He dragged it along one of your thighs, following with his tongue again, repeating it with the other. He pressed it to your clit, making you jump from the freezing temperature as he let a few drops run down to your hole, mixing with your arousal. He ran the popsicle down before teasing your entrance, watching you clench around nothing as you whine and whimper.

“You're such a needy little thing, huh?” He teased before pushing the popsicle inside you, making you moan and grab onto the edges of the counter. It was hard to tell if you liked it or not, if it was too cold or that just made it better. He started thrusting it in and out before licking at your clit. The contrast of his warm tongue making everything more sensitive.

“Fuck, Draco. That's so good.” You moaned, grabbing onto his hair.

“Getting off on some ice, love? You should be ashamed.” He teased. He pulled out the popsicle, moving his tongue to push inside you instead as he cleaned away any remnants of the melted popsicle inside you. He pressed the popsicle to your clit, the temperature switch driving you crazy as you bucked up into him.

He pushed the popsicle back into your mouth, his thumb rubbing at your clit instead of you came, muffled by frozen treat in your mouth as you trembled.

“Merlin, you're such a slut.” He said as he stood back up, pushing down his swim shorts before lining his cock up with your entrance. “Couldn't even wait to get off on my cock.” He said as he pushed in, hissing at the feeling of you around him while you moaned around the popsicle.

He wrapped his hands around your thighs as he placed your ankles on his shoulders, pulling you towards him to meet his thrusts.

“Draco!” You cried out, grabbing onto his hands.

“That's it, love. Who's making you feel this good?” He said, moaning at the way your tits bounced with each thrust.

“You, you are!” You answered, letting the last of the popsicle melt in your mouth and letting the stick fall beside your head.

“Good girl. So fucking good for me. You're taking me so well.” He praised, feeling you clench around him, knowing you were close again. “Cum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Draco!” You cried out as your second orgasm hit you, clawing at his arms as he helped you ride it out.

He pulled out and finished on your stomach, coating your skin in his cum with a few muttered curses. You both caught your breath as you looked at each other.

“Come on, guys. We eat in here.” You heard Pansy say from the doorway.

Taglist:

@soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @leovaldezsbitch @brittney-121

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff

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#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys smut #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy #jinxedjuly

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