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dawn-moths · 3 months ago

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Hello how are you can I request Ronald with at frist shy looking and inocennt s/o,but she is actually really nasty and freaky and like some smut in there to i would be most thankfull i love your blog,lots of love😘😘

hello!! |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞ

i hope you like what i came up with. enjoy!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ronald Knox x Female Reader

word count: 4,000+

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, reader is described as being/dressing feminine, reader is called “good girl, baby” and referred to as "princess", the nickname “daddy” is used for Ron, sub/dom dynamics, size difference, finger sucking, reader is carried, minimal prep, masochist reader, rough sex, biting, choking, hair pulling, nipple play, cock warming, aftercare.

***

It always starts this way, it seems.

What begins as otherwise harmless kissing quickly evolves into something much more explicit. Much more obscene.

Because, just before things start to get a little more heated, you find yourself straddling Ron’s lap, your mouth hovering over his as you both breathe in each other’s air, panting like dogs left out in the afternoon heat.

You, his precious baby with the face of an angel and the mind of a little devil only he’s allowed to know.

You, his own personal little porn star.

And you’re shameless. Eager. So enticing that it takes every ounce of will he has not to just hook his thumbs into the waistband of those pretty lace panties he knows you love to wear and tear them to shreds, to push you back and pin you down to the couch and fuck you until there’s tears in your eyes and your voice has gone raspy and raw from all the sounds of pleasure he’s forced from your throat.

You, his shy little sex kitten, always teasing him in those skirts that are just a little too short, those necklines that are just a little too low, your body’s soft curves the kind that the ancient Greeks used to sculpt statues of, chipping away at cold marble until a woman was found somewhere among the jagged rock. Reverent. Ethereal. Sacred.

Only for him.

Only, you do feel a little bit of shame, if you were being completely honest with yourself. It makes itself known in the way your cheeks heat, in the way your blood goes icy-hot with embarrassment at how you must look like this. How debauched and needy and on your way to no doubt becoming a complete and utter mess by the time this session is over.

But that’s the thing about you.

The more shy you acted now, the more desperate and dirty you’d be for him later.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Ron asked with one of those soft, charming grins spreading across his spit-shined lips, his voice low and soothing. He gently gripped your chin between his fingers and turned your face, which you’d momentarily tried to hide by nuzzling it into your shoulder, back up towards him, coaxing your nervous gaze to follow. “What is it?” he further questioned, though with a lilt of an amused chuckle laced into his hushed tone. “Things movin’ a little too fast for ya?”

In response, all you could manage was a squeak and another attempt to retreat and hide your shy little expressions from him again, but he was faster that time and caught you before you could really escape. When his smile refused to falter you knew he wasn’t going to let you off easy.

“No, no, no,” he said, tone woven with mischievous mirth. “Don’t hide…” Then, leaning in close to whisper in your ear, his lips nearly brushing the shell of it as his warm breath wafted against your neck, he murmured, “Seeing you get all flustered is one of my favorite parts…”

Ron knew that your whole sweet-and-innocent act was merely a mask to cover what you both knew was really true about you. And that was the undeniable fact that you were quite the little masochist. You liked it when he got rough with you. Left you a trembling mess by the end of the night after covering you in the shape of his bite and several shades of bruises from the press of his fingertips.

But, even so, it wasn’t like that shyer side of you was entirely fake, either.

Your innocence, whether it was surface level or not, was one of the things that had drawn Ron towards you in the first place, after all. Because who didn’t love a girl who seemed like a little darling on the outside only to discover what a little devil she was hiding underneath all those coy smiles and cute little dresses and lacy lingerie.

Your tender sweetness also happened to pair well with Ron’s proclivity to tease.

“Don’t be mean…” you whined, the corners of your mouth pulling down into one of those adorable little pouts Ron loved to be the cause of.

At this, Ron merely let out another one of those low, borderline sinister chuckles under his breath. He placed both his hands on your hips, readjusted your position over his lap to spread your thighs a little further, pulling where you were no doubt becoming more sensitive and needy down to brush against where his own arousal was growing from under his trousers.

Upon feeling him rubbing against your core you couldn’t help but let out a helpless little whimper, the first flare of impatient need coming to life inside of you.

“Y’know…” Ron reminded you, reveling in every little wiggle or squirm he felt wrack through your body as he pressed you even closer against him, “if you just tell Daddy what you want, it’ll be a whole lot easier for him to give it to you…”

You were shy…

Until you weren’t.

“I want…” you began, voice a shaky little plea. “I want your fingers in my mouth, Daddy…”

The request came out as more whisper than words, your head feeling dizzy from the rush of blood that raced upward to burn from your chest to the tips of your ears even hotter than before, the embarrassment almost enough to cancel out your eagerness, though not quite.

“Oh yeah?” Ron taunted, a slight growl to his voice now as he felt his own desires threaten to spill over the edge, the arousal welling to the brim within him from the thought of it alone. “Well then…” He pressed the pad of his thumb to the plush of your lower lip, gently pulling down to coax your sweet little mouth open wider for him. “Guess I have no choice but to deliver on what my baby needs…”

Slipping one of his long, slender fingers along the slick warmth of your tongue, then two, feeling you sucking the digits down further until they disappeared all the way up to the seam of his palm, your throat bobbing as the tips of his fingers brushed against the back of your gag reflex, Ron couldn’t help but gulp as well, trying to keep his composure the best he could.

“God, baby…” he sighed, as if in prayer. You curled your tongue around him, coating his fingers further in your thick saliva, at which point Ron slowly pulled them free, dragging them flat across your tongue and shuddering at the thought of how your mouth would feel encasing other parts of his body, before wiping some of your spit across your kiss-swollen lips.

The more disheveled or dirty you became, the more beautiful Ron thought you were.

“Daddy…?” you asked, that syrupy shyness drizzled back over the word like you were still his innocent little angel causing his cock to twitch in his pants. You didn’t miss the way he was beginning to shift and squirm as well, likely just as impatient as you now, if not more so. “Do you wanna…?” You glanced over your shoulder at where the bedroom door was open just a crack, as if trying to tempt you with the promise of what lay inside.

Ron followed your line of sight, glancing back to you when you turned to meet his emerald gaze again. A smirk fissured across his boyishly handsome features, his own little demon stirring back to life.

He nudged your nose with his, hummed out a melodic note of affirmation, and then, the next thing you knew, he was hoisting you up to carry you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as his big palms cushioned the backs of your soft thighs, the silky flesh spilling between his strong grip.

He nudged open the door with his foot before swinging it closed in the same manner, not wasting a second before he had you lying back on the bed, pinned beneath him like a rare butterfly he’d worked hard to collect and had no intention of letting go.

Grabbing up both your wrists in one of his fists, Ron used his free hand to begin pushing your skirt up around your waist, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and rising a wave of chills over you, taking a moment to knead you there as you gently writhed under his hold, trying to squeeze your legs together to create even just a little bit of friction for yourself. But Ron recognized instantly what you were trying to do and coaxed your legs back apart, wanting to be the one to get you worked up himself.

You knew your panties must be soaked by now, the expensive lace likely ruined just from his teasing alone, but it wasn’t until he slipped two of his lithe fingers in through the side to glide through your delicate, drenched folds that you truly realized just what a mess you really were.

Ron let out an amused, prideful breath of a laugh. “So wet for me…” he half praised, half teased, applying pressure to your throbbing clit, making a gasp and one of those delectable little whines escape from your throat. “Just like that…” he said, rubbing skillful circles against the tender, swollen little bud. “So good for me,” he cood. “Always such a good girl…”

He let go of your wrists to use both hands to begin removing the ruined lace from you, encouraging you to help him in discarding it along with your skirt, and once you were left bare below the waist for him, Ron took a moment to admire you like that, all spread and vulnerable for his eyes only.

“So beautiful, baby…” he sighed, entranced. “You’re perfect…”

Ron thought you had the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen, all pink and glistening like the dewy petals of a rose, but he knew that the sight of it was nothing compared to how it felt squeezing around his cock. It was a sensation he was addicted to. Just the mere memory of your most recent time together was enough to make him feel like he could lose all control, becoming more desperate to satisfy his desire by the minute.

Lucky for him though, he knew you liked it rough, so if he didn’t take the full time needed to prep you, you wouldn’t necessarily hold it against him.

You both were still half clothed, and the humidity of the room and the body heat being exchanged between you two was near stifling. You needed the rest of your clothes off soon or else you’d become so hot and frazzled you’d hardly be able to think. Not that you needed to when in Ron’s hands. He already knew what you wanted, what you liked, though, lucky for you, he also wanted the rest of your clothing off.

“Arms up,” Ron told you, already gathering the hem of your top in his hands, halfway to tugging it up your chest, eyes unable to help but catch on the sight of the pretty matching bra that currently cradled your breasts. You obeyed without hesitation and soon found yourself fully exposed, the room now feeling a few degrees cooler.

Ron began hastily unbuckling his belt, the strain of his erection having grown painful with how hard it was trying to free itself from his trousers. He quickly discarded the remainder of his clothing, biting back a groan as he took his pulsing length in his hand, though couldn’t stop the punched out, “Fuck—” that escaped his lips when he slid it between the silky petals of your dewy folds, gathering more of your slick before lining himself up with your tight little entrance.

You wanted him to take his time, allow you to feel every vein and ridge of him, but for as much as Ron usually indulged you, it seemed that tonight time was going to have to wait.

“Now be a good girl for me,” he instructed, already sounding halfway to being out of breath, “and hold still for Daddy—”

With his hands gripping your hips hard enough for bruises to bloom beneath his fingers and one quick, harsh thrust, Ron buried himself down to the hilt inside of you. You let out a broken cry, head thrown back and neck craning as you felt yourself suddenly split by the familiar aching pleasure his cock provided.

And it hurt.

It hurt so much.

But you fucking loved it.

“That’s it, baby…” Ron panted, hunching over you while you both took a moment to adjust to each other’s bodies. “Good girl… Always so good at taking my cock…”

He was peppering chaste little kisses along your temple and jaw, a feeble attempt to distract you from the stringing stretch he’d just forced your body to endure as well as an apology for the soreness he knew you’d feel tomorrow because of it, a thin sheen of sweat already beginning to break out over the both of you.

But soon, all you could focus on was the slow drip of euphoria that was on its way to taking over your brain, some of the pain numbing as it gave way to pleasure.

When Ron first began moving, it was slow and rhythmic, all prior rush gone from his intentions. But the more your cunt clenched around him, the more erratic he seemed to become, hips stuttering in their motions as he struggled to keep a consistent rhythm. And by the time you were whimpering out a pathetic little, “Choke me,” well…

Ron just about lost it.

One hand rested over the delicate curve of your throat, Ron wanting to feel the hammering of your pulse for a moment before he cut off your air supply. Your eyes glittered up at him through the low light, so much love and trust and dangerous desire all wrapped up in your gaze. He held you in suspense for a moment, waiting until the frantic rise and fall of your chest slowed to something much steadier and controlled. Then, after you took your next inhale, his grip tightened, squeezing around your neck and making your eyes roll when you realized, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t breathe.

Not unless he allowed you to.

Ron kept careful count of the time going by though, knowing your limits, having committed them to memory, and when you first gave his wrist a tap he knew you were backing out prematurely. When he refused your first request, he felt your pussy flutter around him, the adrenaline on the verge of surging through you and breaking away into panic. Your vision started to blur and you tapped again, and that time, Ron obliged.

You sucked in a gasp of air, panting in shorter, more panicked breaths for a moment while his hand still rested over your throat as he admired you like that.

He’d ruin you and you’d gladly let him.

But something then seemed to occur to him as his fingers traced down to the line of your collarbones and the supple flesh of your breasts.

Those perked little nipples of yours were looking awfully neglected. And what kind of boyfriend would Ron be if he let that stand?

You let out a squeak when his mouth found the first pebbled bud, being gentle at first, teasing you with his lips and tongue until you were arching your back to push further into the wet warmth of his mouth. Ron had to hold your hips down as you began to squirm, wanting to feel every little shiver, tremble, and twitch your body made as he granted you more pleasure, each reaction felt as your cunt massaged his girth to varying degrees.

As his mouth tended to one side, his fingers took care of the other, only switching when he felt like your reactions became less intense. You were so sensitive everywhere he touched you, it seemed, so delicate to his ministrations, he could play you like a harp. And, in return, you’d make the most beautiful, melodic music for him as his fingers pulled at your strings, your moans the prettiest sound he’d ever heard.

But once your stomach started clenching in rapid succession, Ron knew he had to take a short intermission on this song you two were composing together. Just long enough to ensure you made it through to the encore, at least.

Lifting one of your legs, Ron threw it over one of his freckled shoulders to spread you even wider for him, sinking in so deep you swore you could feel him in your tummy, the mere implication making another rolling wave of arousal course through you and causing Ron to breathe out another one of those helpless, stuttering curses. His muscles clench as he rolls his hips in to meet yours, back to being slow and controlled.

But you needed more.

You needed it rougher.

“Harder…” you pleaded, breathless and wanting.

Ron readjusted the both of you, once again taking your wrists in his grip and pinning them both beside your head, something to anchor you down for what came next, but you coaxed him to let you lock your fingers with his. It feels more intimate his way, and already knowing how rough he can get when you ask for it you feel better knowing that this simple act of handholding will help to balance out the consequences of his strength.

Ron starts to pick up speed, each time pulling almost all the way out before spearing his cock back into you, likely hard enough to ensure he was going to have to take care of you all day tomorrow, his poor little baby too sore and raw to even get out of bed on her own.

But that’s ok.

That’s what he’s here for, after all.

His glasses begin to fog and his breathing is reduced to shallow panting, the shimmering veil of sweat that covers you both thickening under the growing humidity emanating from your bodies.

When the next request to roll off your tongue is a slurred whine of, “Bite me, Daddy…” Ron doesn’t hesitate that time. He lets go of your wrists, leans down and sinks his teeth into the tender spot between your neck and shoulder, letting out a desperate whine of his own when you followed up with a pained, shuddering exhale of, “Harder—”

You let out a yelp as you thrash beneath him, Ron increasing the pressure until the skin breaks and he tastes blood. But he doesn’t let go. Not yet. Because your trembling little hands have formed tight fists in his strawberry blonde locks, pulling so hard at the roots that his scalp prickles with sharp, staticky pain. Just when it was becoming too much, you yanked his head back hard enough that he takes the cue to unlatch his bite from your flesh, pink-tinted strands of saliva keeping his mouth connected to the new wound he’s gifted you for a moment before he created enough distance to have them break.

You were both panting and shaking, like two animals on the verge of death, and when he saw the vicious red indents carved out in the shape of his mouth, saw the blood that was trying to well in the deepest parts of the injury where his incisors had pierced straight through, Ron felt a small sense of dread for a moment. Because, as much as this has become to be expected between the two of you sometimes, he couldn’t help but fear he might go too far. That he might hurt you for real, in a way you wouldn’t get some sick sense of pleasure from, and that you’d stare up at him with fear instead of love.

But, looking down at you now, all he can seem to find as he searches your gaze is that beautiful, tender adoration that he’s pretty sure he would die without at this point.

But now it was time to finish this.

You were both close to the edge.

Ron preferred when you fell together.

Once again, his motions become rhythmic and savoring, ever the master of the push and pull between control and carnality, though kept up the speed needed to match each other’s oncoming orgasms.

He’d come to know your body so well, how it reacted and responded to his, that the moment he felt your stomach return to its rapid fluttering, like a little bird taking flight, legs tensing as your cunt constricted around his cock harder than before, he knew you were mere seconds away from coming undone. After three more thrusts, he’s right there with you, spilling his balmy warmth into your tight wet heat as you gush your glistening arousal all over his cock, both of you making a mess of each other in tandem before all that heady tension begins to slowly bleed away, leaving the both of you to fall slack and satisfied, the air heavy with the scent of your unrestricted love.

But Ron doesn’t pull out just yet. He likes to feel the aftershocks, the way your pussy flutters weakly around him as he goes soft, both of your combined juices drooling out of your abused little hole and staining the bedsheets below while your bodies are still one.

Once some of his senses returned to him, Ron carefully pulled out, bringing a trail of cum along with his blushing cock, and scooped you up in his arms so you could lay draped across his damp chest, his hair a tangled, tousled mess and his glasses smudged, yet something about him being disheveled like that only added to his charm.

He liked to let you doze off, if you wanted to, gently stroking your arm or your back or your hip with one hand while your eyelids became increasingly heavier until they had no choice but to fall closed, allowing him to tend to you once you’d fallen asleep. But when his fingers lightly traced along your shoulder and you winced, sucking in a small, sharp hiss, Ron remembered the mark he left there, the blood having rusted over to glaze the wound closed, but only just barely. Now that some of the adrenaline had worn off, he knew you must feel the sting, all the cuts and bruises he’s caused you flaring back to life and pulsing with the aftermath of the pain.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” he whispers to you as he carefully shifts you over to lay your heavy head on the pillow, venturing into the bathroom to gather all the things he needs to help nurse some of those wounds born from the heat of the moment.

You wait patiently for him to return, blinking open half-lidded eyes to gaze up at him as he reclaimed his seat on the edge of the bed. He praises you as he cleans the bite, tells you what a good girl you were for him, how brave you are when he dabs some disinfectant on the imprint of his teeth and you barely even whimper at the sting of the salve. He looks over your neck, the bruises darkening, and asks you if it still hurts. You shake your head, say you can barely even feel that one, and he hums out a note that alludes to being pleased, but also hints at something secretly prideful as well.

Because who would’ve been able to guess what a high tolerance for pain his perfect little princess hid so skillfully from those around her, a dirty, sinful little secret concealed beneath cute, flouncy little outfits and pretty hair and glossy lips.

But, the best part, it was a tolerance only Ron got to test.

A standard he got to help create.

“I know it hurts, baby…” Ron murmurs as he carefully cleans your sore little hole with a warm washcloth, gently dragging it through your folds to collect all the cum that’s begun to glaze over your skin and harden into salty crystals. “But you’re being so good. Almost done…”

Once he’d dressed you in one of his oversized t-shirts and placed a goodnight kiss to your forehead, Ron tucked you in under a clean blanket and returned to the bathroom to take care of his own mess. He tried to make it quick, knowing there’s a good chance you’d already be asleep before he’s able to curl up next to you, but when he returns and you’re still awake, he can’t help but give you another one of those soft smiles.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he kindly reminded you, though he’s glad you did.

When his chest is pressed to your back, his warm arms wrapped around your middle, you unexpectedly shift to turn and face him. He considered you with a slightly puzzled glance, but then you were leaning forward to press your lips to his, your tongue teasing at one corner of his mouth before pulling back.

“There was a little blood,” you told him, those adorable doe-eyes of yours that could just about hypnotize him glittering in the dark, “but I got it…”

Ron sighed out a tired chuckle through his nose as he tugged you in closer to his chest, letting you get comfortable as you found the right angle to intertwine your legs.

“Night, baby,” he cooed. “I love you.”

“I love you, too…” you replied, already sounding halfway to a dream.

And, as if he ever needed a reminder, Ron falls asleep feeling like the luckiest man alive.

Lucky, because he’s the only one in the entire world who gets to call you his.

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clowningcrows · 1 month ago

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if i were to say that, hypothetically, i may have an idea for a multi-chapter agathario fic with some au expansions on certain scenes (specifically in episodes 4 and 5 *cough*), so many thousands of words of lowkey very filthy smut with needy, vulnerable yet bratty bottom!agatha and gentle, dominating possessive top!rio smut, AND extremely angsty flashbacks to agatha's backstory with her mother as well as rio with a lotttt of hurt/comfort... is that something that anyone at all would want to read perchance. hypothetically of course.

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morelikeravenbore · 2 months ago

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He found her lips and said it again, right into her mouth as if she might taste it, consume it; and she swore she did — tangy and sweet, like salt and iron tinged with sugar and mint; it saturated his breath and dripped from his tongue, and she thought that if he stopped kissing her right then, she might actually die.

— How to Make a Villain, chapter twenty-six snippet.

#hold onto your socks babes things are heating up #post near-death experience makeout sesh #don't worry its still sfw #I promised no smut and I meant it #LOL usually people are promising the opposite #aurelie collins #sebastian sallow #how to make a villain #sebaura #morelikeravenbore writes #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow x f!mc

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wedontdeservethestars · 10 months ago

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JOHNNY CAGE X SHORT CHUBBY READER I TELL YOU HE LOVES HIS WOMEN THICC

ANON I'M NOT EVEN GONNA SAY THIS A CORRECT OPINION BECAUSE IT'S SO CORRECT THAT IT'S A STRAIGHT-UP FACT. Johnny prefers his girls chubby change my mind!!!!!!!!!!! (Hint: you cannot)

Anyways I know I say that I never write smut but I uh. I did this time. Congrats anon you got me to come out of my shell for Our Boy

Content: reader has female genitalia, smut, fluff, body worship, overall just a Lovely Time between you two

(Pspspsps I also put this on AO3 if anyone would like the link for that teehee)

You had no idea what it was about red carpet events that made Johnny up act but, but every time he invited you out to accompany him, it was a constant fight not to let the paparazzi see his hands all over you. Not that you minded much, but hey, one of you had to have some decency. Maybe it was the stream of complementary alcohol, maybe it was seeing you all dolled up in a pretty silk dress, maybe it was the inherent nature of red carpet events essentially being an excuse to say, “Hey, look how pretty I am, look how pretty my partner is,” or maybe, just maybe, it was a combination of all three.

Never mind, you thought as Johnny pushed you up against the front door. It’s definitely the dress.

Just like they had been for the past few hours, his large hands were grabbing and squeezing ever part of you he could manage like a fucking kid in the pillow section at Bed, Bath & Beyond. And the more he felt each curve, the more excited he seemed to be getting, attacking your throat and shoulders and face with his mouth.

“Hey,” you chuckled breathlessly. “Easy.”

“Don’t know–” Another kiss on your neck. “What you’re talkin’ about–” This one landed on your soft jawline. “Doll–”

“Can we at least get to the couch or something before I’m fully nude this time?” you whispered, a smirk playing on your lips. Johnny looked at you very seriously and shook his head.

“No shot.” He grabbed he straps of your dress and, with a not-too-unhappy sigh, you slipped your arms out of them. Your puppy of a boyfriend knelt in front of you and slowly, teasing both you and himself, pulled the front of your dress down. He really did love how it looked on you, the tight material hugging every single rondure and roll, the deep red shimmering in each crease of the fabric. But even more than he loved you in that dress, he loved you out of that dress.

You let out a soft sound as his hot sigh of breath tickled your skin when he saw you standing there just in your bra and panties. Without fail, he always acted as though he was seeing you for the first time whenever you were in any state of undress.

“Fucking goddess,” he murmured, and then his lips were all over your front. He was hugging your thick thighs like they were the only thing that would save him. His mouth dragged all around your belly and chest, pausing on occasion to kiss more deliberately or nibble a piece of soft skin. Each pause earned a small gasp or sigh from you.

“Johnny,” you whispered.

“Huhm?” He glanced up at you, midway through giving one of your love handles a hickey and not bothering to stop.

“You’re…” Your thoughts swam madly. The only thing you could focus clearly on were the warm tingles coursing through your nerves. You could hardly put a sentence together. “I need you on top of me…”

A smirk fell upon his lips and he pulled away from your tummy, admiring his work for a moment. Then, he grabbed your ass with both hands and squeezed hard, humming.

“I can do that.”

In a flash, he was lifting you into his arms. You couldn’t stop a smile from coming across your lips–somehow it always surprised you when he carried you, even though you knew that he was more than strong enough to support your weight. All that time spent building up his muscles wasn’t just for show.

Your bedroom was an agonizingly long way away up a whole entire flight of stairs. Clearly, Johnny couldn’t wait that long, because he brought you to the nearest couch instead (well, technically it was a fainting couch; Johnny said he needed it for dramatics, whatever that meant).

Johnny wasted no time in unhooking your bra and discarding it on the floor. Your panties were next. The velvet sofa felt foreign against your bare skin, but not unwelcome. He took a breath as he straddled you and began to unbutton his dress shirt. The whole while, he stared down at you. His brown doe-eyes gleamed with adoration.

“Look at you,” his voice rumbled like distant thunder.

“You’ve been thinking about this all night, haven’t you?”

“Ohhh, longer than that,” he chuckled. His hands were tracing you again. He couldn’t seem to help himself. “I’m always thinking about this, stardust.”

“It’s so hard to tell,” you teased, your own fingers dancing along his toned thighs. His skin felt hot, and you didn’t think it was just because of the Californian summer heat.

“Like it’s my fault?” He leaned down and peppered kisses all along one of your breasts. Pausing before continuing on, he grinned up at you, “How’m I supposed to keep it in my pants when I have the most gorgeous girl on earth around me all the time?”

A moan slipped out of you as he pulled your nipple between his teeth and grabbed the other between his thumb and forefinger. You squirmed beneath him and tried to get a coherent response out.

“Can–God–can you–” Your breath was short. “Need you to touch me…”

“Yes, ma’am.” Johnny gladly slid himself down, taking the time to admire and graze your belly with his mouth. You could feel how hard he was against your plush thighs, one of which he grabbed and hung up over the back of the couch while the other he spread so it swayed over the floor.

“God damn, you’re so fucking wet already, aren’t you?” he grinned, running a finger up your folds. You felt it all the way through your spine and it made you buck your hips up.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, dazed.

His tongue was next, pressing hard against you and flicking expertly between your sensitive lips. A sound that you had never made in your entire life escaped your throat. It only seemed to encourage Johnny as he quickened his pace. For once, he was completely silent save for the occasional grunt or groan, and for the absolute most blissful reason possible. You wanted to praise him, tell him to keep going and that you loved him and that you were in heaven right now, but your words wouldn’t work. Fortunately, the way you were moaning was probably sending the message pretty clearly.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair, watching his head bob beneath you. From the way his own hips moved, you could tell he was rubbing his bulge against the couch as he worked on you. His hand, not to go unexercised, gripped one of your thighs–the one propped up on the backseat–and began to massage it. In turn, you yanked on his hair, making his groans vibrate against your pussy. You did it again and again, feeling your heart race. Warmth built up in your chest, and your stomach, and especially your nethers.

After a bit, you pulled his hair more gently, guiding his mouth away from you. Johnny seemed confused and hazy, like he’d just been pulled out of a dream. “I don’t wanna cum yet,” you whispered. You were too close, and too fast. You needed this to last.

“Can do, babe.” He flashed a smile and sat up. “Gives me some time for this…”

You watched as Johnny finally pushed his slacks down and pulled his length out of his boxer-briefs. He was throbbing and hard, and as he began to stroke himself you could see his tip glistening with precum.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he groaned, leaning his head back as he ran his thumb over his slit.

Suddenly, you decided that you did need to cum. Right now, in fact. You grabbed his hips and guided them forward, an eager look in your eyes. Immediately, Johnny understood.

“Yeah?” he breathed, his lips curving into a smirk.

“Please,” you nodded. Johnny spat into his hand and rubbed it along himself. He tilted your rear up a bit and positioned himself at your entrance. He paused and looked down at you. He smiled.

“What?” you breathed.

The smile, mischievous and greedy, widened. He didn’t move. You let out a whine and pouted.

“Johnny! Don’t—don’t tease, I can’t right now—“

“Then tell me,” he murmured. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please?” You looked up at him with shiny eyes. “Please fuck me…”

He pushed forward��just enough to brush up against you. “I’m not convinced.”

“Please!” you cried out again. “I need it so bad, you feel so good, and—and I wanna cum, please?”

Johnny chuckled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to the center of your chest.

“Only I can make you feel like this. Right, baby?”

“Right,” you nodded quickly. “Yes. You’re fucking—amazing, and, and so hot…”

“Yeah, I am,” he whispered, and then without warning he slid right into you. You let out a whimper so loud that you clapped a hand over your mouth afterwards, your cheeks turning bright red at whatever that was. Johnny chuckled breathlessly and took your hand away, pinning it behind your head.

“No, no, babe. I gotta hear all those pretty little sounds my gorgeous goddess wants to make.”

On cue, the remark made you moan. He rewarded you with a firm thrust against your soft hips. His unoccupied hand sank into your side as he pumped over and over again.

“God—so pretty—“ he muttered. His face was growing several shades darker as he continued.

“Please, please,” you begged again, curling your fingers into fists.

“You close again?” His soft voice broke through.

“Mhmm…” You writhed for a moment before letting your body flow with his, both of you bouncing back and forth. Your eyes fluttered open every now and then. Each time you did, you saw Johnny gazing down at you, his eyes lusted over but filled to the brim with complete obsession with this. With you.

“Oh–” you whispered soon, squeezing your eyes shut. “Johnny, I–I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead, princess,” he nodded, his voice husky and low in a way that you only ever heard during times like this. It drove you over the edge. With one last cry, your legs quivered and you felt yourself close around him, causing a similar moan from him, and each nerve in your system was full of warmth and complete euphoria for a split second. Your breaths began to even out. Your muscles relaxed. Johnny pulled out as you lay there, panting, and finished the job for himself above you. A warm spray landed on your tummy as he grunted and groaned, and then it was over.

Both out of breath, both smiling like idiots, both completely satisfied.

“Oh, babe,” Johnny sighed about nothing in particular. He sat back and let you shift into a more comfortable position. Everything felt warm and sticky, but you didn’t really mind.

Johnny trailed a hand up your still-wet stomach and rubbed it gently across all your belly, coating the front of it with his cum. You gave him a shaky sigh at the gesture. It felt strangely nice.

“I’d offer to clean you up, but you look so pretty like this,” he admitted, giving you a half-hearted shrug. You laughed softly as he stood up anyway and, after nearly forgetting to tug his boxers up, wandered down the hall to one of the first-floor bathrooms, leaving you to bask in the veil of after-arousal.

You didn’t even notice he’d returned until you felt the towel touch your skin, damp with warm water and no doubt imported from some European country. Once you were all cleaned up, you reluctantly sat up and noticed the dark velvet of the couch was stained where you two had been before.

“Oops,” you chuckled, feeling a little guilty for ruining the luxury fabric but not enough to regret anything.

“Eh, that’s what the maids are for,” Johnny shrugged, taking a seat beside you. He rested his head against your chest, sighing contentedly.

“I’m so tired now,” you mumbled. “We didn’t even do much…”

“Minus the whole night of drinking and partying?”

“I guess.” You rolled your eyes and rumpled his hair. The pomade he’d slicked it back with had come loose a few hours ago, leaving several strands hanging down in his face. It was cute.

“You’re pretty,” he said suddenly.

“So you’ve said.” But it still made you blush.

“I know. But I mean it. You’re the prettiest…ever,” he decided on.

“Hun,” you laughed softly. “Well, thank you.”

“I’m lucky.” He pouted for a moment as he thought. “People always say that. I get lucky breaks and lucky with auditions and lucky with all the deals…but that’s not luck. It’s charisma and talent and whatever. Lucky is, is meeting someone like you out of the blue. Finding you out of seven million people on this earth.”

“Billion.”

“Huh?”

“It’s seven billion people.”

“Whatever.” He buried his face in your chest, muffling is speech. “You get my point.”

“I do,” you whispered. You stroked his hair again and smiled as he gave you a big squeeze. You said, “I love you, too.”

#GOD #i wanna start a series of johnny x chubby!reader #Actually. As a Plus Sized Lady Myself.#ive been considering only/mainly writing for chubby readers (not that theres really that much difference between writing chubby readers vs-#--nondescript ones but its about the INCLUSION and the knowledge that a person can go into a fic without having to read 'the small of your-#--back' for the 100th time while being like bruh im fat wtf)#ANYWHO i really like how this turned out even tho i dont usually write smut!! thank you for the suggestion anon hehe #wedontdeservethefics #anon #asks #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x fem!reader #johnny cage x chubby!reader #fem!reader #chubby!reader #mortal kombat

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lunavagans · 1 month ago

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Idea for what I‘m calling the fairytale AU right now. Ganon‘s not around, the colours are siblings and Vio‘s a scholar who wants to save his reputation, job, feeling of self-worth and dignity. Shadow‘s a fay and, compared to the manga, relatively chill - he just bothers travellers for fun and definitely never abandons them to the wolfos.

Vidow slow burn with a fantasy scientist/test subject dynamic, no angst, just magic, mystery and mistaking your gay awakening for a supernatural being because all of your brain cells are basically fraying at the seams because of stress and anxiety. (That moment’s not in this part, but it‘s the scene I‘m building everything off of. (Also it‘s not like Vio‘s wrong.))

(500-ish word intro below cut)

The people of Hyrule are loud in their worship of what they believe in. They host celebrations lasting days, sing and cheer and cry in the name of the Golden Three and Hylia. Pride is all to see in the chaotic parades and the solemn prayers, and in the libraries and studies afforded to their teachings.

Gilded columns and stained glass windows painting light-brushed images on stones floors are the backdrop to that which is good and holy and familiar.

The people of Hyrule whisper about that which they doubt. Behind closed doors and fences of salt and iron, they protect themselves from invisible ears, earthly, divine or otherwise. But no matter how often they‘re assured that the mischievous and malevolent will be held at bay by guards and priests, they can never stop believing in the shapes rushing through the night.

All known about these others are hushed accounts from trembling merchants led astray, symbols in the fields and stars misarranged for one night.

In the bastion of the Goddesses, the golden-dappled towers and roofs of Hyrule City, there lives a scholar. With three brothers accomplished in other fields, a father distant and awkward in his good meaning, an absent mother and no close acquaintances, he‘s lonely - starving for things he refuses to name, all but one of them.

It‘s the acknowledgment he craves, the confirmation that the knowledge he seeks is needed, even wanted; a place in his own profession, much like those of his relatives. That muchs he admits to his family when he stands in the front door of their house, travel bag in one hand and his horse‘s reigns in the other.

He can see that they don‘t believe in his cause, either. The notion is too outrageous for these poor narrow-minded fools, and he doesn‘t blame them. The study of fay is prohibited for a good reason, and the chances of no return are greater than a return eternally scarred. Any other outcome is negligible, and he pointedly doesn‘t mention it.

But they don‘t stop him. They know about the risks of him leaving, but also about the risks of him staying. Others may be content fading into oblivion, admonished by their mentors and brushed off by their colleagues, or simply changing jobs. But what would it imply about Vio if he were to take the polite dismissal in stride and continue to remind his colleagues of his name, let alone his topic of research?

To tame a fay, study its workings, present it to the public and reap the rewards; that is the silver lining Vio sees before him. Has it been done before? Not according to trustworthy records. That will only afford him and his field the prestige they need and, once he’s succeeded, deserve.

He finishes preparations, waves goodbye and mounts the horse. As much as he doubts his chances along either everyone watching his departure, his permission to undertake this venture has already cost him the last bit of favor with the king, even if swayed by the princess.

He leaves without turning to see his family once.

#lunavagans #four swords #vio link #writing #i honestly thought id try my hand at smut before fluffy slow burn #but here we are #at least its a break from the angst i usually write #and some practice in pacing because damn i need it #but i think im VERY good at whatever this is. pretentious slow third person?#also ive been wanting to write some vio whos at the fucking brink #just at his fucking limits of civility #so that is what this is gonna be #at least in some points #id imagine at this point in the story? the very beginning?#hes one minor setback away from chewing on his clothes in tears #but the intro demanded a sort of impersonal overview #so you dont get wet cat vio yet

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watatsumiis · 2 years ago

Note

On a previous post, you said that Arlecchino was "lowkey a pervert". Pretty please may I request headcanons on Arlecchino being a perv to her S/O?

You most certainly may !! :3c thanks for the request !!

Headcanons below the cut,

Content: Gender neutral reader (referred to as 'you'), pre-established romantic relationship, some flirtatious/downright suggestive themes. All of this is in the context of a pre-established relationship where this behaviour has been deemed okay by both parties.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT IN ANY WAY, SHAPE OR FORM

Arlecchino is very smug, and not much phases her (except maybe some genuine soft fluffy statements and such, so keep that in mind!). Most of the time she's just deadpan, stone cold and perfectly composed.

She's such a tease, just about every time you stand up or walk by her she'll make a comment on how your ass looks nice (maybe give it a playful swat if she's feeling a little rowdy). Even if she doesn't say anything, you can just feel her staring with that devilish little smirk on her lips.

She loves to pull you into her lap with little to no warning, just wrapping her arms around you and tugging you in close as she noses into your neck.

Nothing excites her more than being able to claim 'ownership' of you in public. If given the opportunity, she'll drag you into her lap at the dinner table or coax you into sitting right up against her at any given opportunity, flaunting you in front of the other Fatui members like a designer accessory. Failing that, she always gifts you clothes and accessories that she knows you'll wear (and that she knows people will recognise that she bought them for you).

She also adores teasing you by whispering raunchy things to you and watching you squirm, or giving you sly looks as she licks her lips and smirks. She's also fond of grabbing your thighs, or taking your hand in hers and guiding it to sit on her thigh (squish squish!) and watching your embarrassed reaction

She's downright clingy at times, standing behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist (or chest) as she nuzzles her face into you.

If given the opportunity, she'll leave lipstick marks all over you for everyone to see. She has a special shade that she wears just so it'll show up obviously on your skin tone.

Despite her own clinginess and possessiveness, she'll always tease you the moment you show any signs of neediness yourself, tutting her tongue at you and putting on a voice that borders on infantilising simply because she loves to tease you.

Please don't repost, steal, copy or otherwise plagarise my writing! This includes posting translations to other sites.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!!

#asks #i hope this was what you were after anon !!#mdni #minors dni #this was fun to write - though its a little out of the scope of what i usually write on this blog kjsfgkgdf #i love arlecchino shes so... grrgh #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #my writing #genshin headcanons #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino smut #genshin arlecchino #seriously if any minors or blogs with no ages interact with this post its a straight up block genuinely

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sylvia-plaths-fig-pie · 3 months ago

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I may have writers block rn but I can assure you that miss 'y/n' reader girlie will never 'giggle' she will be teheing for no-one in my fics. My great sense of second hand embarrassment can not handle it. The word actually triggers my fight or flight for some reason.

"You giggled" NO TF I DID NOT

I shall tehe for no one. I may bark, beg, get on my knees, but giggle... GIGGLE? I draw the line.

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waywardsalt · 5 months ago

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While Ganondorf is busy as king of the Gerudo and Linebeck is often out at sea, they hardly manage to find time to spend together- but with the right timing and allowances, find time for a bit of desert exploration.

ganonbeck fic complete!!

here's a new link to chapter 1, and chapter 2 is finally up as well.

FanFiction.net version: X

#take 2 new post bc the og got eaten and its finished finally #ganonbeck #ganondorf #linebeck #my writing #fanfiction #loz #legend of zelda #salty talks #ooooh boy. just another link to ch. 1 bc. uh. its been a year so recap also eeehh considering that the first post is eaten yknow #the ao3 version is m bc. it fits more with the new stuff. but in ff.net its still teen bc in ff.net m is usually just straight up smut #im not versed in how ppl post ao3 links and also i dont really care but this is a little nicer than the og one #a liiiiittle self-concious abt this hot minute since i last posted anything or posted a chapter link so idk lmk if smth is fucked #im gonna play stardew valley to cool off for a bit #oh yeah uhhhh. more lots of dialogue also final bite scene #imo it drags a little in some places but i do like how this turned out

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cloudd-nyne · 7 months ago

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#having a creative rut feeling #gonna rant #im basically a giant baby and i don't handle angst very well #and i constantly worry that im just. idk mentally weak or a deeply uninteresting person bc of it.#every big fantasy artist i see is usually very into making sad or angsty pieces and like i wish i was like that #like i fall into this mental hole very very often that im just holding myself back with how many subjects i dont write or draw #but also like when i DO write dark subjects it doesn't make me feel any better??#i dont like feeling sad or angry bc once i am its extremely hard to get back out of it.#and thats scary for me.#but also i want to make art that means something instead of my nonestop slew of smut and feelgood content.#i genuinely feel so trapped by my own emotions and its sp frustrating.#i keep getting told how good for you it is to get the negative feelings out but it never helps when i do it #i just feel. worse? i dont feel good.#i kinda wanna delete the one cloud post bc it just doesn't feel good.#ugh #idk i want to have good intelligent things to say and thoughtful art to make #and everything i make feels soft and cheesey and lame.#not that i find those things lame #but just that it feels like im stuck in baby brain.#when i was a teen i would write horror stories!!! i still love horror!!!#but if i make someone suffer in fic now it feels me with this awful awful overwhelming sense of dread and guilt and i end up so upset #im frustrated at me bc this is such a fucking weird sensitivity to have. im tried of telling myself its okay #bc i WANT to feel mentally free enough to create shit that isnt just uwu soft.#i don't think im making sense but like.#you know #I've literally been bullied out of fandom spaces for only making soft content #multiple times.#so idk maybe this is a learned sense of shame #but i feel like a big over sensitive baby and like I'd be able to do so much more if i wasn't #vent ish

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starlightiing · 5 months ago

Note

Wip please :))

Send 'wip please' and I will send a short snippet of something I'm working on.

@abovecalamity

TW: Sexual content.

Pierre wants to know what Esteban’s heartbeat sounds like when he cums.

“Since you asked nicely,” Pierre breathes, leaning over to press a feather-soft kiss to Esteban’s parted lips - a kiss Esteban greedily returns, albeit sloppy and imprecise. “But open your eyes and keep them on me. I want to see you.”

#you get the sloppy sloppy sloppy #i've been working on this fic for weeks and i only have 1600 words #it's hard for me to write my own kink and i don't usually ever write smut so its coming along #but tbh #'pierre wants to know what esteban's heartbeat sounds like when he cums'#is a ufkckfkk fucking banger of a line imo #nsft #tw: nsft

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denimpera · 1 year ago

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hi. so. swissdew huh.

beta'd by the lovely @cirrus-ghoulette and @alas--pringles. thank you both <3

2.1k of frottage n fuckin

Swiss is in the process of wiping off what's left of the black smudge around his mouth when he hears the knob to the door turn, open, and promptly smack into the wall before being slammed shut. He knows who it is without even having to look up from his wipes. He grins.

“Y’okay there, spitfire?” He goads.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Swiss, embarrassingly, lets out the most imperceptible gasp when he's wrenched back by the shoulder and cruelly shoved back onto the couch in the dressing room. He gives the same sly grin up at Dew nonetheless, chuckling at Dew as he pushes Swiss back so he has enough room to straddle one of Swiss’ thighs, small hands either side of his thigh to keep himself balanced. He glares up at Swiss as he sets a slow rolling pace with his hips. He hasn't even taken his helmet off.

“You think you're so fucking funny?” Dew breathes, gasps, shifts a little further onto the couch, knee dangerously close to Swiss’ balls.

“My, Dew, I've no idea what you're talking about.” Swiss chances, settling his hands on Dew's thighs, before doubling down and sliding them up to his hips in a loose grip when he's not batted away or snarled at, lifting and pushing the thigh Dew's perched on on the next roll of his hips, providing the little guy some friction.

He's rewarded a breathy tease of a moan, followed by a hiss as he tightens his hold on Dew's hips and pulls him along his thigh, getting one solid grind in before Dew knocks his hands away, leaning back slightly to finally rip off his helmet and balaclava, grumbling in frustration at the laces on the back until he throws it to the ground and lets his hair down.

Swiss takes a moment to admire him, his skin flushed peach with sweat, damp hair cascading down his shoulders, little chest heaving rabbit quick with his shallow breaths. Swiss sneaks a hand up to push a strand of hair behind Dew's ear.

Who quickly slaps his hand away.

“Don't fucking do that,” Dew growls at him, “Not tonight, not after that.”

Swiss pouts, “After what?”

Dew deadpans.

Until, of course, he snakes a hand between them to cup Swiss over his pants, half hard, taking as much of Swiss in his hand as he can and squeezing, groping, before he starts jacking him through the material.

Swiss groans, head tipping back to fall on the back of the couch, nails digging into the sides of Dew's thighs. Dew drops his head to Swiss’ shoulder, biting harshly through his shirt, pulling back a moment later to glare at Swiss’ stupid pleasure stricken face.

He lets out a gut punched sound as Dew speeds his hand up on Swiss’ cock before taking his hand away.

“That ring a bell?” Swiss nods stupidly, hands squeezing and releasing over and over at Dew's sides. Kneading him. “Uh huh,”

“Good, because that's all you're getting.”

Swiss doesn't even get the time to protest before Dew's back to rolling his hips, holding Swiss’ thigh down with his hands so he stays still. So he can go at his own pace, seek his own friction. So he can use him.

He lets out a broken little whine when he gets a good pace going, raising himself up a little as he gets to the top of Swiss’ thigh, bearing down and dragging his cock closer to his knee on the down-roll. Swiss is still kneading at his sides, grateful for the point of contact that Dew hasn't shoved away yet, and he wants nothing more than to pull and push Dew's little hips how he wants, bounce him on his thigh, get him real fucked up.

Dew seems to be doing that just fine on his own, though. He looks pained, brows pinched together, mouth pulled into a tight frown where he's breathing out clipped grunts and pants between his teeth. He's clenching his jaw, hair bouncing around his shoulders as he rides Swiss’ thigh. He's sweating, even more than he was, there's glistening spots on the hook of his jaw and his cupid's bow that Swiss wants to clean away with his tongue.

Dew digs his nails into Swiss’ thigh and grinds hard, slow. Dragging his hard little cock along the top of Swiss’ thigh where there's a small spot of pre that's soaked through Dew's pants, he always gets so wet. He lets out the sweetest whine, brows upturned, mouth open wide. Satanas.

“Yeah, that feel good, baby?” Swiss moans, squeezing his hands at Dew's waist, taking the moment to lift his thigh, pulling Dew across it, feels the head of his dick catch on his pants, wincing in sympathy.

He's so caught up in watching the patch of pre spread across the front of Dew's pants that he doesn't notice Dew glaring down at him, chest heaving, sneering at him. “It did.” Dew digs his nails into the back of Swiss’ hands, then, waiting until Swiss is forced to let go from pain alone, all but throwing Swiss’ hands away from him. “Then some useless fuck interrupted,”

The way Dew talks down to him does things to him, makes his cock twitch in his pants, sweat pricking at the back of his neck.

Dew waits until he's sure Swiss won't try to get handsy again to start the snaps of his hips back up, desperate little humps while he squeezes his eyes shut. Swiss lets him go for a few minutes, hissing and cooing at particularly rough thrusts of Dew's hips, there's a wet line of pre seeping into Swiss’ pants where Dew's carving away. That does it.

“Dew, baby,” Swiss looks up at his face, hopeful, frowning when he sees Dew's expression unchanged, eyes still closed, if anything- he's frowning a little more.

“Baby, querida, take it out, wanna see-” Swiss cuts himself off with a moan as Dew's hips stutter, thighs squeezing around Swiss’, spasming.

“Wanna see you get my fuckin’ pants all messy, baby,” Swiss looks back up at Dew the moment he opens his eyes, bleary and lidded, letting out a pained groan. He tosses his head back, arches his back, panting up at the ceiling, hips still moving in small little jerks.

Swiss thinks he's going to ignore him until Dew scrambles to stand, getting up quickly and stumbling a little, nearly falling backwards when his boot gets caught on Swiss’. He fumbles with his belt, nails catching under the clip until it's free. Dew shoves his pants down to his thighs and Swiss drinks him in. He's not wearing underwear. Of course he's not. Milky thighs and ruddy little dick on full display in the dim yellow light.

Swiss waits until Dew's stepped closer, fully intending to straddle Swiss’ thigh again, to knock his foot out from under him- sending him careening to the side before Swiss catches him by the waist, turning him around and bringing him down into his lap. He wraps an arm around Dew's chest, pinning his arms to his sides while Dew writhes, calling Swiss every name under the sun.

He's hissing out "get the fuck off of me-” as he squirms, pushing his weight back into Swiss, trying to wiggle free. It only serves to give Swiss the leverage to pull Dew back and down. Dragging Dew's barely there ass across the front of his capris, where he's fattened up under the material. He groans low in his throat, repeating the action until he's steadily grinding up into Dew's ass, a mirror of his antics on stage, until Dew's head falls back on his shoulder, his body goes slack and he exhales a moan.

“There you go,” Swiss coos, “That's a good girl, yeah?” He purrs into Dew's ear, licking up the lobe.

“Swiss-” Dew arches his back, keening deep in his throat before his brain seems to catch up with him, “you fucker,”

Dew sways hard to the right, managing to wriggle one of his arms free from Swiss’ hold, grabbing Swiss’ hand where it's resting on his hip, and drags it up to wrap around his little stiffy.

“finish what you fuckin’ started.”

Swiss growls, burying his face in Dew's neck, squeezing the comfortable handful that is Dew's dick. He drops his hand to cup Dew's balls for a moment before squeezing and sliding up from base to tip, polishing the head and spreading the beading pre back down his shaft to slick the glide. He huffs into Dew's neck, breathing in Dew's cinnamon-citrus scent.

Dew keens above him, turning his face into Swiss’ neck, breathing out wet little puffs of air against his cheek, sporadically rutting up into Swiss’ fist, his thumb sliding over the head on every upward thrust of his hips. Swiss still grinding up into his ass as Dew writhes around in his lap until he lets out a moan that makes Dew scoff.

“Don't you dare fuckin’ cum, you asshole.” he pants, holding Swiss’ wrist still with one of his hands so that he can fuck his fist at his own pace, his other hand coming up behind him to thread into Swiss’ hair, tugging hard. “you can't fuckin' do anything right-”

Swiss mewls, nosing under Dew's jaw to hide how red his face must be- and, of course, Dew notices, laughing cruelly.

“don't tell me you fuckin’ liked that,” he bites out, speeding up just a little. He scoffs again at Swiss’ lack of denial. “you're fucking pathetic.” Swiss nearly cums on the spot; groaning deep in his chest, arm dropping from Dew's chest to wrap a hand around his bony hip, dragging him hard across the front of Swiss’ pants, nails biting into his skin. Dew moans, high and breathy, and Swiss knows he's close.

He doubles down, puts his all into jerking Dew off, tightening his fist at the base and twisting his wrist at the tip, drinking in the choked, punched out whines as Dew tries to squeeze his thighs together, fingers shaking around Swiss’ wrist where he's still holding him in a loose grip. His other hand pulls harder at Swiss’ hair, drawing his own occasional whines as he pants into Dew's neck, sweating head to toe.

Dew suddenly lets out a short burst of “uhn, ah, ah,”, wriggling around in Swiss’ lap like he can't decide if he wants to be closer or get away from Swiss working him over.

He stutters out a stupid, mumbled “Swiss, gunna cum, fuck-” as he heaves, the back of his head digging painfully into Swiss’ shoulder. As payback, or maybe just to help him along, he drops his mouth to bite at Dew's shoulder through his shirt, almost exactly where he bit on stage. Dew cries out, a raspy shout followed by him sharply arching his back, holding his breath while he cums hard into the slick hole of Swiss’ fist, shivering and pulsing hotly in his palm as his cum dribbles over Swiss’ fingers to pool onto the couch and floor below them.

He sags into Swiss as he whines through the aftershocks, thighs jumping and hand coiling around his wrist in a vice when Swiss dares one final tug of his spent cock before he lets Dew go.

He kisses Dew's shoulder, leaving a path of sloppy kisses up his neck to his jaw, mouthing just under his ear as Dew catches his breath. Dew sighs, rolling his neck off of Swiss’ shoulder, cringing at his sweat sticky hair and how it clings to the back of his neck.

And, because Swiss has never been good at saving his own ass, he brings his cum covered fingers up to Dew's mouth.

Who, of course, slaps his hand away so hard he winces.

“Never know when to stop, do you?” Dew's voice is husky, raspy, and appropriately annoyed. Swiss hums his apology.

Dew stands, then, stepping around the drying cum on the carpet, pulling his capris back up, fastening the belt. He picks his helmet off of the floor, tucking it under his arm as he shakes out his hair, trying to at least look a little presentable. He makes a show of looking around to see if he's forgotten anything, humming and walking over to the door of the dressing room when he's decided that, no, he's got everything, hand pausing on the doorknob when Swiss speaks. “what about me?”

“What about you?” he turns to look at Swiss, thoroughly annoyed.

“Y’gonna leave me here?” Swiss gestures to the obvious bulge at the front of his pants.

“Take care of yourself.” and with that, Dew opens the door and slips out a lot quieter than he had entered.

Swiss sighs, deciding to palm himself through his pants before he undoes the buckle to his belt, pulling himself out- and, because he can't help himself, sticks his still cum coated fingers in his own mouth.

#swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #swiss/dew #the band ghost fanfiction #hi genesis #i dont write smut so if its evident just ignore it and be really nice to me #i am just a girl #fun fact this was titled 'i fucking hate swiss' in all three of my drafts #not doing my usual layout because its 6am and i have been up 23 hours. im lazy. spare me.#still dont know how to fucking tag 👍#fic #denim writes

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