#dinna's work

[elllisaaa]

HOW DO I MOVE ON FROM THIS JUNGSU ???

LONG STORY SHORT

─ ⋆ dinna’s holiday special 2024 ⋆༄

✭ event is 18+ only

pairing: non-idol!jungsu x fem!reader

genre: smut w/ a sprinkle of plot wc: 8.5k

summary: when christmas comes around you know your emotions will be all over the place, because the one thing your parents look forward to the most, is inviting their best friends whose son kim jungsu is the guy you try to not think about unless you want to make your standards even higher, and your chances to find a boyfriend soon - lower. one sleepless night turns into an opportunity to look back on some shared memories, but to also tell each other things both of you believed will remain unsaid...

contains: childhood friends au, friends to lovers trope, soft dom!jungsu, sprinkle of fluff, protected sex, lots of kissing, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, pet names, size kink, size training, praise kink, oral sex (f!rec)

[ event masterlist | general masterlist ]

“Do you think he’s still single?”

“Probably not.”

“Hmmm...” Your friend on the other line goes silent for a second. “I don’t see any pictures of him with a girl so far.”

“Are you lurking on his Instagram account right now???”

“I’m not lurking,” she calmly explains herself as you continue pacing around the room. Waiting. “I’m getting familiar with the guy that’s about to spend a night in your house. See if there’s anything suspicious that we should know about.”

“Jungsu is the most harmless guy I know.”

“I know you grew up together, but you haven’t talked about him a lot. I’m curious.”

You pick up a noise from outside and you peek through the window only to see the familiar car of Jungsu’s parents parking in front of your house.

“Shit, he’s here!” Your voice comes out barely audible.

It’s like you had to see it with your eyes to believe it - to believe that he’s really going to be in front of you just like before. Till now it has been just a possibility that may or may not happen which is ridiculous of you to think that way, because you always spend the Christmas holidays together.

There’s no Christmas without Kim Jungsu.

You tell your friend you’re gonna text her when you can and she giggles through one sly “have fun!” before hanging up.

You inhale a deep breath to control your heart rate that already quickens before you even hear the doorbell ring.

It feels just like last year or even slightly more intense than last winter judging by how much you’re overthinking the moment he’s going to walk through the front door.

There’s an echo inside your head; Why? Why? Why? But your brain cannot ponder the question right at this point of time. Not when you’re this giddy with excitement to see one of your closest friends again, but also nervous to face your first love - though unrequited it still turned you into the biggest hopeless romantic. You wouldn’t be the person you are right now without it.

You and Jungsu grew up together after all; you’ve shared so many things - from toys and lunch boxes to living on the same street. Even after you entered high school and started hanging out in two separate friend groups you continued walking to school every morning together only to wait for each other at the bus stop and return home together too. It was your tradition; a habit that your evolving interests and social lives couldn’t break.

Until you started college here, and he - three hours away - and you started drifting apart, texting each other only on special occasions or if provoked by an Instagram post, and ending birthday calls with you should visit me sometime, but neither of you have done it yet.

Maybe if his parents didn’t move to a different distanced neighbourhood as soon as the first school year started you would’ve stayed more in touch now, because he would’ve been able to stop by your door for an hour every time he visits during semester breaks.

Maybe…

You’re about to run upstairs so it doesn’t look like you’ve been waiting for his arrival when your mom calls out for you to come back and stop being rude.

You keep your distance in the hallway with heart racing, breath hitched in your throat and eyes inspecting the scene in front of you. Your mom welcomes the guests warmly one by one and you do the same while helping out by taking the Christmas presents inside.

Jungsu walks in last, with a big backpack hanging from his broad shoulders and a navy blue beanie on his head. The hallway turns extra smaller now that he’s inside too, trying to make his way without pushing anyone to the ground.

As he patiently waits for his parents to take off their shoes and head to the living room so he can move around freely, he keeps staring at the floor, too flustered by your mother’s compliments on how handsome he’s become to look up. Once she’s had enough of admiring him and steps back, his eyes shift curiously in search to look for you.

They easily spot you standing speechless in the corner, and although you take a second to react, his eyes crinkle into a smile on the instant.

You notice the soft upturn of the corners of his mouth, then the flush caused by the cold air on his cheeks and nose which you’ve always been fond of. Next, you feel his puffer jacket is freezing, because you shudder after he comes to embrace you into a hug.

That’s when the world around you finally stills.

“Your hair!” You gasp as you take a proper look at him after he removes the beanie.

“Hi to you too.” Jungsu chuckles softly.

He blinks at you few times with surprise as he takes a second to comprehend your astonished reaction; to acknowledge the small changes in your appearance. They’re something minor, but surely they are there or he wouldn’t be feeling the need to stop what he’s doing and stare, questioning what exactly feels different.

“You’ve never had such short hair before,” you note, hiding hands in the pockets of your jeans to suppress the urge to run fingers through what seems like a fresh haircut.

“Should I take this as a compliment or…”

“I mean, I just saw that you pretty much still suck at taking compliments so,” you shrug shoulders meanwhile Jungsu presses lips at the sight of your sarcastic face, because he cannot deny that observation of yours, “but I do like it.”

“You look good too.”

Your stomach makes a somersault and you look away, but seconds before you do, your face earns a glow that Jungsu does not miss out on noticing.

You thought that after such a jolly evening you’re going to fall asleep the moment you get into your bed, but turns out the lingering exciment keeps you awake and energised for longer.

It’s almost two in the morning when you go downstairs and make out some noise coming from the living room. Lights flicker in the darkness as you step in to discover that it’s not all coming from the decorated Christmas tree, it’s also Jungsu’s laptop. It’s resting on the coffee table with something playing in low volume as he’s occupying the entire couch by laying comfortably on his side.

You’re about to tiptoe when you see him shooting a curious glance over his shoulder the moment you close the door.

“Why are you awake?” He asks; his voice is not drowsy at all.

“I can’t fall asleep and got thirsty.”

Jungsu’s attention leaves the screen, suddenly too compelled by the appearance of your silhouette in front of him.

He reminds himself that you’re one of his best friends as he realises the beauty of your legs illuminated from the glowing desktop screen; they force his eyes to follow every small movement of your hips and to travel up your figure, noticing more parts of you for the very first time. You’re one of his best friends, but last year you weren’t wearing such little shorts… so exposing…

He needs to stop before it gets obvious and awkward.

“You?” You’re still standing up, taking another sip of water before placing the cup on the table.

“Same here.” Jungsu murmurs and sighs. He sits up then lifts his arms to stretch.

His plain white shirt rides up his body exposing a sliver of his lower abdomen. Your eyes fixate right upon it, staring at the waistband of his sweats that’s resting loosely on his waist too.

The cold water does not do anything to stop the heat from enveloping your body. Maybe it’s perhaps the reason you take longer to direct your shameless stare somewhere else; now there’s also a dangerous train of thoughts settling in your mind as you capture the intimate view.

“Severance?” You step forward to take a peek at what he’s watching in order to stop yourself while you still got time. “You got taste.”

“Have you seen it?” Jungsu raises brows as you sit down next to him.

“Yeah, it’s a pretty good mindfuck, isn’t it?”

Your question is followed by an unexpected notification from your phone that buzzes in your hand.

What ends up pleasantly surprising you is not the person who’s texting you, but the particular way in which Jungsu shows interest in them.

“Who’s thinking about you at this hour?”

Still to this day, he always listens to you share what you’re up to with genuine interest, and you listen to him do the same too, but with slightly different emotions you can bet. These few hours of alone time you get during the holidays are the moments when you learn new things about him as well, things that you probably wouldn’t have known otherwise, and as silly as it may sounds… sometimes those moments make you feel melancholic.

You’re happy that he found the place where he belongs, but you also miss him.

“Uhm, a friend of a friend…” You mumble, putting your phone away. “He texts me once in a while.”

“Do you like him?” Jungsu asks despite noticing the casual way you ignored the message.

“Not like that.” You suppress a chuckle. “He’s funny and nice to chat with, but that’s all.”

“So you like someone else?”

You stare at his familiar side profile as he continues to pay attention to the episode at the same time.

As if he feels your gaze lingering on his skin, Jungsu looks in your direction.

You swiftly switch your expression from astounded to laid back and unbothered by these straightforward questions which you were definitely not prepared for.

“Why are you the only one asking questions?”

“I don’t know,” Jungsu turns his gaze away from you again, letting the corners of his lips to slide up discreetly, “if there’s anything you want to ask me, go ahead.”

You hesitate for a moment. There are multiple things you’d like to know the answers of, but what if you don’t ask correctly and he gets a wrong impression?

Unsure if it’s the fact he’s not facing you or if it’s because it’s past midnight, your heart feels calm, allowing you to just go for it.

“Are you seeing or talking to someone right now?” You carefully focus on him as you don’t want to miss out on his next expression.

He barely makes one though.

“Nope,” he replies, keeping his eyes on the scene as he adds: “but there’s a girl I find pretty cute, I think.”

After you remain silent for a short moment, only releasing a quiet oh of surprise, Jungsu guides his vision to you and keeps it there.

“So you like funny guys, but humour and communicative skills is not everything.” His figure droops down a bit, letting him rest his head back comfortably against the couch. “What else are you looking for in a guy?”

“Well,” you sigh as if mentally you’re recalling an entire detailed list of qualities which makes the boy snicker. “I want him to be a gentleman. Trustworthy and kind. I need to know I can tell him anything and I want to be the only girl he thinks about.” You give him one wary look just in case. It’s clear he’s heeding your words that only speed up as you go. “I also like when they take care of their bodies… I like broad shoulders and nice arms. Pretty lips too.”

“Mmm,” Jungsu nods while letting all of that sink in, “well, they can’t work for pretty lips at the gym, you know?”

“I know, I just added that in.” A grin appears on your face as you lean against the back of the couch with one shoulder, but soon after it disappears. “My friends always tell me I need to lower my standards, do you think that’s true?”

“I don’t really think you have high standards to begin with.” Jungsu examines your expression carefully since your question doesn’t come out light heartedly like what you previously said. He’s aware you’re referring to something more serious that must be bothering you. “That’s exactly how a guy should treat you, if he doesn’t then you need to cut him off.”

You smile as a sign of appreciation, feeling your heart beating with joy too.

“We’ve had a similar conversation before, do you remember?”

“We have?”

Jungsu’s face scrunches a bit as he goes down memory lane, but you already have the exact moment replaying in your head as if it was yesterday. Severance is now forgotten, but still going in low volume.

“Yeah, after we graduated.” The images of the two of you in his room warm your heart as you cast your mind back to that sunny afternoon. “We were at your house and you were bragging about the new camera your parents had just bought you to get you excited for college.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Just a litttle bit.” You quickly dismiss his denial and Jungsu laughs without saying anything more so you can continue. “We were imagining how our first boyfriend and girlfriend would be like. We were visualising their appearance, wondering how and where we would meet them and all.”

You know Jungsu begins to recall the event when you see him cover his face with both hands. His muffled groan of embarrassment amuses you a lot; Why is he being flustered all of a sudden?

“Yeah, yeah, we did…” He mumbles in his palms before leaning back again. He seems to be lost in thought for a moment. “My first girlfriend wasn’t anything like that by the way.”

“My first boyfriend was anything but that,” you declare right after him as you burst laughing at the same time.

You grin at each other, feeling a sense of comfort from the mutual understanding.

The silence you find yourselves in again isn’t perplexing as it gives the two of you a chance to dive into more shared memories that are suddenly scattered in your minds. You reflect on differents parts of them without paying attention to the gaps that eventually start to multiply as the months pass by.

“We were so curious then,” Jungsu speaks up first; his voice drops lower as he muses, “about relationships, drinking, sex…”

Undeniably, the last word catches you off guard. You don’t comment right away, because you start to ponder about the same with cheeks tinged with blush.

“We couldn’t wait to see what all those experiences are going to feel like.”

“Yeah, that’s how we were.” You agree, keeping your fingers busy with the hem of your shorts.

“Y/N…”

As you were staring down at your lap your eyes snap back at the sound of your name and you meet Jungsu’s gaze; it seems to shine more softly now, or that’s just the nostalgia in your chest.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he says with voice laced in something bittersweet, “and I really think you deserve more than just a funny guy.”

You feel something around you shift and you’re unsure of how to handle it just yet. It’s like whatever was building up in the air during your conversation is now swirling, making you giddy and unsteady.

You thank him and you acknowledge how weak your voice is once it leaves your mouth, but you can’t do anything about it.

Neither of you breaks eye contact - is it because neither of you is bold enough to do it first or because neither of you wants to put an end to it in the first place? You can’t tell.

Jungsu’s eyes make the first movement in order to peek at your parted lips and just as quickly return to your fluttering lashes.

“I mean it,” he whispers, sliding his hand your way.

The tips of his fingers are centimeters away from your knee, resting on the cushion; one small move and you will feel their touch, but they remain still and courteous.

As your body is tempted to get closer, your heart starts to thump faster - not to warn you or stop you from the decision you’re about to make, but to remind you of how much exactly you want it.

You want him. It’s a scary thought, but perhaps, every love seems scary when it arises from friendship.

It all happens in a matter of two seconds - you cut the distance, Jungsu’s gentle hand moves on your thigh and you kiss him.

If a moment ago you were feeling dazed then now as your mouths get in contact for the first time ever you’re feeling absolutely under the influence. You’re feeling intoxicated by the softness of his lips and how they already move like they’ve got yours memorised; as if he was using that moment of silence to study them perfectly.

In a way his lips feel… familiar, as ridiculous it may sound, but the spark they bring you is strong nevertheless. Until you back away in panick from your impulsive actions.

Your heart is threatening to burst out.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry—“

“Come here,” Jungsu says under his breath and pulls you over his lap.

What follows after you straddle him doesn’t come close to the mellow kiss from earlier.

It looks and feels times more intense as Jungsu’s fingers grip on your waist beneath the fabric of your loose shirt. The way they explore anywhere they can reach, causing every spot they glide against to heat up, provokes the rush to rise in your tummy.

Your tongues roll against one another after you allow him to separate your lips; the delightful dance turns into a french kiss that you would’ve never imagine having with him one day.

Jungsu’s lips slowly detach, sighing as he finds out you’re not wearing any bra underneath. His hands cautiously retrieve to your hips, making you wonder what could be going through his head right now.

Is his mind calm? Or is it jittery like his heart that’s racing… you can feel it as you keep your hands on his chest.

“Should we…”

“Keep going?” Jungsu finishes your question after glancing at you. “Only if that’s what you want.”

You stop biting your lip and chuckle silently at his words. You thought what you want is pretty obvious and you find his wariness sweet.

“I want it.” You confess; slowly, so each letter sinks in his brain as you lean forward only to provoke him to kiss you deeply once more.

That’s when you feel a sudden movement beneath you - a quick twitch right between your legs that has you smiling coyly against his flushed lips.

“I don’t have any condoms in me.” He realises quietly while staying close to your mouth, swiping your bottom lip gently with his thumb. It’s like he cannot get enough of their plushness, their texture and taste.

When you lock eyes it becomes clear you’re thinking of the same thing.

“We can still go upstairs though.” The same finger that was tracing the shape of your lips now presses against your shorts, rubbing tenderly up and down exactly where you feel the irresistible heat looming from. The pleasure is barely there and yet it still makes you hold your breath. “I can make you feel nice in different ways... Unless you prefer to wait.”

He’s not saying this to tease you or to try to be flirtatious; you can see it in the genuine way he looks at you. Jungsu has never been like the rest.

Truthfully, like is a weak choice of word for what you feel about him.

You shake head right before you roll your hips against him, eager to feel more. You don’t want to wait; you can’t.

“Let’s go.”

Jungsu reaches behind you and shuts his laptop.

You can’t tell how many minutes you spend in your bed just kissing, - laying beneath him like this with legs intertwined and lips going numb against each other has turned time into something nonexistent. And his scent, familiar and so comforting, has put you in some sort of trance that you don’t want to escape from.

What has Jungsu leaving your mouth is his hand that ghosts over one of your breasts; the subtle feeling of your nipple poking through the fabric tempts him into giving it a light squeeze. Your figure starts reacting excitedly as he continues to caress it under the blouse, occasionally circling your nipple with his thumb.

Those cute responses against his hovering body make him move lower so he can scatter kisses on other places too. He wants to taste as much of you as possible.

Blissful sighs slip from your tongue as Jungsu’s puffy lips press against many different parts of your skin; his hands touch wherever his mouth can’t reach. The subtle way the tip of his tongue starts teasing the area between your bellybutton and the hem of your shorts causes your spine to bend from pleasant shockwaves.

His hands remain on your hips, but they seem to hesitate to continue when your eyes meet.

“I want to know you’re not going to regret this.”

You move one hand to his face that’s contorted with a mixture of emotions - one you’re perfectly familiar with the meaning of.

“I’m not, I promise.” You utter as your fingers finally get lost in his hair. “Can you say the same?”

“My only regret is that I didn’t do this sooner,” he admits, breathing out a soft sigh afterwards that almost turns into a flustered chuckle. “And,” he takes a pause to what seems like an attempt to gather his thoughts, “that I didn’t reach out as much as I wanted to.”

“That’s on both of us, Jungsu.”

The decorative lights effortlessly shine onto his face, warm white light that makes it look even softer as he lets himself rest in your palm.

Regret is the last thing you will feel, even if this is just a one time thing.

Soon enough, his hands proceed. You’re out of your sleeping shorts and Jungsu’s fingers are doing that same motion from earlier, but now it feels even better as they move up and down against your underwear.

Suddenly they stop to apply some pressure in one particular spot - where he noticed a dark wet patch forming.

“Mmm—“ you bite your lip, provoking his gaze to shift back to your face. “You can remove one piece of clothing too.”

He mumbles that’s fair and grins at your smile of approval as he throws his shirt away. You didn’t expect to be so effected by the view, but you are; seeing his fit chest bare makes your heart quicken and now the way his arm flexes as he moves your panties to the side to touch you without any barriers is suddenly even more noticeable than before.

“So wet,” he mutters as if he’s in awe at the sight below, “you’re gorgeous.”

The compliment warms up your cheeks as you moan desperately at the first real touch.

He slides his fingers through your folds so slow and gently that you’re amazed how a delicate touch like that can have such a strong impact everywhere on your body.

From your entrance up to your clit, Jungsu swipes the tips of his two fingers and stares at the string of arousal that sticks to them once he pulls away.

His spare hand tugs your panties more while the other returns to where you’re dripping.

“Is it okay like this?” He asks in a whisper, watching your mouth open for a silent moan; his middle finger enters you with ease and for a second your breathing stops. “Yeah, feels nice?”

You nod delighted before resting your head back on the pillow, cherishing the warmth that’s building and electrifying your core.

You can’t see it, but Jungsu’s eyes sparkle as you transition into a new blissful state with each gliding through your tight walls.

“I love it,” you breathe out excitedly, not able to ignore the sounds that come with each move of his hand; especially once he adds another finger so he can make you feel even better by thrusting deeper into you. “Fuck—“

Everything doubles now that it feels more full, more fast paced and intense. His fingers feel perfect for this - firm and just the right subtle amount of rough. They move with dominance that they aren't trying to force, but still can be felt in his touch.

“You can cum for me, sweetheart,” he says under his breath while maintaining the quick motions targeting the desired angle. “Don’t hold back, baby.”

Every time you mewl his name your quiet voice shakes as he chases your peak.

The trembling chanting makes Jungsu’s skin run hot - at the back of his neck and the sides of his face that’s a little bit scrunched from concentration, from not allowing himself to slow down. It also teases his erection with how arousing it sounds, making it twitch inside his sweatpants.

Not long after, his free hand moves to your clit to stimulate you even further by circling around, and the knot of pressure inside you snaps.

The squelching noise, so blissful to Jungsu’s ears, fades in the small room as he eases up with his arched fingers, letting only your heavy breathing to fill the silence now.

Your eyes are glossy when they find his in the warm fairylights, but you’re not exactly sure what to say. As if he knew, Jungsu drops down, prepping himself on his hands and kissess you to let you know it’s okay.

Your hands go to his still hips, but yours are far from calm, and for the first time he fails to swallow a groan.

“Y/N—“ he exhales softly into your lips, unconsciously responding by grinding between your open legs. It doesn’t help that your hands are encouraging him to thrust again and again. “Fuck, feels so good…”

“I want to touch you,” you mutter not even having a specific idea in mind - you want to touch him everywhere all at once if it’s possible. Your fingers sneak beneath the waistband of his sweats, pleading by scratching his skin. It’s all you can do with how much you love the sensation from his length rubbing against you through the fabric, making more rush of arousal course through your veins. “Jungsu, please…”

“I’m gonna make you feel amazing first chance I get.” He speaks in the crook of your neck before backing off.

Your glowing doll eyes speak for themselves.

The enthralling effects of his words that dripped with honey-like sweetness despite the dirty context only grow after you earn the view you pleaded for.

Jungsu tugs down the clothing, stained with your arousal at the crotch area, and then you see it - flushed from the friction and oozing from desire as it bounces up. The size alone has your eyes almost shutting down from all the images of you taking it inch by inch flooding your mind.

If you focus enough, you can feel the strech.

“What are you thinking about?” Jungsu’s lips turn slightly as he takes a hold of his base, lowering his tip to your folds. The way he drags it down your slick lets you know that he’s aware of exactly what’s troubling your head.

“It will feel so nice,” you whine as his warm tip presses against your leaky entrance, but not enough to enter.

Jungsu repeats the same thing to hear the squelching sound one more time. It’s begging him to push deeper, but he resists and forces his length up your folds instead, smearing the glistening essence.

“You’re gonna take me so well, sweetheart, I’m sure of it.” His gaze observes the effortless way your slippery lips have his length gliding up and down. As his fingers stay around the base his aroused tip rubs your clit with each next move which has you humming erotically. “Mm— It will fit perfectly inside you…”

You bite your lip as your mind creates vivid images, one after another, based on Jungsu’s provocative words. His sensual tone of voice and his cock moving along your slickness work effectively in harmony, forming new undeniable rush in your core.

Two light slaps by the head of his dick force your eyes open and you see Jungsu letting a string of saliva fall into his palm to make his strokes smoother.

You know he smacked your clit with his tip without meaning anything by it, simply to hear the lewd sound and feel a small thrill. However, the excitement you get from that quick act is much bigger, and after Jungsu speeds up his fist up and down, you sit up, placing fingers on your sweet spot to continue the arousal he awakened.

Your breaths blend together as you sit in front of each other… along with the little airy sounds slipping into the air that’s growing thicker from the intimate scene.

In the meantime, your eyes drop to his busy hand to study the way it moves. You want to see how he likes to be touched; what pace does he enjoy, how much is his fist tightening. Though the up and down motions are quickening, you notice his fingers still seem gentle on his erection like he’s not doubling the pressure only the rhythm.

Soaking up this sight and the way his toned stomach reacts to the sensation turns you on immensely, but then your chin gets guided up and your attention is dragged away.

Jungsu doesn’t comment on your obvious and shameless staring. The only thing he does is take in your delighted twitching features and get off on their beauty.

“Keep going,” you encourage him quietly as your free hand cautiously reaches out to cup his balls.

While maintaining the eye contact and the steady circles on your clit, you let your fingers explore gently for a moment, then you make them squeeze which breaks Jungsu’s breathing.

The bold act of yours takes him aback, but the delight that shoots through him makes the surprise last only a second.

You squeeze again simultaneously mewling from your own bubbling emotions, and earn the first clear moan from him. It sounds exhilarating, but too short. Perhaps, you could’ve gotten more out of him if his lips didn’t gravitate towards yours for an open mouthed kiss.

This makes Jungsu let go of his cock and cup your face as the moment intensifies.

You, on the other hand, use the opportunity to finally touch him properly.

Gliding your fingertips from his ballsack up to his base, Jungsu feels the lingering effects from the delicate caressing right away. Once you wrap your fingers around him and apply some pressure his lips stop moving - he cannot help, but squeeze his eyes tightly and invite a hitched breath into your mouth as a wave of euphoria passes through his veins.

Encouraged by his breathing that’s catching up and his head resting back, the nerves you were holding in your stomach completely disappear, and your hand continues twirling - more freely and with more ease and confidence.

He seems fully relaxed and succumbed to the pleasure you bring him, and you can’t stop gushing over how grateful you are to be in this position.

You catch his hands form two fists around the bedsheets as you do your best to keep up the nice rhythm that continues to have more and more effects on him.

“Can you cum for me like this?”

Jungsu opens his eyes; he can’t tell whether your innocent tone or the way you rub yourself as he kneels between your legs is what brings him dizziness.

He wets his lips before swallowing.

“Yeah, but… I want to make you feel good one more time first.” He wants to emphasise his wish by making his voice firm, but it drips from his tongue breathless, almost fading away completely at the last word.

The sudden delay in the next twirling of your wrist has his jaw slacking; especially when you stop to squeeze at the top, flicking your thumb over his slit.

The hand between your own thighs slows down as you speak too.

“It’s okay, I’m very close anyways,” you give him a coy smile as he stares at you weakly with hooded eyes. “You can just relax now and keep looking at me…” you resume the stimulation on your clit and sigh at the feeling before finishing your thought: “and cum in my hand whenever you’re ready.”

Jungsu’s stomach flips at the sound of your sudden but incredibly soft domineer; it continues to swirl from pleasure as you bring back the familiar pace around his girth. His gaze is fixated upon your hands - one dancing up and down his slick member, the other toying with your sensitive clit, slowly so the one around his cock can go faster, but the mellow touching only captivates him more.

“Fuck, Y/N—“ Jungsu chokes just when the arousal that’s burning low in your tummy rises like a wild fire. “You’re doing perfect.”

You whine right after him as the knot pulses harder with each rub, making it a challenge for you to keep stroking him smoothly as you used to.

Your technique is turning sloppy and unsteady; most likely causing the rush in his body to slow down just when it leaps up.

“Fuck,” Jungsu cusses again, this time in a thinner pitch, an alluring breathy sound that indicates he’s getting closer just like you. “Like that, yeah—” As his head drops low in sudden silence, his one hand goes over your weakened fist. In order to guide it in the speed that’s going to push him over the edge he needs to put in some strength so he squeezes around your fingers.

Both of you are now speechless, looking narrowly at the view of your laps and enhancing the mutual pleasure. The growing excitement turns into ragged short breaths that crawl out of your throats as you do everything you can in order to keep your composure.

“Doing so good for me…” Jungsu’s hand is sweating on top of yours, gripping and forcing the lewd motions of your fist top to bottom until it reaches the end of the rush and slows down steadily.

Your own sensational high hits you like a wave as you watch his thick arousal seep out of him. The first rope shoots onto his tense stomach while the rest trickles down your fingers that still hold onto his member. It twiches once or twice in your palm before he removes his stained hand away and you do the same.

“Thank you,” Jungsu’s eyes flicker at you as the corners of his mouth twitch. He’s bemused by what just happened and you are too; you can only chuckle along. “You’re a good girl.”

The knuckles of his clean hand run down your cheek, but you feel your skin getting tingly everywhere.

──── ❆ ────

The next morning, 26th of December is the day Jungsu and his parents are leaving because they’re visiting close relatives before his winter break ends. You’re both drinking tea and scrolling through social media, chatting about mutual friends and who’s up to what.

There’s definitely something different in the way you speak to each other; it would be weird if there’s not. You’re not sure what to think of it still, because you haven’t had the chance to talk about it yet, but you try not to let yourself fall into heavy overthinking mode and ruin your last hours together.

Hesitating if you should open a loose discussion about last night now that you’ve been sitting in silence for two minutes, you look up from your phone just to see your mother walking in.

You catch a glimpse of the pie recipe she always makes this time of the year in her hand, but there’s slight worry on her face. Turns out, she forgot to buy two of the ingredients she needs and now she’s stressed out about it.

You always have this pie before Jungsu and his parents leave.

“I’ll go get them.” Jungsu offers already standing on his feet.

“Are you sure? It’s snowing outside.” Your mom says, glancing through the window. “I can just make something else.”

“That’s not an issue, I got my drivers license this summer.” He takes his parent’s keys, and looks over at you with a discreet grin. “Wanna join me?”

Jungsu insists on holding the bag with the ingredients you bought for your mother’s recipe despite being the one not wearing gloves. You forgot to put on yours before you leave the house and he asked you to take his pair or apparently you weren’t leaving the car.

Now, thanks to him your hands are warm, and you enjoy the light snowfall even more as you walk side by side.

“Hey, uhm” Jungsu speaks up, trying to keep his tone casual, “I was wondering something this morning.”

You turn to him as neither of you hurries to reach the parking lot just yet.

He shoots you a quick glance then goes back to staring at the deserted street in front of you.

“I’m going to be celebrating New Year’s with my roommate and some other friends from college. It’s gonna be fun, and I was wondering if you don’t have plans already of course…” He can feel your gaze on his cold face, but he can’t make himself respond to it. Not when he hasn’t gotten a reply to his offer. When was the last time he was feeling nervous because of you? Was there ever a time like that till now? “I can come pick you up and we can celebrate together. My roommate won’t mind it if I steal his car for a few hours.”

“What’s his name?” You look down at the white pavement with a smile unable to leave your face.

“Who’s— Oh!” Jungsu finally takes a peek in your direction, a bit flustered. “Seungmin. He’s a really nice guy, just a year younger than me.”

“Are you sure he’s really not going to mind it if you take his car twice? My classes start on the same day as yours and I’ll need a ride home.”

“Positive.” You both quit walking to look at each other. “I already asked.”

“Last night you mentioned there’s a girl you find cute.” Your head leans to the side as you inspect the boy’s expressions. His eyes look down at his feet once he registers your words; there’s definitely amusement inside them though. “Is she going to be there?”

“I don’t know,” Jungsu’s grin widens at the fact you remember this. The next moment, he glances back up at you. “I’m waiting for her to give me an answer right now.”

Few seconds pass as you try to collect yourself. He meant you.

“So are you going to be there?” He gives you an eyebrow raise. “With me?”

You’re aware your glowing smile is already enough of an answer, but you still nod at him and say:

“Yes, I’ll be there with you.”

You were too immersed into your conversation to notice earlier that Jungsu has been driving in a totally different direction.

“Wait, where are we?” You ask as the car stops in front of a nice house covered in snow just like the rest on the street.

You’ve never seen it before.

“I thought we could use some privacy.” He turns to you, not yet sure how you’d react to his idea. When he catches your lips turning into a coy, but definitely approving expression, he feels a wave of relief. “Just for like an hour though or it will get suspicious.”

Jungsu gives you a quick tour around their new family home and after you’re inside his bedroom things escalate surprisingly quickly; or not so surprisingly considering what went down last night between you.

The high still lingers in both of your bodies as you crash on his bed.

He pins your hands above your head and your cold noses touch as your kiss deepens before you even have time to really comprehend this is really about to happen.

You are going to have sex with him.

You’re a moment away from feeling him in the most personal, intimate way possible as you watch him rip off the package of the condom with his teeth.

“When did you get these?” You wonder, because you didn’t see him grabbing condoms from anywhere while you were out shopping.

“I have my ways,” he grins, lowering his gaze at his crotch while standing on his feet next to the bed.

You’re sat naked at the centre and follow his hands - how one of them makes few strokes around his erection before the other wraps it up with protection. Then, a moment later how they spread your legs as if he’s scared not to break you.

He pulls you down slightly and adjusts himself between your thighs, breathing against your heat.

The butterflies in your tummy go wild with anticipation and excitement at the attractive view.

His presence there alone doubles the warmth into your core before his lips have even gotten in contact with your pussy. Once they do, your hips cannot resist the urge to move in the rhythm of his lapping tongue; wanting to match its sensual motions and earn more from the heady sensation it brings you.

Your fingers go into Jungsu’s hair the moment the arousal enhances to the point it makes your hands search for something to clench at. As your moans elevate as well, your hips keep moving against his gentle devouring mouth until his hands press you down so he can invite himself further into you with no interruptions.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan towards the ceiling, thrilled by the way he twirls the tip of his tongue around your clit before sucking on it some more. “Jungsu, it feels amazing…”

Once he detaches, he pushes his index finger through your entrance, then his middle one and tenderly glides them back and forth to really make sure you’re aroused enough.

“You taste so sweet,” he comments, staring down at your intimate lips, lustrous from his mouth and the essence his fingertips bring out of you only to spread it up to your clit.

He gives you one last open mouthed kiss which makes you whimper desperately.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” He looks you in the eyes after he hovers over you; holding himself up on one hand so the other can push the first inch of his member through your walls.

You let out a shaky sound and your nails sink into his shoulders. You breathe in, trying to relax as you haven’t been intimate with anyone in a while. It feels a bit painful because of that and his big size struggling to enter, but at the same time it also feels soul-stirring - because it’s him you are giving yourself to.

“You’ll need to loosen up some more for me, baby.” He whispers softly in your lips and you can almost taste the tension. “Can you do that for me?” The head of his cock retrieves before bumping into your small entrance again.

You nod while grasping onto his frame, and as you exhale with eyes closed shut, a gradual warm pain shoots through you as Jungsu forces a bit more of his length.

“I can stop anytime,” he reminds you while placing fingers onto your clit to comfort you with slow circles. The small portion of his cock your gummy walls are gripping on barely moves any further as he wants to give you time to adjust.

“No,” you utter without opening your eyes, “don’t, please.” Your focus is all on the big stinging stretch and you sound distracted and woozy.

Your walls, though hesitantly, start to accept some of his thickness as he cautiously rocks back and forth. At the same time, little by little you get familiar with how staggering it is to be so full.

“You already feel so good.” Jungsu’s low voice tickles your neck as he’s fully immersed in the exact same sensation as you. The tightness stimulates him more and more during the small pushes back and forth; they make you whimper every time and the sounds have such strong impact on his arousal that he starts to worry not to insert himself all the way by accident and hurt you.

All of a sudden, he pulls out causing you to gasp softly at the sudden emptiness.

Your glossy gaze focuses on him questionably until you realise he’s spreading your legs wider to lick you up again.

Keeping them open and still, he forces his tongue into your entrance and humms quietly every time it throbs, provoked by his movements. The pleasure he gains from your addictive taste has him squeezing your thighs and working his mouth in a way that makes the buzzing delight speedily prevail over the former ache.

“Jungsu, I’m…” you breathe out overwhelmed by the thorough gliding against your folds. “I’m close—“

He went back to eating you out with the intention to ease out the uncomfortable soreness he caused you, but here you are… a short moment before an intense climax washes over you as he presses against your legs so they don’t close around his head.

Your convulsing under his tongue has his arms holding onto you tightly, and as you calm down from the high, Jungsu’s lips suck your stimulated clit once or twice causing you to twitch even more.

“Good girl.” A gentle whisper caresses the skin of your inner thigh before he moves on his knees. “Now you’ll take me easier, right baby?”

This time instead of doing small bumps at your entrance Jungsu slides half of his length through a single slow push that has you hissing at the warmth it incites - a mix between pleasures with just a hint of the stinging ache from earlier.

You’ve never felt anything like it before.

Analysing your beautifully twitching face Jungsu decides to pick up a quicker pace at once. His heart rate along with his adrenaline rush increases by the new sound of your clear moans of rapture - all of them a reaction to the way he fills you up.

“Better, baby?” His eyes alternate between your open mouth and the appealing view where your bodies connect; where you’re hypnotising him by looking so stuffed and small and keeping him in trance with how you squelch for him. “So pretty…”

“Yeah,” you answer as your lips tremble from the rising pleasure, “so much better, k-keep going.”

“I knew you’d take me well,” Jungsu says as his own voice starts to drop softly. His hooded eyes blink weakly till they shut entirely as he inserts himself fully into you. His sticky fingers leave his base and sink into your thigh the moment you let out a high pitched whine at the way his tip hits your deepest spot. “Shit— you feel so good around me, baby.”

As you feel mazed and disoriented by the rush, your hand goes over your mouth after another mewl escapes your throat. It sounds too loud, but your self-control slips away the more Jungsu speeds up.

“You don’t need to keep quiet here, sweetheart.” The sudden action makes the boy chuckle as he holds your thighs loosely over his arms. The sheer look of desperation that’s contorting your face tempts him to drop closer. As he does so, he notices your fingers hesitate to uncover your lips completely. “Don’t, baby,” he grunts and even the intense rush can’t stop his voice from sounding sensual and comforting. “I want to hear the pretty sounds you make for me.”

His body weight now presses comfortably against you and you’re almost sure the heat it radiates while his hips slow down for a moment, makes your arousal grow, throb and trickle down on the bedsheets.

“So,” you breathe out in bliss as your fingers move away with trembling motions, “s-so deep…” Your mouth remains open as your head lolls back. You’re amazed by how it’s possible for him to stimulate such deep points inside you; once that have been unfamiliar to you until now.

“Yeah?” Jungsu’s lips move at your ear, producing intense breaths like a tune. “And you’re so tight, pretty girl… you feel perfect for me.”

A lazy kiss on the side of your jawline makes you flutter inside as your hands glide around his broad shoulders. The muscles tense under your touch as eventually Jungsu strengthens the pace again.

Your vision gradually starts to blur, but you still notice the sweat pooling on his forehead; how his teeth keep his lip tucked harshly as the thrusting of his hips turns into a steady slamming that fills the bedroom with lewd noises.

“Jungsu, I—“ your nails dig into his warm skin; surely promising marks, but you can’t stop them from dragging against his back as he hits exactly where it feels best. “Right there, yea—“

“There?” Jungsu’s eyes open, and they open at the perfect timing - to see how yours roll back from pleasure. A sight that immediately provokes him to keep doing what he’s doing, but better.

“Fuck! Yes—“ Your moans keep slipping in the rhythm of his strong thrusts strictly fixated upon the desired angle. “Harder, ple—“

Your pleading is suddenly cut off by your mind shutting down and your throat choking on your own breath.

It wasn’t necessary for you to beg, because Jungsu already knew more was what you needed. Each sound of yours was signaling to him that you’re getting closer, that you need just a little bit more for the rush to come and bring you sweet relief. Even your desperate grasping at his shoulders was already speaking enough to him.

“You’re even prettier when you cum around me, princess.” He murmurs out of breath with lips gently pecking your warm forehead. They cannot wait for your panting to slow down though and they move to kiss you insistently until you inevitably back away to breathe.

It happens with a small delay, because it takes you some time to compose yourself from the passionate kiss, but the corner of your mouth slides up shyly as a reaction to his words; to the nickname attached at the end.

After spending a moment inside your welcoming warmth Jungsu eventually pulls out with a sigh and your hands let go of him.

Once he removes the condom and starts jerking off your attention fixates upon the most compelling facial expression you’ve seen. His flushed face is painted by relish, but also by desperation especially when the climax gains complete control over him and his head drops low shifting your focus.

Warm and thick, his arousal lands all over your bare tummy, making you gasp quietly.

When he returns with a towel to clean you up before laying down beside you, you come to realise that it almost feels like summer from the snuggly atmosphere around the two of you; it’s perfectly formed by the mutual aftermath that you experience at the same time as you gaze into each other’s eyes, and nicely balanced by the soft glow of sunlight that’s attempting fo filter through the curtains.

And all of this as Jungsu’s fingertips draw soft patterns on your back.

Till this current moment your entire skin was on fire. Now, the feeling of those strong flames has faded, leaving a single lingering warmth that’s not completely new to you simply because it’s been slowly growing throughout the years of your friendship… warmth that feels reasuring.

It feels like love.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

♡ taglist: @gclhn ; @gaonashi ; @xhfics

[operationdeadbolt]

birthday girl cherry here with a wee request about my favorite scot <33 i NEED a little something about birthday sex with soap. preferably nasty, feral fucking 🫣 totally up to you, but i would love it if the piece included face licking, squirting, and elements of a breeding kink :3

love you and your writing!! <333

cw: 18+, minors dni, fem!reader, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, squirting, dirty talk, spit, face licking, breeding kink, creampie, porn with plot, johnny is very horny (this is a warning in itself)

summary: birthday sex and johnny's a freak

word count: 2.8k

a/n: happy birthday sweet girl <3 love you so much

“I really don’t kno’ why ye dressed up so nicely anyways.”

“Huh?” You nearly choke on the bite of food in your mouth, staring at Johnny incredulously from across the table. “Of course I’d dress up, it’s my birthday dinner.”

“Ah know it is. You look like an angel. And now I’ll have tae tear that pretty little dress off of ye so I can ruin ye.” Johnny sighs, completely nonchalant as your mouth drops open at the bluntness of his words. 

“Johnny. We’re in public.” you hiss, feeling your face heat up as he flashes that classic MacTavish grin at you. You’re very much in public at a very expensive restaurant that he insisted on taking you to, but that doesn’t deter him from running his mouth. In fact, he might even see it as encouraging.

“And?” he counters, beaming brighter when your glare turns more into a warning. “Dinnae act like it’s a mystery on what we’re gonna do tonight.”

“You’re awful, Johnny.” you mutter, downing the last of your water as you lean back in your chair. “Can’t spend one evening without you thinking with the wrong head.”

He hums contently, pleased at the way he riled you up. That was his plan all along. It’s working. “Never did tell me what ye wanted for yer birthday.” He’s quick to switch the subject, knowing it’ll get you even more flustered.

“What I want is for you to have some manners.” The waiter swings by the table to drop off the bill and you thank whoever is watching out for you that Johnny knows enough to keep his mouth closed for just a few moments.

“You wound me, sweetheart.” He mockingly clutches his chest, chuckling when you kick him under the table. “Not my fault that looking at ye makes me think such dirty thoughts all the time.” 

He tilts his head, clearly weighing the consequences of whatever he’s going to say next.

“It’s also not my fault you look so gorgeous I cannae help but imagine all the ways I’m gonna fuck ye.”

You swallow roughly as he tosses a few bills onto the table, quickly standing up to wrap his arm around your shoulders and direct you out of the restaurant.

He leans in while you make the walk to his car, nipping at the shell of your ear and making you gasp. “And if you keep looking like that, I’ll simply have to take ye right in the backseat, bonnie.”

You don’t even make it past the living room. You’re lucky you make it past the front door.

Johnny unceremoniously shoves you onto the couch the second both of you step inside your house, hiking your dress over your stomach and gripping the delicate lace of your panties to fully tear it off of you.

“Och, dinnae act like ye aren’t aware I’ve already bought a couple new pairs for ye.” he scoffs when he’s met with your unimpressed glare. “Besides, I think ye look better this way. Don’t need anything covering up what’s mine.”

Any argument you have against that dies the second he grabs onto your thighs, the rough calluses of his fingers digging into your soft skin as he lifts one leg over his shoulder to bury his head right into your pussy. 

“Yer lucky it’s yer birthday,” he huffs, nose bumping against your clit as he practically drools in between your thighs, his saliva mixing with the slickness you can feel is already coating your cunt. “The way you looked back there, if only ye could’ve seen how hard I was. Wanted tae, fuck, wanted tae pull you right into that restroom, bend you over the sink and fuck ye stupid. Only thing stopping me was wanting to be polite on yer special day.”

“You’re an absolute freak, y’know that Johnny?” you laugh breathlessly before it dissolves into a moan, your hand threading through his mohawk as he presses his lips against your clit and latches on, a few simple sucks making your hips jerk involuntarily.

“I can be worse. So much worse.” He has been worse. Will definitely continue to be worse too, but he’s feeling generous today. It’s evident through the way he noisily laps at your cunt, acting like a man starved as he uses his thumbs to spread your folds and flatten his tongue against them.

“Good thing we didnae have cake yet,” he groans against your pussy, his tongue quickly collecting all the slick of your arousal before he lowers it to press inside your entrance, curling it a few times before lifting his head again. “Got the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted in yer pussy right here.”

He stares up at you with those delicate baby blue eyes of his, letting out a moan of his own as your fingers in his hair form a fist and you tug him back up to your clit.  “If only ye could see yourself right now. So beautiful when yer getting yer pussy ate.”

You whimper, grinding against his face as he alternates between suckling and nipping at your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you as you feel yourself rapidly approaching the first orgasm of the night.

“You’re close, aye? Can feel you clenching on my fingers, so fuckin’ greedy.” He leans directly over your clit, opening his mouth as a fat load of spit covers over the swollen bud and his thumb rubs against it to make a sticky mess out of your pussy.  “It’s yer goddamn right to be greedy, especially today. I’m gonna need ye tae cum for me, sweet girl, need to kno’ I’m making ye feel good.”

The filth coming out of his mouth coupled with the way his fingers are thrusting inside of you perfectly are what sends you over the edge, crying out sharply as your fluids drench his face, leaving your thighs trembling against his head as he eagerly uses his tongue to clean up all of your cum left on your pussy.

“Gonna make ye do that again. Makes me lose my fuckin’ mind when you squirt on me like that.” he sighs, leaning back as he wipes the slick glistening on his chin and licks his fingers clean. You immediately prop yourself up to reach for his belt, letting out a low whine when he gently moves your hands away.

“Quit yer fretting, you’ll get my cock. Just not here. Need tae fuck ye proper, cannae do it on a couch. C’mon, love.” Johnny swiftly hooks his arm around your waist to toss you over his shoulder, rolling his eyes and landing a soft smack to your ass when you squirm in his grasp. “Dinnae give me that, I’ll manhandle you any day of the year. Nothing you can do about it.”

You bite back the ‘yes sir’ on the tip of your tongue, not wanting to boost his ego even more as he carries you to your room. “I’m more than capable of walking up some stairs, Johnny.” 

“Won’t be doing any walking once I’m done with ye.” he retorts, kicking open the bedroom door and dropping you onto the bed. “Won’t be doing much of anything if I can help it. If I haven’t fucked ye till yer legs are shaking and yer heads empty then I didnae do my job correctly.”

“Is that a promise?” you ask softly as Johnny moves to unzip your dress, your hands working in tandem to unbutton his shirt, the collar of which is now completely soaked with your juices. 

“It’s a given,” is his short response as he tugs your dress off of you, tossing it to the floor as you finally lose your patience and rip the rest of his buttons open. You let him shrug his shirt off to join your dress on the floor before staring down at the bulge evident in his dress pants.

“Christ, baby,” you mumble, fingers moving swiftly to undo his belt and shove his pants down to his thighs. There’s already a wet patch against his boxers, and you appreciate it as long as you can before you’re pushing them down as well to watch his erection spring up against his stomach. 

His dick is mouthwatering, if you’re being completely honest with yourself. A fat pearl of pre-cum already leaking from his tip, dripping against his abdomen. It must be throbbing, aching at being neglected for so long. 

“I did all that?” you breathe out, wrapping your fingers around the length of his cock to pump up and down slowly. “Just from eating me out?”

“Fuckin’ hell, you do this just from seeing you.” he inhales briskly, staring down at you jerking him off before he softly directs your hand away. “Cannae lie, eating that sweet pussy of yours definitely helped me too.”

He fully tugs down his pants and boxers, kicking them off towards the pile of clothes as he crawls up towards you. 

His mouth is on yours immediately, his middle and ring fingers finding their way back to your pussy and quickly sinking into you. Johnny uses his other hand to guide your head back onto your pillow, allowing his body weight to press you into the mattress as you moan against his mouth. He kisses you sloppily as his lips slot between yours to push his tongue into your mouth and swirl it over yours.

“So pretty, so fuckin’ pretty, baby. My pretty girl.” he croons, his lips trailing down to your neck, practically panting as his tongue laps at your pulse point. “Ye drive me crazy. Every time I fuck ye I’m thinking about when I get to make you cum again. Yer always on my mind, I swear tae you.”

His words being both simultaneously dirty and praising make your head spin, and at first it barely registers that his mouth is moving from your neck.  “Johnny, fuck…” you groan, nose scrunching as he drags his tongue across your cheek and leaves a trail of spit in it’s path. “You’re no better than a dog.”

“Can bark if ye want.” he grunts in response, not giving you any warning before spitting against your lips and smearing it around with the tip of his tongue. “Sorry, baby, need my mouth on you. Look so fuckin’ good under me.”

You’d let him do anything to you if he keeps fucking you like this, even if it’s just his fingers for now, and you have to admit that his tongue feels as good against your face as it does against your pussy. His hand that isn’t currently filling out your cunt moves to your shoulder, pinning you down as he licks all over your face, making your skin coated with his saliva.

Johnny pumps his fingers inside you a few more times, the squelching audible before he slowly pulls them out of you. You whimper at the sudden emptiness before throwing your head back against the pillow at the feeling of his cock grinding against your folds, the sensation making your pussy flutter around nothing. 

“Please… please, Johnny.” you cry out, rocking your hips back and forth desperately in an attempt to get any friction possible.

“Please what, sweetheart?” he murmurs as he grips his cock, tapping the head against your clit and slathering your slick all over it. “Birthday girl still has to use her words.” 

“Please fuck me already.” you whine, your nails digging into his biceps as you spread your legs wider around his hips. “Need you to fuck me, please.”

“Never get tired of hearing that.” He drags his cock against your pussy a few more times to gather up as much wetness as he can before finally pressing himself into you. You feel your cunt stretching around his girth to accommodate him, his tongue and his fingers having prepped you well but never enough for how thick he is.

His thrusts start slow and gentle, but Johnny isn’t a patient man, nor does he feel like holding himself back tonight. He lifts his leg up to reposition himself, before completely pounding his cock into you. It’s almost animalistic the way he loses himself in you, making you cling to him as your thoughts are consumed solely by Johnny and the way he’s making you feel. You breathe heavily, forcing your eyes open as you stare up at him.

Johnny looks as ravished as you feel; mohawk tousled from your fingers running through it and damp from sweat, his pupils blown out you almost can’t see the blue behind them. The thick, rough pads of his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he fucks you without hesitation, pushing himself as deep as he’s able to he watches the way your cunt keeps sucking him back in.

You feel him everywhere, his cock spearing you open while one of his hands moves to grope your breast, rolling your nipple between the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan and he uses the opportunity to spit directly into your mouth, feeling it coat your tongue as you make eye contact while you swallow.

That must’ve set something off in him, because you’re instantly rewarded with him fucking you so perfectly it makes you see stars. “Just like that, Johnny! Right there, right-”

He cuts you off as he grips your hips harder to angle himself deeper, the head of his cock hitting the spongy spot inside of you perfectly. “Yeah, yeah, I kno’. Right there. Acting like I don’t kno’ yer pussy inside an’ out, like I haven’t made this pretty pussy my fuckin’ home.”

He leans down, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Think ye forgot I practically molded yer cunt to my liking, bonnie.” he whispers, his hips smacking against your ass with another thrust as if to prove his point. “Believe me, pretty girl, there’s nothing about you I haven’t memorized yet. And that includes all the ways I get tae make ye cum.” 

His hand moves from your breast to your stomach, gently kneading your skin as he continues to pump into you. “Wanna cum inside ye. Figured out what tae get you as yer gift.” He meets your eyes as he rubs soft circles against your stomach, smirking as he feels you clench down on him. “Yeah? Wanna have my baby? I’ll make you a mama, don’t even have tae ask.”

You don’t have it in you to reply, your mind feeling fuzzy as you feel the pressure build up inside you again. “Johnny, I’m so close, so so close, I can’t…” you pant, your senses nearly overwhelmed from all the pleasure Johnny’s making you feel.

“I kno’, love. It’s a lot, aye? S’okay, you can be good for me and cum.” he coos, his hand going from your stomach to above your pussy, his thumbing working roughly against your clit.

You arch your back against the mattress with a mewl, his cock and his thumb on your clit working together to send you over the edge. He holds you steady as you squirt for the second time, your juices soaking over the dark curls trailing up his stomach and at the base of his cock. 

Johnny fucks you through your orgasm, his own following shortly behind yours. He dips his head to the crook of your neck, sighing out your name as his hips stutter and he finishes inside you, hot ropes of semen coating your pussy as his thrusts slowly slow down. He keeps his cock where it is, allowing his cum to be plugged up in your cunt.

He collapses on top of you, panting and trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. He wraps his arms around your waist, cuddling you tightly as he looks down at you with love in his eyes.

“So good to me. Happy birthday, my girl.” Johnny murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he cradles you against him, your chests rising and falling in unison. “Love you so much. You have a good time tonight?”

“I love you too.” you smile warmly, catching your breath as your lips meet his. “I’m having a great time, Johnny, all thanks to you.” You try to lift yourself up from under him, before feeling his grip against you tighten ever so slightly.

“Where do ye think yer going, bonnie?”

“Don’t you need to take a breather?” you ask quietly, your confusion evident as he shakes his head and guides you back down against the mattress.

“Dinnae think for a second that I’m done with you.” he grunts, pulling his cock out just enough for you to feel his cum run down your thighs and onto the bed sheets before he thrusts into you again.  “I’ll make this a birthday to remember.”

[ask-ethari-anything]

How has Runaan been handling the fact that Rayla is now dating a human?

All of his blades are extremely sharp now.

[spockandawe]

Translation.... is a fantastically complicated, demanding, and difficult task. And it feels like it's sometimes gotta be pretty unrewarding, because no matter what you choose, someone will be mad at you for doing it wrong. And I'm no purist, I skew hard towards preferring a translation to capture vibes (a subjective and squirrelly thing) over a literal one-to-one, I appreciate an artistic use of best judgment even if I ultimately disagree with the decision made. I've got so much respect for translators!

BUT.

That being said.

I feel like especially, especially in the context of something like a dramatic high fantasy novel, tone and register are so important! No modern terminally online transmigrators to muddy the waters! I'll make an exception for something hilarious, and I don't have a highbrow sense of humor, 'absolute unit' still makes me cackle. Something like "yea" (not 'yea, verily,' this is 'yeah,' said often, always without the h) may set my teeth on edge, but I can understand why someone might do that to me. "Tho" is more infuriating, but I can still.... logically understand how we got here.

But why on earth would you interrupt the build to a dramatic, tragic, intense scene by having our main character angrily call a crowd "newbs." I'm no longer in the moment, I'm staring into the middle distance and wondering why not just use the full n00b if it was going to go there. Sure, he's not talking elegantly, I get that. He was raised uneducated, not on 4chan. And the moment last night when I was reading and a character in ancient fantasy china proclaimed "Jeebus," I was filled with such incandescent rage that I immediately knew it was time to put the computer down and go to bed.

Jeebus.

[lvrsfilm]

Lieutenant Simon Riley has a favorite nurse. She's sweet as sugar and polite, stitching up every bloodied soldier with gentle words and touches so light they barely feel the push and pull of the suturing. Appreciative, whether they return the soft conversation or not. He likes the way she floats around the medical wing, the way she smiles softly at everyone, even him. He's sure she knows what he's been doing, but she isn't stopping him, so he assumes she doesn't mind.

Every morning, without fail she gets up and comes into the wing in a different colored pair of scrubs. A new color every day, never the same one twice in a week. She sits at the front desk or at another station somewhere around and sips a can of ginger ale through a straw, pretending she doesn't see Simon's eyes on her while she works.

"Wha's it t'day?" Simon says gruffly as he approaches her, bypassing the other nurses almost completely. "Blackberry," She says softly, looking up at him and displaying the can. He takes a look at her scrubs, and of course, they're a dark purple, matching the can. It suits her, he thinks. Not an obnoxious shade, one that matches her skin tone well. "Good?" He asks her, like he always does. "Not my favorite,' she says as she sets the can back down. He hums lowly in reply as his eyes linger on the fabric of her scrubs, the way the cloth dips over her soft curves.

"You hurt?" She asks him cheekily, "Or just taken an interest in the medical field?" He grunts, pulling his eyes away from her scrubs and meeting her own. "Nae," He says lowly. "Just passing by," he adds, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets to keep from touching her. Or reaching out to smooth out a wrinkle in her clothing, or tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

He doesn't know what else to say, wanting to keep her attention on him. "Suits ya," He ends up saying softly, trying to sound as gruff as possible, but his eyes are trained on hers, his hazel eyes staring into her own irises. "The purple." He grumbles, cursing inwardly because why is he acting like he's never spoken to a pretty bird before?

"Thank you, Lieutenant." She says sweetly, a nice red tinting the apples of her cheeks. Simon shifts his weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to say next. Small talk hasn't ever been his strong suit, but walking away feels wrong, like cutting a thread that’s barely started to weave.

"You sure you're alright?" she asks again, but this time there's something softer in her voice. A note of genuine curiosity, her hands stilling on her keyboard. "You don’t usually linger this long."

He scowls—not at her, but at himself for being so obvious. "Dinnae know I was bein’ timed," he mutters, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets.

She chuckles, the sound low and warm. "You’re not. Just... noticed, is all." Her gaze flicks over him, quick and subtle, like she’s trying to piece him together without openly prying. She's familiar with Simon, knows how private he is. "Busy morning?"

He shrugs. "Same as usual. Training, Paperwork."

Her lips quirk upward in a faint smile, but there’s a shadow of worry behind her eyes. "Sounds like you could use a break."

"Aye," he says gruffly, a hand leaving his pocket to scratch at the base of his balaclava. "Reckon this is it."

Her smile softens at that, and for a moment, neither of them speaks. There’s a weight in the air, something unspoken that presses against his chest, and hers. He wants to say more, to keep her talking, but the words are tangled up in his throat.

"Y’know," she says after a pause, "I think purple might actually suit you too."

His brows furrow softly, squinting at her a bit behind the mask, and for a split second, he wonders if she’s teasing him. But her expression is sincere, her eyes glinting with a quiet kind of amusement.

"Me?" he scoffs, shaking his head. "Don’t reckon that’s in regulation."

She shrugs lightly, leaning against the desk. "Wouldn’t hurt to try. Maybe a mask or something. Just a little color." There’s a playful glint in her eyes now, and he feels the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself.

"Don’t think I’d pull it off," he mutters, though there’s a faint warmth creeping up his neck, hidden by the black fabric.

"I disagree," she says softly, and the weight of her gaze feels heavier than before. He looks at her then, really looks, and finds himself rooted to the spot.

"You always this cheeky with the patients?" he grumbles, trying to mask the fact that she’s gotten under his skin.

"Only the ones who hover around the nurses' station without a good excuse," she quips, her smile widening just a fraction. "But I don’t mind. You’re welcome anytime, Lieutenant."

His heart gives a traitorous thump at her words, but he swallows it down and grunts in reply. "I’ll hold ya to that," he says, his voice rougher than he intends.

As he turns to leave, her voice calls him back again, soft and lilting. "Oh, and Simon?"

He stops dead in his tracks. She’s never used his name before. Slowly, he turns his head to glance at her, his hazel eyes locking onto hers.

"Next time," she says, lifting her can of ginger ale in a mock toast, "you could at least bring one of these to share."

His lips twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. "Aye," he murmurs, his voice low. "I’ll see what I can do."

And as he walks out of the wing, he finds himself already wondering what color she’ll be wearing tomorrow.

[ghouljams]

Ok nobody extrapolate anything about me from this...

The first time you cry in front of the 141:

The first time you cry in front of Ghost it's because you can't fucking take it anymore. All the little things, all the comments you know he didn't mean to hurt, all the conversations you ignored because you didn't want to make him feel like the bad guy, it all comes to a head. You don't even mean it to happen, and you feel like shooting yourself on the spot as soon as the tears start flowing. It feels manipulative. It feels disingenuous. You feel like a piece of shit having him awkwardly bundle you in his arms as you break down sobbing over a topic that normally would mean nothing to you. And it all comes out. All the worries and slights you ignored, all the fears and doubts, all the things that made you question if you could ever even start to bring up with him. Like throwing up, once it starts you can't stop it.

He looks like you've hit him when you finally escape his bear hug. You barely get the chance to take it in before you're thrust back into sobbing hysterics, blubbering out apologies, how you feel like you're manipulating him, how you're a bad partner, how you're sure he's going to realize he doesn't want you and leave. You barely hear the rough "Jesus Christ" over your own hiccuping.

Ghost shuffles the two of you over to grab you a t-shirt to blow your nose in while you're sniffling and wiping at your eyes. You feel pathetic having him hold the fabric to your face and telling you to blow.

"Didn't know ya made this much snot love," he jokes.

"You're dot funny," you whine, nose still clogged with wattery mucus as your tears finally start calming down.

"I know," he grumps.

"You're mad at me," you sniffle.

"I'm not," he sounds mad, "mad at myself. Shoulda seen ya keepin' things to yourself, I'm glad ya finally told me." His scarred mouth screws to one side. "Just gotta work on makin' sure we don't get to this point again."

-

The first time you cry in front of Soap it's because you're so fucking mad at him. He's arguing with you over nothing, the same way he always does when he's in a bad mood. Finding little things that dig at you and twisting just enough to make it not his fault when you snap. Back and forth with your barbs until you got to bed angry.

You can feel the tears burning at your waterline before they spill and you know your hot cheeks don't bode any better. You're not yelling but you almost wish you were, at least of you were yelling at each other it might make you feel better about the sudden waterworks. You hate when this happens. Too big an emotion in the body, it has to come out somewhere, you suppose this is just the quickest avenue. The way Soap's face drops from anger to concern pisses you off though.

"Hen, are ya-"

"I'm so fucking mad right now," you assure him, "don't look at me, don't even acknowledge them."

"Ah dinnae ken," His voice is getting softer, it only makes you more upset, "Oh my bonnie, ahm sorry ah didnae think this would hurt ya so bad."

"Fuck off," you try to push past him to lock yourself in the bathroom and he catches your arm to pull you against him. "Fuck off!" You shriek, pushing at him.

"No," he holds you a little tighter, "my mam would 'ave my heid hearin' ah let ya walk away from me like this, yer stayin' 'ere."

"I will fucking skin you Mactavish," you struggle harder.

"Aye anno, now shut up an' quit yer kickin'."

You do neither of those things.

-

The first time Gaz sees you cry it's because no one's ever seen you before. Even in your best relationships, your closest friendships, no one sees you like Gaz. No one picks you up from work with flowers and takes you by your favorite bakery just so you can have a slice of cake when you watch your comfort show. You're not even through the title music, Gaz sorting through your takeout options after he'd gotten you a "fancy plate" and a small fork to eat with, when you break down in sobs. He's on you immediately, hushing you as he gathers you into his arms. He's so attentive it hurts.

"It's OK baby," he hums, "don't have to talk about it, you just let it out."

God even that gets you crying. You don't have to get your words right or find a way to explain what you're feeling, you can just feel it. You try to think of a way to put it into words but it all lines up wrong, sounds too juvenile, doesn't make any sense even to you. There's no need to say anything though, Gaz just sits there with you, holds you through it as you wet his shoulder with your tears.

You don't even know why you're crying by the end of it, you just kept coming up with other reasons to cry. Jesus you don't think you ever got over your last grandparent dying, or losing that one friend, that's something to unpack later. You feel drained. Literally dehydrated drained. Gaz's shirt is soaked, but he doesn't day anything when you pull back.

He cups your cheek at wipes at the wet stains on your cheek with his thumb, eyes searching yours before he gives you a tight smile.

"Why don't you go take a hot shower, yeah?" He offers, you give him a watery nod, he smiles and pats your knee. "Alright, off you go. I'll be in, in a second."

The second time you cry in front of Gaz it's before he's got you pinned to the shower wall.

-

The first time Price sees you cry it's because you're tired. You're tired of giving everything to this relationship and seeing him leave right when things seem to be falling into place. His phone buzzes in the middle of the night and you don't stop the downpour when he grumbles out a swear and turns on the light. You glare at the ceiling and let the tears flow. It hurts. Tight in your chest. This feeling like you'll never be enough, like he'll always have something more important than you, it kills you. So why can't you leave him?

Are the good times really good enough to make up for the bad?

It makes him stop what he was doing when he sees the resolute grimace and the flow of tears over your cheeks. You shudder in a breath when he sits on the side of the bed. You refuse to look at him.

How could he do this to you?

"Sweetheart," he starts, his voice low, gentling, "I'm sorry."

"You're not." You correct him, "Otherwise you wouldn't keep doing it."

"You want me to choose between you and the world, you know what I'll say." He always sounds so sharp, ready to guilt you into giving up what he wants.

"I'm asking you to choose between me and paperwork," you bite back.

"You don't know-"

"You get phone calls when you're being deployed." You remind him, "You get reminders when papers are due." You turn to glare at him. The look on his face twists like a knife in your chest. You're dead on the money, and it's killing him. "So can this really not wait until the morning, are you really that eager to be rid of me?"

"I'm sorry," he tries again, toeing off his shoes, "you're right, I hadn't noticed." You turn over as he climbs under the duvet again. You fold your legs up as his arm drapes over you hip and he curls around you. His lips touch your shoulder, a silent plea for forgiveness. "Let me make it up to you, no more running into red tape I promise."

You don't bother agreeing to empty promises, but the next day he's had the paperwork sent from the base. The same the next day. Price always told you working from home didn't suit him. Waking you up with a cuppa on the other hand and walking you to the station does though.

He makes good on his promise, he doesn't run off until the next call comes in.

[auspicioustidings]

I just know that Ghost and Soap come to the small, crappy cinema you work in every weekend, pick a movie they know will be dead and then fuck in the second row from the back. You have the seat numbers bloody memorised.

This falling apart cinema doesn't have fancy tech to keep an eye on things, it's all manual screen checks by the staff. Every 30 minutes you are supposed to pop your head in and check everything is OK. Your eyes find them like a heat seeking missile everytime. It's not worth interrupting these two huge, scary looking guys. You work on minimum fucking wage. So as long as they are the only two in the screen you just leave them to it and hope that they'll not leave a mess (they don't actually, you try not to wonder where exactly all the, uh, fluids wind up).

You're hauling a bin bag through to the garbage compactor room when someone squeezes your arse.

"Naw that we dinnae love our wee voyeur, but it's been months now hen and I'm starting tae feel a little insulted you're naw joining in."

[quarterlifekitty]

ok but what happens if/when Simon’s down for the count after a rough op, and it’s more than a little while until his worried nonverbal gf is allowed to see him. does soap step up? make sure she’s taken care of until Simon recovers? reassure her than Simon will be ok in the end? i MUST know, desperate to find out how this affects their dynamic

(Note: I’m gonna start referring to reader as selectively mute because I was made aware that this is a more accurate description!)

So, to be quite clear, I think she can take care of herself. She’s a whole adult. Simon knows this, and Soap does too. But the real question is what bullshit is Soap’s hindbrain telling him?

It’s that her mate’s down for the count and as a fellow pack member, he’s responsible for stepping up to provide. But he’s trying his best not to crowd!! He knows his LT would kick his ass for that. So he’s dropping by once a day, telling her exactly where he’ll be and when in case she needs him, and says to call him any time, for any reason at all.

She’s just nodding and humming affirmatively occasionally, and she leads him around the house. Eventually he figures out that she’s bringing him stuff to bring for Simon— because Soap is in his unit, he can visit, but civilians like her can’t (live in my magical reality where this is how the military works for a sec). He thinks she looks like a pretty bird— gathering up the best of the nesting things for her man.

He’ll ask if she wants him to stick around for a while, and she doesn’t say anything, but he can see her grind her teeth a bit. And it’s like another little pin inside the lock of his mind clicks into place.

“Know what, bonnie? Dinnae feel like goin’ out today, actually. Errands sound like a fuckin’ ballache right now. Gonna stick around if y’dinnae mind.”

He orders dinner for the two of them— there are some menus stuck on the fridge that have some highlights and underlines in them. There’s a little asterisk and a note in Ghost’s chicken scratch. Safe foods (haha what if I said she had food anxiety too. Then what heehee). So he just orders a few things— he’s a trash can, more than happy to eat whatever she doesn’t want. Puts on a movie he remembers— some ghibli-type thing that was relaxing enough to put her to sleep when they watched it during movie night.

The true mark of progression in their relationship? He keeps blabbing, sure, but he doesn’t try to placate her with words. He just keeps the little activities coming so the time can pass without her noticing.

And Simon doesn’t even have to ask to know that Soap’s been looking after you. He smells like you. That brown sugar milk tea kinda smell.

“How’s my birdie? You been keepin’ her good company, Johnny?”

“You know it only takes her about a day to finish a thousand piece puzzle? Too fuckin’ smart, she is.” Simon chuckles to himself.

“Good man.”

[redladydeath]

New information revealed by the Hazbin Playbill

Charlie went to college

Charlie won multiple musical theater awards in college

Alastor broadcasts every day at noon (or whenever he feels like it)

Angel Dust is a singer

Angel Dust made his first onscreen appearance in one of Valentino’s films (so in or after the 1970s)

Vaggie is trained in sychronized dance

Sir Pentious has made weapons for Carmine Industries and Voxtek

Sir Pentious created the Egg Bois with the help of someone (probably Baxter)

Lucifer performs alongside the other Deadly Sins (“perform” might be metaphorical though)

Carmilla discovered new ways to use Angelic technology to improve Hell’s weaponry

Carmilla is the host of the board of Pentagram City Overlords

Rosie does favors in exchange for people’s souls

Sera works directly under the Speaker of God

Sera is in charge of Heaven’s hierachy and laws

Emily is in charge of ensuring all citizens of Heaven are entertained and comfortable 

Mimzy owns a club called “Ragtime”

Mimzy once appeared in a radio special with Alastor called “Singa for ya Dinna!”

Vox acts in and directs his media projects

Valentino frequently goes on shooting sprees in the Entertainment District

Valentino describes the Entertainment District as ruled by himself, “Velvette, and I guess Vox”

Velvette has over 100 million subscribers

Velvette is the head of development for Love Potion (in collaboration with Valentino)

Velvette can do spells/magic

Saint Peter is the head singer in Heaven’s royal choir and founded the Angelic drama club

Saint Peter can play the harp and French horn

Zestial is the oldest living Overlord in power

Zestial is effectively retired

Zestial helps Carmilla with her business due to their friendship

[elllisaaa]

AND YOU'RE DROPPING THIS MASTERPIECE WITHOUT ANY WARNINGS ??????

baby all mine

pairing: streamer!keeho x fem!reader

genre: smut wc: 1166

cw: sub!reader, fingering, spanking, exhibitionism kink, praise kink

Keeho’s hand loosens up the tie around his neck as he stares at the computer screen. The movement radiates frustration as he pulls and tugs roughly.

“I swear to god…” He leans back in his chair, his right leg is bouncing up and down under the desk - a sign that he’s slowly loosing patience. The bright light of the monitor picks up on every twitch of his sharp facial features, but that only emphasises their attractiveness.

“Stop talking about my girl y’all, that’s not cool. I can see the comments you know?”

His lips form a smile; a forceful one which is quite different than his usual expressions during his streams.

The comments keep piling up.

show her to us bro

i bet she’s hot af

if i were you i wouldn’t be here rn

“Nah, forget about it,” he scoffs, “that’s not happening.”

we saw her ass once let us see the rest

didn’t she show it off on purpose anyways ???

she wants to be seen

… and after that comment he starts noticing it too. You didn’t dislike the attention from the viewers. You keep bringing him snacks and drinks during his streams knowing the camera will catch your swaying hips, your seductive thighs exposed from the loose little shorts. The mic always picks up on your gentle voice, leaving the people want more.

It’s almost like you’re having a secret game with them and he’s the one left out.

“Your viewers really like me.”

Keeho shoots you a quick glance. You’re leaning against his desk, dressed in one of his shirts. He doesn’t need to look at the comments section to know they’re blowing up with questions about you.

He proceeds with the game, but the way you step closer distracts him, and clicking the keyboard becomes more and more difficult.

Your back is now captured from the camera; your bare legs are on display. One quick move and Keeho’s shirt will expose your panties to everyone.

His eyes accidentally look at the comments which make his blood boil.

“They like your ass.” His big hand lands with a smack on your butt cheek.

It feels good - showing people that he can do that while the only thing they can do is jerk off pathetically to the thought of you.

“They want me.” You speak out the second word more firmly and clearly. Emphasising the facts.

You lift one leg and swiftly straddle your boyfriend’s lap. His chair moves backwards a bit as his hands leave the keyboard to get a hold of your hips.

The surprise on his face is apparent, but it quickly melts away after you kiss him. You humm from the pleasant dancing of his lips that leads yours, as his fingertips grip the sides of your body with more eagerness.

You break the moment, then look into his eyes. They’re still gazing at your lips and even your next words can’t shift them away.

“Show them who I belong to.” You place a wet kiss under his earlobe, feeling him get harder under your clothed cunt. Each word you say is a new wave of adrenaline rush that floods his veins. “You owe me, baby.”

His fingers fidget with the shirt, dragging it slowly up your waist to expose more of your skin to the camera; more of the pink lace of your underwear.

“I do,” he breathes out. “I do.”

The number of viewers watching grows bigger with each minute, but only Keeho can see it, because he’s standing next to the gaming chair while you kneel in it, being streched out by his long fingers. He doesn’t need to move them too quickly to prove how wet you are. You’re drenched, and the slow gliding is enough to produce lewd sounds that reach the audience just fine.

“Goddamn it, baby,” he pulls them out, slapping one of your cheeks. Your ass is on full display, showing off his handprints in pink color as his shirt is scrunched up at your waist. “You’re soaking wet for everyone to see.”

He swipes through your puffy folds with one finger to collect from your essence, then sucks on the digit, savouring the sweet taste.

“Looks like my pretty girl likes showing off her pretty pussy, huh?”

You humm in agreement meanwhile Keeho spreads you out nicely with his two big hands, allowing everyone to see you in all your glory. The arousal is glistening, gushing out of you as your desires grow every time he touches you.

You wonder how many people are touching themselves to you right now; do they want to see you cum, and do they wish they could see your boyfriend fill you up?

“All mine.”

He shoves his fingers inside you again, curling them more harshly this time. Your voice cracks in the middle of your moans when he begins to thrust them in a wild possessive speed, causing your arousal to drip down your inner thighs.

“Fuck, fuck, f-fuck, baby… so good—“ you babble uncontrollably with your desperate fragile voice. The slamming of his hand causes your cheeks to jiggle in front of his eyes simultaneously filling the room with skin on skin slapping in addition to the wet noises from your cunt.

At first Keeho thought he wouldn’t be able to listen to you knowing there are hundreds of other people hearing your moans too, but since the moment you opened your legs for him, he hasn’t thought about those people. Your sounds are still just for his ears only.

You’re seconds away from cumming for him.

“Ah, ‘m gonna—“ your jaw falls open for a silent scream that puts an end to your incoherent sentences. It leaves you only whimpering and panting.

The sensation has you barely holding onto the back of the chair. Your thighs shake, your voice too, as you whine from Keeho’s rough fingers pushing against your g-spot with full force till your climax fades down.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty…” Keeho mutters under his breath. His hard cock has been putting pressure on him for a while now, it starts to become unbearable, and it’s showing in his heavy breathing. “The prettiest girl with the most perfect pussy.”

He empties your swollen hole, and you gasp from the feeling. He observes carefully how it clenches from the absence of his hand, how it leaves a string from your juices connected to his fingers that he breaks by licking it off. He groans from pleasure meanwhile your mouth waters at the sight of the tent in his pants.

“Baby, I need you.” Your one arm reaches for Keeho’s crotch, caressing his bulge, but even your palm squeezing his dick doesn’t affect him as your doe eyes glowing with lust and yearning do.

You sense Keeho going to his desk. You stay in one place since you prefer to keep your face private and wait for him to give you a signal.

“The show is over, perverts.”

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

[beloveds-embrace]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Matchmaking Buns

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ in which your bunnies inadvertently lead you into meeting your new neighbors, who are far too endeared by you from the get-go <3

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

The thing is, you absolutely adore your bunnies. Two holland lops, one mini lop, and a flemish giant all together with full freedom of your house and a big garden for them to play in- with a bet overhead to protect them against hawks and whatever else. Hell, they even have a patio in case it rains.

You absolutely adore them. You worked your ass off to have a house like this, and then have enough money and space to give them everything they need. They are the lights of your life.

Simultaneously, they might possibly be your biggest source of headache.

All this space, all these spots and nooks and crannies for them to hide and play in- and their favorite activity still remains having you chase them down the road like the incorrigible brats they are. None of your neighbors are surprised by the sight anymore, often helping you but right now there isn’t anyone around except a group of men that you ignore. They must be the new neighbors.

(God, your embarrassment will know no bound after this.)

“You fucking four bastards! Once I catch you- ugh!” You shout, aiming it at those little monsters that remain living rent-free in your house as you run fast after them. But-

Oh no. Oh noooo. The four men, the new neighbors, turn around at your shout; likely assuming you meant it at them. Only to have your bunnies barrel through and between their legs.

After this, once you get those brats back, you will have to join them in finding a burrow to hide in your garden. That’s the only solution.

God must be smiling down at you, though; God must be satisfied by the regular entertainment you provide, because the men catch the bunnies. All four men catch all your four bunnies. It’s almost hilarious seeing your mini-lop in the hands of the big(gest) dude with the surgical mask. The tiny bastard doesn’t even seem mildly bothered, just nosing around the man’s chin and mask. Your two holland hops are in the hands of a very pretty man- wow, what eyelash serum does he use?- and a man who is wearing a boonie hat. Your flemish giant chills in the hands of the one with the mohawk.

You slow down as you jog towards them, trying to catch your breath. The amusement and confusion on their faces would’ve almost been comical if you weren’t so embarrassed.

“Oh- oh my god, I’m so, so sorry-” You begin, cheeks pink. Fuck, you weren’t even anything that appropriate either; jean shorts and a rather thin top. “I’m sooo sorry, jesus christ. They- they usually don’t bother other people when they do this-“

“They do this often?” Boonie hat man raises an eyebrow, chuckling.

You nod, glaring down at the bunny who just… stares right back at you. Little beast. Evil little beast that enjoys your suffering. “Yeah… they get a certain joy out of my suffering. Once again, I’m so sorry-“

“Easy there, lass,” mohawk man grins at you, as does pretty man. You can’t tell what exoression their fourth might have on his face. Your flemish giant begins cleaning her face, unbothered. “They dinnae hurt noone… though maybe just yer lungs.”

As you gather your breath, still cradling your wayward bunnies, you glance up at the group of men and realize you haven’t even introduced yourself yet. Great. Chasing rabbits down the street and forgetting your manners? You’re on a roll today.

“I’m—uh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m [Name].” You gesture awkwardly toward your bunnies, still snuggled up in their rescuers’ arms. “And these are… my little troublemakers.”

The man with the boonie hat offers you a warm grin, extending his hand. “John Price. Looks like we’re neighbors now, love.”

You take his hand, appreciating the solid, firm shake and give him a smile. “Nice to meet you, John. And thanks again.”

The man with the mask remains silent but inclines his head, giving the tiniest of nods. He’s still holding your mini-lop, who’s completely unbothered, nosing at his mask like it’s a toy. “Simon.” he says in a low, gravelly voice.

His voice sends a tiny shiver down your spine. There’s something about his calm presence, even with your rebellious bunny in his grasp, that feels oddly reassuring. If anything, seeing your bunny si relaxed makes you far more willing to trust him. “Thanks, Simon. I appreciate it.”

The man with the mohawk steps forward, his grin as cheeky as ever. “Johnny MacTavish.” His Scottish accent rolls smoothly, and you can’t help but smile back. “Looks like yer big girl here likes me, huh?” He scratches behind your flemish giant’s ear, who responds by nudging into his hand.

You laugh. “Yeah, she’s usually shy, but I guess you’ve won her over.”

The last man, who had been standing back slightly, steps forward, still gently cradling one of your holland lops in his arms. “Kyle Garrick.” he says softly, his eyes flicking between you and the bunny. “They’re cute little things, aren’t they?”

You nod, heart warming a little. “Yeah, they are. And… a handful.”

For a brief moment, there’s a quiet, comfortable silence. You close your eyes and take in a deep, calming breath, not noticing the way all of them seem oddly focused on you—not in a bad way, but more like they’re genuinely interested.

“How do you take them back then?” John asks at last, breaking the silence. He’s almost absent-mindedly patting your bunny’s head.

“Well, I usually try to coax them with treats,” you say, opening your eyes to glance down at your bunnies. “but it seems like they’ve chosen chaos today, so no treats for them. I’ll just herd them back.” You shoot the bunnies a mock glare, earning a soft chuckle from Price.

“Seems like they’ve got a bit of personality,” Simon comments, his voice low. “Must’ve gotten that from you, yeah?”

You blink, caught off guard by his subtle tease. Was that a compliment? From him? You laugh softly, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “Well, they’re stubborn, that’s for sure.”

Kyle, steps forward and holds the bunny out to you. “Here, love. Looks like he’s had his fun. Don’t worry, no harm done.”

You take the bunny from him, your fingers brushing his as you do. “Thanks,” you murmur, feeling a bit flustered by the warmth of his touch. “I was about ten seconds away from having a meltdown.”

Johnny leans forward, his grin widening even as he hands over your flemish giant. One by one, you get back all your bunnies. “Aye, ye seemed like ye were in a bit of a panic. But nae need to be embarrassed, lass. We’ve all got our little burdens.”

Your eyes dart to his, catching a mischievous twinkle there. He’s definitely enjoying this a little too much.

You sigh dramatically, still cradling your mischievous bunnies. You set them down, and like the most obedient angels ever, they just hop and wait around your feet. “They’re more than burdens, they’re the bane of my existence sometimes. But I love them.”

Price chuckles, arms crossed over his broad chest. “It’s good you care about them that much. Not everyone would go to such lengths for their pets.”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, well… they’re my kids, basically. Little fluffy nightmares, but I love them.” You glance up at the group, unable to hide your appreciation for their help. “I seriously owe you guys. Maybe a drink sometime? Or dinner? As a proper thank you and welcome, of course.”

Simon shifts slightly, eyes still on you, though his face remains unreadable behind the mask. Johnny shoots him a look, then turns back to you with a grin. “Would nae wanna bother ye, lass-“

You blink, quickly shaking your head. “Oh, no, it won’t be a bother at all! I mean, it’s the least I can do after… all of this.” You gesture vaguely at the situation. Your mini-lop flops down near Simon, likely expecting pats.

Johnny’s grin deepens, and he exchanges a look with Price. “We’ll hold ye to that, lass. What day works for ye?”

You laugh nervously, cheeks still warm. “I’ll… I’ll figure something out and let you know.”

Kyle gives you a soft, reassuring smile. “We’ll be looking forward to it. And don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye out for any runaway bunnies in the meantime.”

As the men begin to head back to their place, Johnny calls out over his shoulder, “Remember- dinner, lass! No backing out!”

You roll your eyes with a playful smile but can’t help feeling flustered as you watch them go, and then laugh a little when Simon smacks the back of Johnny’s head, your heart beating a little faster. When they’re out of sight, you glance down at your bunnies.

“Thanks for the assist, you little terrors,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Now I owe them dinner. Perfect.”

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

Part 2

Masterpost + interactions, comments, reblogs and everything in between is very much encouraged 🫶🏻

[ink-n-shadow]

i saw this post about types "talking you through your orgasms" and i had to discuss the types that the 141 men would be. i couldn't stop myself

TALKING YOU THROUGH IT

𝜗𝜚 the one about how the CoD men talk you through your orgasms

𝜗𝜚 characters: john price, kyle "gaz" garrick, john "soap" mactavish, simon "ghost" riley (reader is gender neutral) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), praise kink, dirty talk, slightly mean!simon, unedited 𝜗𝜚 a/n: lmk how we feel about the slightly different format (i'm still making edits but)

john price is definitely cooing softly in your ear about just how pretty you look, just how sweet your hole looks stretched out on three of his thick fingers, just how beautiful you look with drool slicking down your chin and unshed tears clinging to your lashes. “fuck, jus’ look at ya, doll—so fuckin’ pretty all split open on my hand, yeah? no, don't close yer thighs when ya come—wanna see how pretty y'look when ya tighten up 'round my fingers." doesn’t stop praising you or blabbering on about how pretty you look even after his softening cock slips out from between your thighs, his spend tricking out of your used hole and your tearstained face hidden away in the crook of his neck.

kyle garrick is the giggling kind, nose buried deep in the hair at your temple and his lips curled up into a smarmy grin as the rough pads of his fingers glide across the slick, molten flesh of your arousal with practiced ease. "feels good, yeah? got your legs just right tremblin', 'nd I've barely even started, sweetheart. shhh, shhh—'m only teasin', baby. tell me how good it feels." and he's totally the type to make you keep talking as he bullies his fingers into your heat, stopping every single time your words jumble together and your whiny moans begin to overpower your coherence. "keep talkin'—y'don't want me to stop, do you? s'what i thought—go on, then. what were you saying about my fingers hitting something just right?"

johnny mactavish is the condescending kind, azure eyes focusing on the way your eyes slowly cross as another orgasm ravages your nerve-endings and makes a scoff fall from his lips. "again, birdie? dinnae think y'had it in ya—how many's tha'? three, right?" but he's not slowling the pace of his thick fingers as they continue practically carving out your insides, fingertips mashing against that one spot that had your brain melting out your ears and moans slipping off your tongue. even the kiss he leaves against your forehead seems condescending, a knowing grin on his face as he feels your gooey insides gripping onto his fingers tighter. "yeah, tha's right—gimme a fourth. y'can do it, birdie—then i'll fuck my cock into ya, i promise."

simon riley is the (sometimes, not all the time) degrading kind, honeyed eyes meeting yours in the mirror in front of your bed as he forces you to watch the way his fingers disappear between your slick thighs. "look at tha', pet—greedy fuckin' hole, innit? already got three fingers 'nd you're practically beggin' for more, huh?" you would've answered him if he hadn't have stuffed your underwear between your lips, your eyes fighting to stay opened as your toes begin curling in the impending crest of your high—only for simon to rip his fingers from your fluttering hole, instead shoving the lube-covered fingers into your mouth until his middle finger brushes the back of your throat and the underwear slips out amongst the gagging. "didn't say y'could cum, did i? no (shaking your head for you with his fingers still buried in the back of your throat), don't think i did. knew you were a greedy lil thing—c'mere, be a good pet and suck me off."

©�� ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[knightjpg]

Brick by Brick

You have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was.  And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

tags: 🔞construction worker simon/neighbour reader, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), size kink, brief mention of simon's childhood abuse

part 1 | part 2

After that things shift, just a little. You still sit with Simon while he works, handing him tools he teaches you the names of; still try to convince him to get pay for his work around the house. 

But you have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was. 

And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

“Thought you might want some leftovers for lunch,” you tell him, holding out two tupperware boxes. “If you're working those long hours you have to eat right, you know?” 

When Simon opens them at home, just before tucking them away in his work bag for tomorrow, his chest clenches. It's not just leftovers. There's dried beef jerky, a pack of crackers that go well with coffee, and a fist-sized chunk of banana bread. And— 

A little note. 

His heart hammers against his chest when he unfolds it. It's nearly dark out, crickets chirping soft and low somewhere beneath the window. The only sound in his kitchen is the ticking of a clock. 

Good luck today! Don't work too hard :)  

“Christ,” he mumbles, fingers tracing over the ink. Pretty. Like you. Like every fucking thing you do. 

Summer is nearing its end, and Simon is running out of excuses. Part of him feels proud to see the house shape up to the best it can be, but over the months the boxes have nearly all disappeared. He knows—has helped you unpack God knows how many books. Helped you put together a new bookcase, even. 

But if he's no longer useful, what's keeping you from closing your door on him? Dread rises sharp and fast in Simon's throat when he thinks about a dark, cold home waiting for him as his only company. He passes your door on the way home, more often than not sees your silhouette against the warm light of your window. Illuminating the hard dirty edges of him.  

You've started feeding him, this big mean watchdog, and he might choke on his leash if you stop now. 

“Hello, what is that?”   

Simon sharply yanks his lunch away from Johnny's grabby paws.  

“None f’your business.” 

“Is that bloody banana bread? You've got to be fuckin’ me.” 

“That's homemade,” Kyle says unhelpfully from just behind Simon's shoulder. 

“Piss off,” Simon grumbles. 

Johnny does not, of course, piss off. Instead he grins, cheeky and wide. “Didn't know y’had a bird, Simon.” 

“Fuck,” Kyle groans. “Is that roast beef? That smells so good. Where'd you get this?” 

Johnny snorts. “More like who's he blackmailin'.” 

Simon glowers at Johnny, then says through a mouthful, “My girl.” 

If there'd been any hope of them dropping it, it's gone now. Simon realises his mistake as soon the words leave his mouth and Kyle and Johnny light up.  

They're incessant. Dog him at every opportunity—who is she? What's her name? What's she look like? Show us a photo, Simon, dinnae be so selfish. 

Simon suffers it for a week until he slams his gloves on Price's table and threatens someone's going to end up in the cement mixer by the end of the day if he doesn't do something about it. 

They quiet down after that, though they can't help but ask after you every now and then—even Price, who despite his congratulatory shoulder clap admits he wishes he had a sweet thing of his own. 

And the lunches keep going. As do the notes, every one of which Simon keeps carefully tucked away in a box at home. He didn't find one last night, and he suppresses the wave of disappointment. Maybe you forgot. Maybe you were just tired, and maybe he's grown too comfortable with your casual affection. 

So when a little piece of paper that was stuck to the bottom of the lid flutters onto the ground the next day Simon is unprepared. The two seconds of surprise cost him—Johnny dives after it like a hawk and scoops it before it's barely touched the concrete. 

“You little shit—” 

Simon's at him immediately, and Johnny, delighted by what he thinks is a funny fucking little game, twists and dodges while fumbling the note open with one hand. 

“Looking forward to dinner tonight. Be safe today,” Johnny reads before Simon snatches it from him with a hard shove to his head. “Aww, Simon, you lucky shite. C’mon, give us one o’ those cookies, aye? If you're goin’ home to a candle lit dinner.” 

“Get your own cookies,” Simon huffs, and curls one arm around his tupperware protectively while he eats. 

Looking forward.   

So is he. 

- 

“Simon!” 

Simon whips his head around and catches you stepping out of your car with a wave. You've arrived home just after him today, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees your dress flutter prettily around your legs. 

You're dressed up all nice today—must've been at university, then. Simon doesn't know which he likes better: the shorts you wear at home or the glimpse of cleavage he gets when you wear a nice work blouse. 

His dick throbs when he holds his own hand up in greeting, hanging back just to get those few extra seconds with you.  

He's not sure why today is especially bad. Probably doesn't help that every time he jacks off in the shower you're the one he thinks of, imaging your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. It's hard to resist the indulgence after a long hard day of sweating and laying brick, then coming home and only getting to look, not touch. He doesn't want to stain you with his filth, but what's he supposed to do? He wants you. 

And his desire has sat festering in the confines of his rib cage for months. It curls his hands in tight fists so he doesn't reach for you by accident the way he does in his dreams, keeps him from leaning in to taste your lips to see if they're as sweet as your cobbler pies. 

“Alright?” he asks when you get closer. You feel off, distant, and when you nod it feels like it's more for his sake than for the truth of it. 

“Yeah. Um.” You adjust the strap of the bag on your shoulder, shifting on your feet. “I wanted to let you know I can't do dinner tomorrow. I'm, um, I have a date, so...” 

The spin of the world stutters for a second.  

Simon sucks in a quiet breath. “That so.” 

“Yeah.” You look up at him with a sad little smile. Not the kind of face you'd expect from someone who just scored a date, but Simon is too wrapped up in his misery to notice. “How was your day?” 

Normal. Unsuspecting. Good, even, until you told him some twat is taking you out to dinner.  

“Fine,” he hears himself say. Adds, “Watchin’ a match tonight.”  

An excuse—an out for both of you. You won't have to feel obligated to ask him if he'd like to come ‘round for a meal, and he won't have to pretend he doesn't feel like throwing up. 

“Go Manchester,” you reply with a smile. 

Just like Simon, they don't score. 

- 

He waits up for you. It's pathetic, really—that of all things this is what gets him to dig around for a pack of smokes. Been mostly clean ever since you moved in next to him, his half-hearted attempts to quit finally mounting up to something with real resolve. 

He doesn't want to taste nicotine when he eats your meals. 

Even threw out his lighter. Which means when he finds a crushed, dust-caked pack with only one cigarette in it behind his couch he has to light it with a match and shaky hands. 

It tastes awful. But it's familiar, and sometimes he craves the burn even when he sees his dad putting out his own cigs on Simon's legs behind his eyelids. 

The evening grows colder around him, late summer skies tinted with dark purples and blues. It's quiet in the neighbourhood. He's the only one out this late—everyone else has retreated to the comfort of their homes, ready to turn in for the night. 

It should feel peaceful, but all Simon feels is anxious and on edge. Not even the smoke calms his nerves. 

Should he back off, leave you to the happiness you deserve? Throw everything away in one last shot, ask to take you out like he's wanted to forever? 

Words are no good, but he's tried so desperately to show you that he'd do just about anything if you asked. To let you know that underneath his gruff silences he doesn't bite the hand that feeds him and that he'd rip anyone else to shreds for raising a finger against you. 

Simon's head lifts when his ears pick up the rumbling of a car. Is it...? 

It is. 

Lamplight flashes over the cobbled street, and then the rumble of the engine turns off with a click. 

You're alone—thank God. Simon doesn't know what he would've done if you'd taken your date home. 

You look worn out, and not the happy kind after a successful lay. Just tired—to the point where you almost don't notice him and jump when you do. You take a startled step back from his hulking silhouette leaning against the stone little fence curling around all the houses along the street you share, before pausing and asking in a soft voice: 

“Simon?” 

And because he's a masochist he asks, “Y’have fun?” 

He expects a yes. At best a non-committal shrug—at worst an enthusiastic smile. But you look down at your shoes, chew your lip, and say, “No.” A breath. “No. It was awful. He was a twat, and he tried to feel me up under the table, and he's been hounding me at university for months, and I got so sick of it I just said yes but now I'm going to have to email HR and ugh—!”  

Your voice breaks on the last sentence and you sniffle, turning your face away from Simon so you can give it a quick wipe with the back of your hand. 

He's up on his feet in an instant, trying to take slow breaths so he doesn't act on the overwhelming urge to hunt down the wankstain and crush his fingers so he can never fucking touch you again. Your dog bites without warning or remorse, and everything in him wants to show your sad excuse of a date just how sharp his teeth are. 

But he can't. You're hurting, and that's more important than breaking some bloke's nose. 

And so Simon tries for softness as much as he's capable of it, large scarred hand hesitantly landing on your shoulder. It's all the coaxing you need to lean into his touch, and when Simon shifts a little closer your head falls on his shoulder. He burns with a different kind of fire. 

“Sorry,” you sniffle. “I'm okay, I really am, it was just such a—such a—” 

“S’alright,” Simon rasps. He pets your hair and strokes your back with a clumsy touch, unsure of how far he should, can, is allowed to go. “Y’should've called me. Would've come t’pick you up, maybe sock him a new one.”  

He'd do more than that if you'd let him. He'd take you home and made sure the only time you cried was when he worked his fat cock inside you. 

Christ, he's going to hell. 

“I didn't want to bother you,” you say in a small voice. 

“Sweetheart. You're never botherin’ me.” You let out a shaky sigh, and Simon tucks your head under his chin a little more securely. “Woulda made sure y’got home safe.” 

It's quiet, then, save for the sound of a car driving away somewhere down the road. Simon doesn't say anything else. He doesn't want to break the spell that you're under. You feel so soft in his arms, his sweet bird, finally come home to where you belong. 

“I kept wishing it was you.” Your voice is so soft he almost doesn't catch it, but before he can process it you pull yourself out of his embrace, cursing under your breath. “Sorry. Sorry—forget I said that. I'm... I'm gonna go home.” 

Simon's hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. You stare at him with big wet eyes that has the pit of his stomach swoop low. 

“Y’wish it was me?” 

His voice is low and rough, strained with want. 

Your cheeks burn and you avert your eyes, though you don't pull your hand away. “Sorry. Ignore me, I'm just...” 

“I'll take you,” Simon says a little too quickly. “Anywhere you wanna go. Dinner. Movies.” He pauses, trying to remember what people do for fun. “The library.” 

There. You hiccup a little laugh, finally, and the beginnings of a smile tug at your mouth. 

“The library?” 

Simon smiles a little, too. “Anywhere you want,” he repeats. Even the fucking library. 

Your gaze drops to your hands, and you carefully turn your palm against his. “I think I'd like that.” 

Simon swallows and lets his fingers intertwine with yours. “Yeah?” 

“I don't really care where we go, though. If it's with you.” 

Jesus bloody Christ. 

“Okay,” Simon says, voice tight. “Alright. We'll—we'll figure it out. We'll go somewhere.” A breeze hits you as he says it, and you shiver. “...Right now let's just get you home.” 

You nod, the fatigue overtaking your features again. Simon walks you all the way to your door, squints against the night sensor he installed himself. 

You hover in the doorway before opening your mouth, closing it, then take a small step forward to rise on your toes. Simon's heartbeat kicks up under your hand where you steady yourself on his chest, and then he feels your lips press against his cheek. It's his bad one, the one with the nasty scar from a bar fight long ago. 

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

“Yeah,” he manages, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “’Course.” 

The door closes with a soft click.  

- 

When you mention wanting to hike out on a trail nearby Simon, true to his word, makes it happen. It's not so bloody hot anymore and it's nice, hearing the birds chirp overhead. Nice to exist in a world where everything is washed in shades of mottled green, hearing the dirt crunch under his feet.  

It relaxes him. Makes his muscles untense. You promised him a picnic at the end of the trail, and to Simon's delight he succeeds in coaxing you to feed him bites of your homemade sandwiches in the midst of tall grass and meadow flowers. 

When you get home, sweat and sun lingering on your skin, Simon has full intentions of dropping you off at your doorstep and wishing you a good night. Maybe get another kiss if he's lucky. 

And he does—but you linger, soft lips hovering over his cheek. His fingers curl and uncurl against his sides, waiting and wondering. 

“Please kiss me?” you breathe on his skin, and that's all it takes. 

He surprises himself with the intensity of it, but fucking hell, he's wanted you for so long. His shoulders hunch, neck bent low, and he slots his mouth over yours. Your little fingers grab at his shirt for balance, and he pushes you against your doorframe. Every time he pulls away you make a small noise of protest and chase his lips, and though Simon hasn't had a drop of alcohol today he feels well on his way to hammered. 

“Do you want to—please come inside—?” 

Simon groans and rests his forehead against yours. Fuck. “I want to—want t’do this right,” he rasps. 

You exhale with a shaky breath. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glittering like stars. Simon's stomach lurches at seeing you want him. “Right, um. Of course. I just—I've thought about... about you. For a—a really long timmf—” 

Simon groans into your mouth. He cups your cheeks, one hand sliding to hold you at the back of your neck. A sweat breaks out along his spine when he imagines you at night, in your bedroom, fucking yourself with your little fingers. Whimpering his name... 

“Yeah? Y’want me to take you to bed, sweetheart?” he murmurs, and you shiver. 

The two of you barely make it past the door until Simon is stealing the breath from your lungs again. He's wanted this for so long it's a little hard to stop, even if it's to break apart for air. Miraculously you seem to want it as much as he does, seem as desperate for his touch as he is for yours. 

When has anyone wanted him this bad? When has he ever felt like he'd die on the spot if he didn't get inside you right the fuck now? 

He doesn't need to ask you where the bedroom is. This place has felt his touch almost as much as yours, has shaped up into a cosy little home that is part of him, too. Like he wants to be part of you. 

Simon simply scoops you up and carries you straight to bed, forgetting to be gentle when he deposits on the mattress. His head is buzzing, his heart is thundering, and he needs you now.  

Fortunately you don't seem to mind much. Your hands immediately fly to his belt, tug at the metal impatiently, then fumble with his zipper with trembling hands. Simon pulls your top over your head, throws it somewhere on the floor without a care followed by his own. 

“Lie back,” he husks, and makes quick work of your trousers. Pauses just for a second to take in the growing wet patch of your panties. 

“Simon,” you whine softly. 

He drops to his knees and slides his large hands over your thighs, transfixed. He smooths over the goosebumps on your legs, presses a kiss to your knee. 

“Want me t’take these off?” he rasps, snapping the band of your panties. You lift your hips in silent assent. Simon helps you shimmy off your underwear and suppresses a moan when a string of sticky arousal clings to the fabric—then follows it right to the source. 

You gasp when he kisses your folds before gently spreading them with big warm fingers. “Sweet little cunt,” Simon mutters, and then he goes to town. 

He starts with slow, wet licks, feeling out what you like and what's too much. He keeps it light for a while just to feel you squirm and to hear your breathing turn ragged, then backs off just when your knees start trembling. He smiles when you whimper his name with a desperate little “please". 

“Such good manners.” His breath washes over your clit, and your hips try to twitch away from him. “Proper sweetheart, yeah?” 

It's great fun, playing with you, but his cock is throbbing painfully and he's leaking everywhere, and he very much intends for you to end the night feeling so blissed out you let him sleep next to you. 

So Simon hoists you closer, hooks your thighs over his shoulder, and sucks on your clit until you're sobbing his name. He holds your hips down by splaying one big hand over your stomach because you're a sensitive little thing, bucking away from him when he's not nearly done with you yet.  

It's cute, seeing you lose yourself to the pleasure. It's also really fucking hot. Simon slowly pushes one finger in you and groans when you clench around him. 

“Simon,” you whimper. “Oh, please, please—” 

Such a good girl, begging without him telling you to. Simon crooks his finger, and your next breath is a stutter of moans before your whole body tenses and you cum on his tongue. 

Simon hums approvingly, keeping his motions slow and steady so you ride it out all the way. When you whine and wriggle away from him he lets up, wiping at your slick covering his chin. 

Best meal you've cooked him by far. 

“Oh,” you sigh. “That was... Give me—give me a minute...” 

Simon chuckles and rises from his knees to crawl over you and steal a kiss. “Feelin’ good, princess?” 

“Princess—” you let out a breathless laugh, but even in the low light of your nightstand lamp Simon sees the colour rise in your cheeks. Liked that, did you? You blink up at him, a sweet satisfied smile on your lips. “Mhm. So good. Come here?” 

Your hands trail over his sides, stroke over the light hair trailing down his stomach. Simon shudders when your knuckles brush over his cock and he shucks off his trousers further to give you better access. 

When you wrap your hand around him he drops his head into the crook of your shoulder and moans. The twitch of his hips is involuntary, too desperate to chase his pleasure to stay put. 

“Next time,” you whisper while pulling him forward, spreading your legs wider to fit around his hips, “I want to feel you in my mouth.” 

“Jesus,” he groans. It takes everything in him to not just slide in. “We need a condom?” 

“I'm clean,” you murmur against his jaw. “On birth control. If you want we can—” 

“Fuck yeah I do,” Simon says, and you laugh. Soft eyes when your hands slide over his shoulders, brush through the short hair on his neck. Simon watches your face while he lines himself up without blinking, and he's rewarded with the flutter of your eyelashes, the parting of your soft lips. 

Your brows scrunch together at the first few inches, and he kisses you sweetly to make you relax. Simon knows he's not small, and he groans when you clench around him. 

“Good girl,” he whispers against your hair. “Good girl. Just like that, yeah? Takin’ it real well. Just like that.” 

He slides in a little deeper. You shiver and mewl and beg him for more, and he gives it to you. Anything you want.  

“Simon,” you whimper. “Feels so—oh, you feel so good. More, please, please—?” 

Simon brushes the hair from your forehead, keeping his thrusts long and slow and making sure to kiss your cervix each time, just because your breath stutters so prettily every time he does. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, you're so—such a tight little cunt. Couldn't wait any longer, could you? Jus’ had to have me?” 

You nod immediately and empathically, eyes glassy with arousal. You try to answer him, but the only thing you manage are airy moans that sound like his name. 

That's alright. Don't need to talk. He knows what you want to say; he feels the same. Simon catches you in a messy kiss while lacing his fingers with yours. Yours. Mine.  

He shoves his free hand between your two bodies and finds your clit, circling it until he's found the right rhythm that has tears gathering in your eyes. He could live on that for the rest of his life, of hearing you mindlessly stuttering his name while your body tenses up and your head drops back and those pretty lips part in a choked moan— 

“Christ,” Simon grits through his teeth, sweat dampening his brow. Your cunt flutters around him, soft little flower in full bloom that, with another thrust or two, has him falling apart as well. 

Both of you moan at the feeling of his cum spurting hot and thick in your waiting womb. Simon rocks against you slowly to make sure you get every last drop—birth control or not. 

He kisses you on the comedown. You melt into his touch, butter and honey, running your fingers through his hair until Simon shifts you around so you're curled up against him. 

In another minute he'll get up and get you a washcloth before tucking you in and kissing your bare shoulders. He'll wrap himself around you before sleep takes you, make sure that he's the last thing you see and hear and touch. 

For now he lets himself bask in the present. In having a sweet little bird clinging to him for comfort and giving him more than he could ever ask for in return. 

Simon doesn't think you quite realise what you've gotten yourself into, in giving this big ugly watchdog your affection. He's not a king or a prince; not even a knight, not like the ones you read so much about. Simon wouldn't exactly call himself chivalrous or genteel. 

But he's just as devoted and twice as vicious. He'll belong to you, and you to him, and from the moment he saw you he was oath-bound. 

He'll have to steal a ring or two to measure which size is right. It'll take some work to knock down the walls between your two houses, but he'll ask the lads for help. Simon knows you'll win them over right away if you cook dinner or bake them something sweet. 

And maybe in time he'll have to try his own hand at baking. He always did want to put a bun in the oven, and Simon just knows that if you're the one to do it with him— 

It'll come out perfect. 

[meteraa]

More horny Y/N, poly 141 and nik

Nik: comes inside from the garage, shirtless and sweating

Y/N: giggling like a freak with heart in their eyes

Nik: Y/N….

Y/N: *twitching* I’m reallllly trying not to suck you off right now.

Gaz: Do we need to sedate them?

Price: I don’t think even that would work…

Soap: *pouting* How come dinnae thay git like' this whin im all hot,shirtless,and sweaty?

Ghost:*secretly jealous* Shut up.

[shotmrmiller]

smut because somehow i always end up there.

yknow something that pushy ass cbf!johnny would do?

tell you that he'd get more benefits and/or pay if he had a spouse.

"Because you're in absolute poverty, Johnny."

He clicks his tongue. "Be serious, hen."

You are being serious. Johnny's not hurting for cash. His parents are still alive, so he has no need to buy a place of his own, and even then, he just swings by his family's home before coming back to stay with you until leave's over. Honestly, you should be charging him rent.

"Johnny. Unless you're planning on buying another ostentatious vehicle with tires too big for this tiny town, I'm not seeing what you're seeing."

He digs his thumb into the arch of your foot that's draped over his lap. "But think o' the possibilities! If say, you married me, ye wouldn't need to work anymore. Jus' worked on gettin' the job of yer dreams! An' besides, ah'd never realistically settle down anyway; too busy savin' the world an' all."

The extra income must be drastic if he's this insistent. "Why not marry the big brit with the skull for a face? You talk about him enough to sound like you've got a hard on for him."

He avoids your gaze when he informs you that Ghost is already married.

"And what about me? What if I find a boyfriend or something?" you playfully teased. Johnny's bright blue eyes turned to ice.

"Is there someone?" A muscle worked in his jaw.

Dread crawled up your spine. Abort. Abort. "Of course not." The tension melted from his face— gaze gentling and lips softening.

Christ, can he be intense sometimes.

You clear your throat. "Say I do marry you. What do you get out of this as my benefactor? Math isn't mathing, Johnny."

His lips curl upwards in amusement. "Nothin' between us would change. Jus' get a nice, shiny band on my hand tha' keeps unwanted advances off of me, and I wouldn't have to live on base anymore. Tired of eatin' tha' slop at dfac."

Johnny's long fingers curl around your ankle, thumb drawing gentle circles on the bone. "C'mon, hen. Think about your career! Marry me and ye won't even have t'change yer last name, swear."

Once again, fooled by the pretty face and dazzling smile.

You were a MacTavish by the end of the month, and he'd ended up in your bed that same night. Pushed your face into the soft mattress as he bullied his cock into you, telling you to feel how he splits his little wife's pussy open.

Mottled the delicate skin of your neck and collarbone with purple love bites when he hooked your knees over his shoulders, forcing you to take all of him in that devastating angle.

Made you look at yourself in the mirror in the bathroom, one hand gripping your neck, and the other on your swollen cunt, rubbing tight circles on your slippery clit. "Look at how beautiful y'are. How good yer takin' me." He tilts your head upwards, locking eyes with you. "This cunt was made f'me, wasn't it, wife?" he rumbles.

If he said anything else, it was promptly drowned out by a buzzing in your ears as your world went white. Warmth trickled down your legs as pleasure burst through you, spasm after gut-twisting spasm. Johnny blessedly slows down, working you through it tenderly, until you hiss in discomfort from oversensitivity.

"The way ye look in yer pleasure is somethin' i'll see behind my eyelids forever, bonnie."

Heat licks up the sides of your jaw. "Johnny, please—" you cut off, a moan tumbling out of your lips when he presses himself flush against your arse.

"Dinnae worry, ah'm not done with ye jus' yet." There's a hand in between your shoulder blades, pushing down gently. "Bend over, hands behind yer back, Mrs. MacTavish."

ghost is in fact, not married.

and the pay raise is mediocre.

[thelaisydazy]

Firefighter!Simon Riley x Reader - Locked Out

“Riley! Bad dog!”

You don’t have time to look up before a familiar German Shepherd barrels into you, knocking you to the ground and sending your keys skittering across the sidewalk. 

You sputter as the dog licks your face before a hand grips Riley’s collar and pulls him off you. You wipe the dog slobber from your face and look up expecting to see Simon, instead you see a broad man with a short mohawk, attempting to reign in the overexcited dog. 

“Sorry leannan, dinnae mean fur ‘im tae get away from me,” he said as you started to get back on your feet. 

“S’alright,” you say, brushing off your pants. You give him a quick once over. He's wearing jeans and a tight fitting navy T-shirt with the fire department’s emblem on it. 

He gives you a lopsided grin. “Lek whit ye see, bonnie?” He teases. 

Your face feels warm as you attempt to stutter out a response. 

“I'm only joking, lasso,” he chuckles at your embarrassment. He glances at the bakery door. “Gett’n off yer joab? Ye must be that wee thing the LT acts so sweet aboot.”

You stare at him for several moments, having little idea what he's saying. “I uh… I was just getting off work yeah,” you finally say. “Bakery's closed for the day, sorry.”

“Oh naw, I wasn’t look’n tae buy anyfing,” he said warmly. “Jus’ walkin’ Riley ‘ere.” He stuck a hand out. “Ye can call me Johnny.”

You shake his hand, giving him your name as well. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “I don’t mean to rush off, but I need to get home.” You stick your hands in your pockets, finally registering that your keys weren’t in their usual place. You pat your other pockets before looking around at the ground. 

“Whit ye look’n fer?” Johnny asked. 

“My keys,” you say. “I think I dropped them when Riley ran up.” Your eyes scan the sidewalk before spotting the storm drain by the curb. Johnny seems to read your mind as he walks over and looks through the grate. 

“Wee charm oan it?” he asks. 

You groan. Of course your keys had fallen into the storm drain. How were you supposed to get into your apartment now? Your landlord was away on holiday and he hadn’t left a spare behind. He wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night. You’d just spend the night in the bakery, but you’d already locked up for the night and no one would be back until morning. 

Johnny seems to sense your distress as he claps you on the back, knocking you from your thoughts. “Ye can stay wi’ us at th’ station house,” he suggested. “We can even get yer keys oot th’ drain fur ye.”

“I don’t wanna be a both-” you start to say but are cut off by Johnny. 

“Dinna fash!” he beamed at you. “ Nae trouble at all.”

Before you could protest, Johnny wraps a muscular arm over your shoulder and starts to guide you back to the station, grinning to himself as Riley trotted happily next to you. Simon was going to love this.

---

As a treat, here's a second one today <3