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shoeistars · 24 days ago

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adrenaline rush !

incl. isagi, bachira, kunigami, reo, nagi, barou, rin, shidou

ʚଓ outline. there’s something different about the way he fucks you post match

ʚଓ w. 18+ content, minors dni, pro!characters, fem!bodied, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise

isagi !

It’s always the same. Not to say that Isagi had boring sex game— no, there is zero truth to that. Win, lose, draw, he had this primal feel to him once all was said and done on the pitch. Sweaty, a little flushed in the cheeks and ears, total tunnel vision because the one thing he wants after a game is a warm and wet pussy to sink into.

The hotel bed didn’t stand a chance, really. It has probably seen its fair share of fucking, has likely withheld many bumps and breaks. Each thrust caused an annoying creak to echo into the air, a small little cry for help that fell on deaf ears. He wasn’t the type to settle for a quick fuck but home was miles away and he was an impatient man. The walls were blank, the sheets wrinkling and coming undone from each corner of the mattress, bunching right underneath your spent body as he works you out further.

“Is there a reason why you’re bein’ quiet?” The rough cut of Isagi’s voice questions into your right ear, body mounted on top of yours as if to mimic that sweet and victorious moment of a predator capturing his dinner. There’s a rhythm to his hips as he plows you from behind, not quite hitting deep and merely focused on speed alone.

His hand, the one not curled loosely around your throat and threatening to cut off your oxygen supply, kneads at the crease of your hip meeting your thigh. It would feel like a rather loving touch if he weren’t battering into your guts to chase his own high. It goes off course and dips between your thighs, pawing gently at the mound of your hot cunt before introducing his middle and ring finger in a slippery dance against your clit.

“That’s fine, you don’t gotta say a thing,” He drawls on, choking on a groan at the feeling of you pulsing so delicately around his cock. That egoist that the field loves to see so much shines through even hours after he’s left the grass, after he’s ditched the cleats. It seeps out of his pores, it leaves his throat in the form of snark and cockiness. You’ve always told him how much you adored it when he got into his flow, anyway. “This pussy tells on you every fucking time.”

bachira !

Endorphins flooding his brain, Bachira can barely see straight. Every single win under his belt has felt the same, gave him that same smile and that familiar rush. There was nothing like reaching the tip of the iceberg and collecting yet another accomplishment in his career. He’s always been the type to celebrate by stretching the party, by chasing drinks and good food and enjoying company.

One of his favorite ways to celebrate a good and clean win is to have you spread out on the bed. As much as he misses his funky room back at home, the one filled with colors and his personality— the provided living quarters would have to suffice. Door locked, plenty of activity going on just outside. Bachira wasn’t himself if he weren’t living on the very edge.

Lips suctioned to your pussy, he can only smile at the feeling of sharp tugs assaulting his long hair. He’s still damp with sweat but you never seemed to mind, surely not when he was sucking you up like his last meal. He’s gotten the hang of going down on his girl after plenty of years, twisting and turning his tongue against your throbbing clit with technique. “Meguru, don’t stop,” you mewl rather loud, thighs twitching and toes curling against his shoulders.

“So loud,” he snickers against your pussy with glossy lips and lidded eyes, moaning softly against your folds before he’s pulling back to spit a thick glob onto your hole. His thumb dips down to smear it along your lips, biting his own at the erotic view before pushing the mess right back into your cunt. “Fuck, that’s pretty.”

The beautiful thing about a man as patient as Bachira was that he could do this for hours, sucking and licking and kissing. Nothing got him harder than getting you off, than suffocating in your cream and your scent. He had time.

kunigami !

Blue Lock as a whole ruined your boyfriend. He was never the same, never would be. There was a lack of spirit in him that was once his one unique quality. Everyone who knew Kunigami grew to adore him because he really was just a friendly face. Now, soccer and everything to do with the sport only brought out this nasty side to him.

The first time you were able to reunite was messy. Post game, he would normally stick to something easy. Nice dinner reservation, a little bit of harmless fun afterwards. That Kunigami was left in the goddamn dirt, replaced with someone who still loved but in such a drastically different way.

He was mean. Of course, you’d adapt. He would still remain loyal and considerate, would still make sure you were taken care of after all was said and done. There was just an animalistic dominance to him in the bedroom that was so unrecognizable to what once was. He was ferocious in the way he guided you down to your knees, slapping his thick and heavy dick against your cheek once, twice, three times for good measure.

Grunts and groans filled the room, never a quiet guy. The old Kunigami was gentle and even a bit timid but the way he fucks your face now is the opposite. Spit dribbling down your chin, throat nearly bulging with the head of his cock, gags so forcibly loud that they’d be leaving your voice hoarse. Your hands are shaky as they attempt to curl around the thickness of his quads, begging for a break. The sight only makes him scoff.

“Make me cum,” He demands, quiet yet filled with a sharpness that made you squeeze your thighs together. “Earn it.”

reo !

The time and place doesn’t matter— Reo will always be a sucker for missionary. He’s a yearner, he loves so deeply and a hundred wins could never compare to watching your face when he’s laying it down good. The furrow in your brow, the scrunch of your nose. Bliss always looked best on you and he just wouldn’t be him if he didn’t spoil you rotten.

Stupidly expensive chain dangling right in your face, the metal swaying with each hard thrust. Reo hasn’t blinked once since getting you on the leather sofa, focused on what you respond best to. Not a single twitch could go unnoticed by him and he’d be damned if he doesn’t get your cross-eyed, if he doesn’t get you singing by the time he’s done making a sloppy mess of you.

“So cute,” He whispers sweetly, a little tipsy from the after party that the two of you returned from just shy of an hour ago. Your makeup left messy trails and streaks all over but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t add to it all. Liquor staining his lips, he can’t help himself from diving down for a needy little kiss. Lips sliding against yours, just a ghost of a touch, almost missing and pecking at the corner of your mouth instead.

Your legs ache from how high they’re settled, heels propped on his shoulders. He’s gotten big since his first big steps at chasing a professional career, the protein doing what it was supposed to do. Your ogling of his physique was cut so short as he snuck a hand between your legs, circling at your clit with percision. He had a one track mind and that was to get you squirting, to get you feeling just as good as today has felt for him.

“Show me how wet this pussy gets for me,” Reo punctuates his plea with faster circles, deeper thrusts, unable to help the satisfied grin that tugs at his lips when you only grow louder. “Make me proud. Nut on my dick, know you can do it.”

nagi !

Not a lot of things come to impress Nagi Seishirou. He’s hard to capture the attention of, going through life with simplicity and preferring to stick to his guns. It was a shock to everyone who knew him when he landed a girlfriend in the first place. The same guy who disregarded everything that required the bare minimum amount of attention managed to score? It was almost too good to be true.

It was fair to assume that after years of learning how to be present, how to be a fair and decent boyfriend, he could never go back. Not after getting a taste of you, not after feeling the highs that you managed to pull straight out of him like a puppet to your string. You opened so many new doors, you were good for his mental.

The best way to spend a good night is to make it even better. Your thighs straddle his, the fancy little number you wore for such a big game ridden up and out of his way. Pussy leaking like a faucet, the sounds of you bouncing your hips is embarrassingly loud in the backseat of your car. The two of you just couldn’t wait.

“Look so good tonight, baby,” He practically slurs, pussydrunk and successfully knocked from all of the theatrics of the night. He can never seem to think straight once you’re on top of him like this, tits bouncing right in his face, wrapped around him like a serpent. “Know that? Did I already tell you? I’ll tell you a million times.”

Oh, how he would. He would do whatever the hell you want if you’d just stay like this, wrapped around him like a vise, squeezing him hotly. You were his dime piece and he’d be an utter fool to not bend at your every beck and call.

barou !

Naturally, his first order of business after hours of playing on the same standing grounds as a bunch of sweaty neanderthals is to hit the showers. There’s nothing that he hates more than the way his jersey sticks to his back like glue, the skin of his forehead dewy. What he wasn’t expecting was his little plus one to trail on in after him, clothes long ditched as you slot yourself into the tiny compact stalls of the stadium’s complementary showers.

You know him by now. You know that whether he ate a loss or devoured a victory that he wasn’t much of a talker after exerting himself in the hot sun. Nearly running on empty, this was the one and only time that the stupidly buff man was dead silent. Zero complaints left him as he wrapped a wet palm around the nape of your neck, brushing lazily at the hair there with his thumb, angling upwards until he could latch his lips to yours.

Slow kisses and gentle touches, there wasn’t much energy left for a rough fuck. Barou was a thorough lover at the end of the day, showing his gratitude of your endless support by making your pussy soak him sloppy. The sensuality made up for the lack of output, so tender and passionate in ways that screams his love without making him verbalize it. God forbid he ever did that.

“Oh, I know,” he purrs against your swollen bottom lip as he sinks in, sheer strength keeping you held in his arms, back against the cold tile of the shower. Your hearty whimpers bounce off of the walls and he swears it’s his favorite sound. It’s always a challenge to take such a thick cock and he’s nothing if not a gentleman. “It’s so deep, huh? You’re taking it so well, though.”

It always makes him bite back a grin of pride when your nails claw at his shoulders, leaving nasty marks into the meaty flesh— a last resort at gathering your bearings before he fucks you so out of your mind that you threaten to pass out every single time. The sounds are filthy as he pours every last bit of his effort into you, tiring you out to match.

rin !

Soccer invokes plenty of strong emotions out of Rin as a whole. The pitch is the one place where he can unleash everything, where it genuinely counts. Post match? He gets rather passionate, in his feelings, raw and open like a fresh cut. It’s clear that he puts his full effort into every little detail of his day, that he considers everything a waste if not done to the fullest.

Simply put, if you aren’t shaking purely from overstimulation and pleasure, he isn’t done. A man akin to a machine, stamina blessing him with several rounds in the tank, there’s no telling just how long he’ll keep you in the same position. Body pressed into the bed, twitching against the wrinkled sheets, weakly holding onto a pillow as your final saving grace.

“Shit, that’s it,” He hisses as soon as he feels the tight, hot grip of your cunt wringing him. It’s the fifth he’s managed to pull out of you, keeping you perfectly bent until you physically give out. Times like these, sweat glistening down your back and thighs quivering as if they’re ready to snap are his favorite.

A hand reaches until it hits skin. It runs along the nape of your neck, sticky and dewy yet so intimate. His fingers dip down to cup your chin, light in the way he forces you to look over your shoulder. Your eyes connect and it has you breaking all over again, doing your best to keep them open as you cum almost on instant. Balls clapping your swollen clit with the sheer angle he’s hitting, so deep in your guts that it hurts. You didn’t stand a chance against him.

No, you were the love of his goddamn life. The one person he looked for in a room full of people, the only one who’s seen every inch of his body. He could never be worthy of you if he couldn’t fuck you to sleep with ease.

shidou !

Shidou on the field and off of the field are arguably the same person. Still eccentric, still too inappropriate for his own good. He brings levels of excitement that are otherwise hard to reach and truly, it’s difficult to keep up with him. Marching to the beat of his own drum and seeking fulfillment is what gives him his drive, its fuel for his fire.

The hospitality was his favorite part of the Blue Lock journey. He outperformed majority of the selected players and he was rewarded in turn, given luxuries and spoiled to the nines with catering and amenities. His suite was huge and he’s already fucked you in every corner of it, every surface. It’s not his until it’s tainted with him, after all.

“Shit, I needed this after today,” His voice rasps in your ear, the hard plastic edge of the hot tub that he’s got you bent over successfully digging into your ribs. Bubbles and suds clap into the air with each thrust, water gently rocking into a splash as it spills past the confines and drips onto the concrete of the balcony. It was a beautiful night after a beautiful win and nothing could make this better for him. “Water’s so warm. Do you like it too? Huh, gorgeous?”

When a dick that long was forcing itself into you, in and out like a sick song, kissing your cervix with each hit— words were hard to come by. Moans and gasps rupture from your throat as you try to muster a nod, grasping at the slippery corner of the hot tub for dear life, his pelvis smacking against the globes of your ass hard enough to sting.

He stops, so cruel and mean, dick still fully lodged in your walls. Pressing deep, hugging your aching sides and tugging you into his chest, he plants sloppy wet kisses along your cheek. “C’mon,” Shidou sneers with a smile, downright evil in the way he brings a hand up to grip your face between his fingers. “Good girls speak when they’re spoken to.”

#bllk smut #bllk x reader #isagi smut #bachira smut #kunigami smut #reo smut #nagi smut #barou smut #rin smut #itoshi smut #rin itoshi smut #shidou smut #blue lock smut

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rebelfell · 4 months ago

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gym!eddie isn’t doing anybody any favors hiding in the vault. cont’d from here and here. 18+, MDNI 1.4k

eddie munson x plus-size!reader (cw: weight discussion, but we keep it fluffy. angst doesn’t exist in this universe)

This was a great fucking day.

It certainly hadn’t started out that way. Between a slew of emails from clients and Zoom meetings that would not end, Eddie’s work day crawled by at a painfully sluggish pace.

He had even tried going on a run at lunch just to jolt himself with some endorphins, but he hadn’t managed to close even half of his exercise ring before he needed to stop—winded and panting, leaning on a tree for support as he stood there practically hacking up one of his lungs.

Seriously, how had he never noticed how piss-poor his stamina was?

But any day that ended like this—with you in his bed, his hands getting to roam freely across the softness of your belly and the graceful dip of your waist and the plentiful curves of your hips and ass—was a great fucking day in Eddie’s book, no matter how badly it started.

“You’re so cute,” he sighed, grinning as he nuzzled his face against yours and his stubble tickled the sensitive skin of your neck and ear. “How in the hell did you get so cute? Seriously?”

In the weeks since you’d started seeing one another, he’d finally gotten to the point he could say these kinds of thoughts out loud instead of screaming them inside his head. And it enthralled him to no end you seemed to delight in hearing them as much as he delighted saying them.

Like now, for instance, with the way your lips curved upward into a smile as you shrugged back, biting down on your bottom lip as you giggled. God, was he obsessed with that sound.

His head dipped low, capturing your mouth with his to kiss you deeply and passionately. And he knew you could feel exactly how hard he was when your hips rolled briefly against his.

“What do you like?” he asked on an exhale, his hot breath rushing over your neck so your spine shook with shivers. “Tell me, please. I want to be ready. How do you want me to be?”

He swore he could feel how the words affected you, arching your back to push your body closer to his, letting out a soft sigh and a breathless hum of pleasure. But when he pulled back to look at you, to see your face and look in your eyes when you answered, he saw something else flicker across your face. Something torn between excitement and trepidation.

“What?” Eddie chuckled. “What was that look?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

You shook your head and looked away bashfully, hiding your face in his pillow. Though you might as well start thinking of it as your pillow now, as far as he was concerned.

“Come on,” he urged, still dropping light kisses on the apples of your cheeks that warmed as blood rushed beneath them with your embarrassment. “Please tell me?”

Your head shook again. “No, it’s dumb.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

He brought his hand up to cradle your jaw and tipped your face towards his.

The late afternoon sun coming through his blinds splayed across your lovely face, bringing out the brightness of your eyes. He’d honestly paint his whole apartment that very shade if he could. Every inch of every wall, every door frame and baseboard and piece of trim. Even the ceilings.

He wanted to be drenched in you.

“I, um…” You laughed nervously, all of a sudden sweetly shy in a way he’d never seen you before. “I like the idea of…getting thrown around. Being, like…man-handled.”

It’s like literal sirens go off in Eddie’s ears. His brain straight up flatlines, he’s so overwhelmed by the barrage of images that flood his mind the second you say that. He feels as though all the tiny Eddies in his head are running around and screaming at one other in a total panic—Holy shit! Holy FUCKING shit! What do we do?! Where’s the manual?! GET THE FUCKING MANUAL!

“Just—” Eddie stammered as he cleared his throat, the word coming out in a too-high crack the likes of which he hadn’t heard since puberty. “Just the idea?”

“Well, yeah, no one’s ever…” You blinked up at him, collecting yourself. “I mean, I’m not exactly dainty, you know? So no one’s ever tried.”

“What if I tried?”

The question popped out before he had taken even a moment to think it over, for him to come up with even marginally better phrasing. Fuck it, he thought. Too late to take it back now, anyway.

And it wasn’t like he didn’t mean it.

His heart still flutters when he hears you laugh, but it stings a bit with the way you look away. “You can’t lift me, Eddie,” you told him flatly.

His brow scrunched, a little offended.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know what you bench,” you retorted with a sassy bob of your head.

“Okay.” Eddie’s eyes rolled. “And it’s more?”

“Yes. It’s more.”

“By how much?”

Your expression wrinkles and it stings a little more this time when you shrink away. Shit.

He didn’t mean for it to come out like that. He didn’t mean to ask what you weigh so explicitly. Not that he’s avoiding asking, so to speak. He just knows it won’t change anything. It’s not like there’s some number you’re gonna say that is going to make him balk. He knows what you look like and he knows he likes it. He knows he maybe even loves it, but that’s neither here nor there.

He wants to know for…other reasons.

It takes a lot more reassurance and some more gentle coaxing, but he finally gets a number out of you. And yeah, it’s more than what he typically maxes out at, but it’s not that much more. He’ll ask Steve tomorrow about a new regimen, and he’s definitely seen him do some of those very specific hip thrust exercises that Eddie can only imagine are meant for this exact purpose.

He’s got some time. He can get there.

It’s not like he’s gonna be ragdolling you the first time out of the gate. You guys were still new, still feeling one another out, still keeping everything soft and gentle and sweet.

God, he wants to be so sweet to you.

But he also wants to ruin you, if that's what you like. He’ll twist your body into whatever shape he can imagine—he knows you do yoga, you must have a whole arsenal of poses—and then he’ll fuck you until your brain is leaking out of your ears if that’s what you want. He certainly does.

Speaking of leaking brains, Eddie nuzzled up to you again and the way you relax into his touch is sort of brain-melting in a totally different way. That breathy little laugh of yours is back as he hooks one of your legs over his hip and starts to nip gently at your throat with his teeth.

His hands gripped your waist and he helped you roll your body against his, trying out what it’s like to guide and direct you, seeing the way it makes you slowly but surely relinquish control.

But he doesn’t push any further, despite the adamant protests coming from between his legs.

Neither of you wanted to go too fast. Eddie, because he genuinely didn’t want to miss a second of getting to know you, and he kind of had this tendency of going full throttle and driving himself headlong into a brick wall. And you, because with him living so close by you felt like you were already at risk for being swept up into a total cling-fest of a relationship.

He doesn’t ask you to stay for dinner, because you and he made a deal you wouldn’t have dinner together two nights in a row. And with tomorrow being his cheat day, he wants to take you to his favorite Italian place because A) the food is incredible and B) it’s got all this soft, moody lighting he’s sure as shit is gonna make you look like a fucking oil painting sitting across from him.

Still, the conversation has clearly made you a little squirrely and he lets you steer him away from his offer to walk you home, not wanting to push any further or faster than you’re ready for.

And it’s not even been a minute since he’s kissed you goodnight before he’s going into his fitness app and updating his weightlifting goals.

there were supposed to be more parts before we got here—but who cares, I do what I want.

Ty for reading 😘 love you, mean it!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie stranger things #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #gym!eddie #neighbors!au

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thatsdemko · 1 year ago

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without me? - l.norris

masterlist | pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: the silence he enters to is odd… but was there ever really any silence?

warnings: smut + not intended for minors + no plot?

a/n: reminder this is 18+ content!!! I need some serious motivation to write smut so if anyone has any….

there’s a stillness to the room that he just can’t describe. like everything in his apartment looks so picturesque, the sun setting, a dimly lit lamp in the corner. the eery sound of quietness are odd against his ears.

the sounds of the rubber against the pavement, the whirling of drills and tools, the vibration of the car still keep his body in working mode. the endorphins swell his brain with happiness and serenity as he walks from the living room towards the bedroom.

that’s when he finally begins to hear noise.

at first it’s just the faint sound of the mattress squeaking, then, he as steps closer, he can begin to hear the headboard rattling against the wall. whatever he was feeling in his brain shot straight down to his cock and spread an aching in him.

he couldn’t stand behind this door any longer. finally pressing his palm into the knob, he pushes the door gently. his eyes are greeted with the best sight; you. legs apart, vibrator in hand, your hair sprawled across the pillow case, and the oh so sweet sounds of your whimpers are flooding his eardrums.

he can’t help it, the smile that spreads is cocky. you look pathetic and helpless, like something was clearly holding you back, and god he couldn’t wait to put you out of your misery.

you didn’t head the door open, and you certainly didn’t hear the drop of his bags, but you did feel his hand grasp yours and toss the vibrator to the side.

“lando,” you whimper softly. your eyes flutter open for a brief second, you see he’s removing his belt from his waist, and in his own eyes he has some sort of thirst and desire he can’t resist.

you don’t blame him, you’d been waiting for him. you spent all afternoon cleaning to erase your mind from the nasty thoughts you had about your boyfriend. you could still see the ass and hand prints against the shower glass, you could still recall how he fucked you until both of you came collapsing onto the floor.

every part of this house was haunted with some sort sexual memory, and you had attempted to clean it all awaiting to start new ones, but that wasn’t enough. after all that, you still felt unfulfilled. so enter the vibrator, and now, finally, there was lando.

lando’s hips grind against yours, his cock fitting nicely inside you, warmth radiates off of him. your back arches in an automatic response, your body molding up into his, he pushes you down. it’s not stern, but it wasn’t a gentle gesture either, it was still hot coming from him. possessiveness was something lando never lacked.

his thrusts become harder, nonsensical words fall from his lips that range from “I missed you” to “fucking wet” and none of them strung a proper sentence. you just allowed him to take you to the place you couldn’t quite get to with a mechanical toy, and you thank him with peppering kisses to his neck that you know you’ll get shit for tomorrow.

“never fucking do that without me.” he grunts rolling off your body to lay beside you. he takes a moment to catch his breath before sitting back up, “the place is too clean.” he states.

nodding your head you turn in his direction, “do you want to mess it up again?”

“fuck yes.”

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toyb0y-tboy · 2 months ago

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need to go to a rave dressed all slutty (shirtless, jock under short shorts, flagging, eyeshadow, full rave boy nero). get fucked up enough im super confident, flirt with dudes for drinks. start talking to a hot older guy in the smoking area, he tells me he likes the colour of my hankies, i just giggle. when we go in together to the dancefloor he gets handsy, i dont stop him. he buys me drinks and rubs powder on my gums as we're pressed up against each other in a toilet cubicle. we're in the smoking area again he calls me a fag as a joke, i let out a soft pant. his hand moves lower and lower on my back, i ask if i can tell him a fantasy. he lets out a low chuckle "of course i always wanna hear a pretty fag boys fantasy" i tense up blood rushing to my dick from my brain. i've always wanted to be fucked in a dark room, then use me as a toilet. he laughs, i can feel his breath on my face, smell his sweat warm and musky, feel his thick fingers spread out over my ass. "i love boys like you, filthy fucking freaks who seek out older pervs to fill out their fantasies" i whine a little "you want all those people to see me fuck you, then see me piss in your stupid fucking mouth" all the blood in my body is in my dick in that second, i can only let out a weak but desperate nod. "then lets make it true". we're in the dark room together bodies all around us, the techno mixing with the sounds of ecstasy around us. he laughs when he pulls down my shorts and sees the glint of my plug. my own moans, whines, pants and whimpers join in with the thumbing beat. the drugs and endorphins coursing through my body creating levels of pleasure and intensity that make my mind numb. a sting on my ass brings me back to reality, "remember fag your here for my pleasure focus on me" the pounding rhythm from behind intensifies mixing with the music becoming one. i feel the climax approaching and releasing, then cold metal my plug back mixing with the cum slowly leaking out. with a firm slap to my ass my shorts are pulled up, i move into a seating position. he turns his back to me, the straps of his jock perfectly framing his cheeks, "go on, show all these people what kind of dirty fucking boy you are". he spreads he cheeks and i lean straight in, this is my purpose to worship bigger stronger men. its what pathetic fag boys are made for. we dance and drink more, he rubs the back of my shorts spreading the mess making it more obvious what i had allowed to be done to me. "i need to piss" the toilets are busy when we get there, he simply points to the spot next to urinal and i obediently get on my knees, looking up with the man who is my god for the night. he simply spits in my mouth as he pulls his cumstained dick out, i swallow the stream ignoring the splashes on my face. i can feel the people watching, hear them laugh, even a few ask if the could get a turn. he simply laughs "i think ill get a bit more use out of him first, he not broken. yet"

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lsunstreakerl · 22 days ago

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Rico/Max first heat? Any verse is fine, but I would love FMF or canon

whoops! called you anon in the last post, sorry- goes to show my incredible ability to keep my ask box straight! anyways, this has somehow ended up longer than the first one. part two of omegaverse fmf, (part one) first with rico's POV, and ending with max's. 3.4k, explicit.

parings: rico verhoeven/max verstappen

relevant heads up: omegaverse, continuation of the dubious consent, max's incredible ability to misunderstand his relationship with rico, and criminal levels of down bad from rico.

Rico is frozen as his omega bites down. The snap of his scent gland between his teeth, and the rush of endorphins inside of him— Max is still snarling at him even with his teeth sunk into his neck, like a hound dog who'd snuck into the kitchens and stolen a chunk of meat.

His rut bears down around him, but it's controlled, a byproduct of Rico spending his entire life learning to weaponize it. It doesn't make him mindless, just sharpens his senses in a more animalistic way. He slowly lowers himself down onto Max, so that his psychotic little omega doesn't have to strain his neck as he gets Rico's blood smeared across his mouth.

He's rumbling again, because it's the only thing that's seemed to get through Max's heat brain. He hadn't wanted to tie him up, but he'd realized that Max had woven rope— and when he'd had the time to do that Rico has no idea— and the opportunity was too good to pass up.

He's not particularly interested in getting kneed in the balls again, even if Max is pretty enough to get away with it. His omega had fought viciously, really forced Rico to work for it. He's never participated in a mating run until now, and although he's watched friends go through the motions, he can't remember anyone mentioning their mates seemingly wanting them genuinely dead.

Max had been difficult to track. Once Rico had figured out he was using the river it hadn't been so bad, but finding the entrance and exit points had been a struggle, and then the cliff face—

Max's slick scent had slammed him in the face like brick. He'd momentarily lost control over his rut, and that had been just enough time for Max to slip away.

He noses at Max's scent gland as he feels the teeth in his neck loosen. His omega is whip smart and fast, and a much better grappler, even in heat, than Rico had been prepared for.

They'll have strong pups, eventually.

He scrapes his teeth gently, more a warning than anything as he gets a hand down between Max's thighs, fingers dragging through slick. There's so much of it, a sweet scent that Rico would happily down himself in.

He gets one finger into Max, who's so loose and wet that he wonders for a moment if he's even noticed. The second one goes easily, and Max twitches underneath him, pupils blown wide, blood across his mouth.

Rico pushes his scent further, almost oppressively thick in the air around them as he gets a third finger inside, licking over Max's neck. His omega seems to appreciate that, if the way he falls into submission is any indication. His head tips back, jaw exposed as Rico feels him clench around his fingers, a soft whine escaping him.

He rumbles again, slowly working his fingers as he gets Max used to his mouth on his neck. Mating bites can be pleasurable— although Rico's is giving him a dull throb, either from the force of the bite or the unmatched bond.

It's fine. He doesn't mind being patient, if it means that Max feels secure. If biting Rico first is what he needed, Rico doesn't mind. He's only knotting Max here on the ground once.

He hadn't wanted to do it in the forest at all, but Karim had made a big fuss about tradition, and Rico doesn't particularly want to get into an argument with the head of House Verstappen. The man makes him uneasy.

He spreads his fingers wide, crooning lowly as Max twitches, blinking up at him. There's barely a sliver of blue ringing around his pupils, and he seems confused, like he'd expected more of a reaction for biting.

Rico really doesn't mind— he's had worse bites from the strays around the castle. His omega is far gone, tied up in the woods in heat, and Rico doesn't want this to take any longer then it has to, but he doesn't want to go too fast and hurt Max either.

There's the bare bones of a nest waiting for them back home, and all the materials Max could want. Martijn is supposed to be gathering scented materials from his own delegate to take back with them.

He mouths at Max's neck again, privately smug when his omega simply shivers, head tilting back to exposure his neck further. It's much better than the angry snarls or the terrified whining of before, and Rico's careful as he fucks him slowly with his fingers, slipping in his pinky as well.

He's not small by any means, and he doesn't want Max to be uncomfortable on his knot, which means he's checking that he's ready, even in heat.

Max whimpers softly, hips twitching. He's got his jaw clamped shut tight, a small act of defiance, but Rico doesn't mind. If he does his job right, Max will crack open underneath him anyways, cresting with pleasure through his heat. It's just another test.

Despite his self control, there's a tightness at the base of his skull, his rut hot in his veins. The thrill of the hunt had been deeply satisfying, but now he wants to take.

He shoves it back down.

Max's breathing is getting ragged, scent sweetening and spiraling as Rico finally gets his cock out, heavy and hot in his hand. He keeps his mouth on Max's neck, over his scent gland— he's going to bite when he knots him, to blur the line between the pain and the pleasure, make it as easy for his omega as possible.

He lets his teeth scrape over his neck, pushing his scent and rumbling at the same time, enough that Max instinctively relaxes as Rico slides inside of him. He'd debated going slowly or not, but with an omega in heat, he didn't want to take too long and risk Max hurting himself trying to get more.

Max yelps as Rico pushes halfway in one smooth motion, wiggling underneath him. He croons softly, sucking at Max's neck to distract him, deeply satisfied at the moan he gets for his efforts. Omegas are built for this kind of thing— they want to be submissive, even a volatile, slightly psychotic omega like Max. He's been lashing out because he's scared, and he thinks Rico is going to hurt him.

Rico just has to prove him wrong. All he has to do is bite him and knot him, and then they can head home, but Max is too far gone to explain that properly, which means all Rico can do is show him.

He rolls his hips, lips pressing against Max's neck. There's a soft gasp near his ear, his omega's scent curling around him. There's more pleasure to it now than fear, even if he's still bound underneath him.

Max's scent is all he can smell, all he can taste on his tongue, face buried into his neck like a man starved as he nips gently, pushing a few more inches in. His omega is taking him well, small little moans escaping him. He's forgetting to keep his mouth shut, slowly falling further as Rico fucks into him, and Rico can't smother the pleased notes in his own scent.

Max responds to it well, moaning loudly when Rico gets flush to his hips, whispering soft praise into his throat, pressing kisses to the thin skin below his ear.

"Alpha—"

Rico rumbles loudly, free hand mapping out Max's body underneath him, skimming his waist, his hip and his thigh. His other hand is still braced behind Max's head, and it hadn't budged even when Max had reared up and bit him.

His King's Guard likes to call him paranoid, but he has no interest in going to all this effort just for his lovely, batshit insane omega to accidentally smash his head into a rock.

Max is perfect underneath him, relaxed under his hands and on his cock, scent mellowing out slightly. It'll even out more when he's on a knot, and Rico can check him for injuries then. He wouldn't put it past him to have somehow collected an assortment in the process of the hunt.

He can feel his knot starting to form, catching at Max with each thrust. He's starting to squirm underneath him, eyes desperate as his scent goes rich with need, mouth dropping open in a low moan.

Rico rumbles, fitting his teeth lightly over his omega's scent gland as he keeps the same pace. It's doing it for Max, so he's not going to adjust it any, not when Max is finally pliant underneath him, pleased noises being worked out of him.

His knot swells, and he croons lowly at Max as he thrusts in one more time, and Max cries out, tipping his chin back, exposing the pale lines of his throat, the smattering of freckles.

"Alpha, alpha need it—"

Rico knows.

His teeth sink in as Max is flush to his hips, scent gland snapping under his mouth, and he can feel his omega convulse underneath him, moaning high and long. The bond is a physical feeling tugging him closer to Max's chest, kissing softly at his neck as they both come down from the high.

The rut is less oppressive in his head, enough for him to feel bad that Max is still bound. He works one hand around to deftly untie the knots, carefully sitting them upright. He's cautious to make sure he doesn't tug at Max at all, arranging him in his lap.

Max makes a soft noise, nose tucking into Rico's neck. His bite mark is still throbbing, but he knows now that's just from his omega's teeth— the mating bond feels solid between them.

There's exhaustion, the tiniest threads of anxiety, but they're fading by the minute, overshadowed by a deep contentment that must be from himself, and a fuzzy haze that must belong to Max.

He runs his hands slowly across his omega— his mate— searing for any nicks or cuts. There's not many besides the few scrapes across his face, and he relaxes.

By the time his knot starts to go down, in what could have been minutes or hours later, Rico has decided he would die for him.

Max had, at some point, started softly purring against his chest, and it had made him feel a starburst of emotions, too much for him to handle at once. It was the kind of feeling he would go to war over, if it meant getting to experience it again, and he'd contented himself with pressing soft kisses across his omega's hairline, down the bridge of his nose and across his cheeks.

Max had hazily blinked at him before dozing back off.

Now, he gingerly pulls out, fingers reaching for the scattered components of Max's leather armor as he begins to strap it back on. He's hoping he's remembering it all correctly. The mating bond has done wonders for his rut— it feels less wild inside of him, now that he has a focus on getting Max back home to their den. It's sharper, more targeted.

Max is still foggy with it, although Rico can feel the soft snares of awareness threading lightly through the bond. Max could snap to alertness if he needed to, but his instincts are soothed by the presence of Rico carrying him.

Rico presses another light kiss to his forehead as he checks that they're both as put back together as they can be, keeping Max close to his chest as he stands. He can smell the fires not too far away— it had been difficult to tell before, but now with his rut sharpened to a fine point, focused on taking care of his mate, they're clear as day.

Max is purring in his arms as they walk. He'd squirmed tiredly in Rico's arms before pressing his nose into his neck, hair brushing against his jaw.

The campfires finally come into view. Rico hadn't realized he was still tense until he relaxes, smelling his pack waiting for them. Max's people are nearby, and the smaller alpha— the one who'd given him a murderous glare when he'd initially sniffed Max to catch his scent— curls his lip in a snarl.

Rico bristles, his own lip lifting, showcasing a flash of fang, and something must alert Max through the bond— he rapidly blinks his eyes, struggling to fight back to awareness. Rico immediately forgets the smaller alpha, crooning lowly at his omega.

"Sorry, that was— it's dumb. We're fine, sweetheart. It's okay."

He can smell his pack on one side, cautiously approaching. They're wary of his protective instincts, even if they don't need to be. Rico trusts them with his life, and Max eventually will as well. The older alpha approaching, however...

He widens his stance, trying not to let any negative feelings push through the bond, even though he doesn't like the other man.

"I'm not coming any closer, Your Highness. He's yours now. I just wanted to ensure he didn't cause you too much trouble?"

Rico's jaw tightens. Max caused him plenty of trouble— that was what had made it wonderful. He's clearly not doing a good job of keeping his temper in check, because Martijn sidles up beside him, smiling pleasantly.

"Rico's got a tough gourd. No issues, really— or we would've heard him complaining the whole way back."

Normally Rico's willing to laugh at himself a bit, but he can't even bring himself to break eye contract with Jos, staring down the smaller alpha.

He lifts his hands, stepping back as he dips his head.

"Pleasure doing business, Your Highness."

Max catches a hint of Jos' scent in the wind, and Rico can feel a thread of anxiety ratchet up in his chest through the bond. It's more than enough to snap his already thin patience.

"You're dismissed."

He realizes a moment later that Martijn is projecting his neutral scent, keeping him less agitated. He waits until the northern delegate has set off before leaning into the beta gratefully.

"Thank you."

Martijn hums, tilting his head to get a better look at Max, curious.

"He gave you a good fight, huh? You look beat up."

Rico makes a face.

"Those thighs are not decoration— he's got a mean kick."

Karim snorts off to his left, and Rico tosses him a halfhearted glare as they pack their things.

"Did you get items for his nest?"

Martijn grins, patting a pack on the back of his horse.

"Yup! Nothing from his dad— the little alpha, Mick, said that wasn't a good idea— but some stuff from the rest of his pack."

He pauses, lips turning downwards as he looks at Max again.

"It's not much."

Rico can feel the pack bond in his chest trying to curl into the mating bond, the curiosity of his most trusted people. They love Rico, it only makes sense they'll love his mate, but they understand it might be slow going.

He nods, keeping Max close as Karim drapes a cloak over him in Rico's arms. Dennis is waiting next to Rico's horse, peering quietly at his omega, and then at the bite mark on his neck, snorting softly.

"He took a chunk out of you, kid."

Rico grins, preening.

"He really did— I wasn't expecting it either, I'd thought he was submitting."

Dennis grins, rumbling lowly.

"Good. About time you met your match."

The older alpha claps him on the shoulder gently, and he helps Rico saddle up, careful not to jostle Max too much. The sharp thread of anxiety from Jos' presence has faded, and Max is back to breathing into Rico's neck, soft puffs of air tickling his skin.

Rico feels settled with his mate in his arms, surrounded by his pack. They'd had to leave a few people to watch the castle, but his heart of hearts— they're all here. It's not entirely safe, not yet, not until Rico can get Max settled into his nest, coax him apart between the stalwart stone walls of his den.

Soon.

------

Max remembers bits and pieces. He remembers a mad dash through the woods, the icy cold of a river, remembers the spiced scent of rut— but he doesn't remember any pain.

He remembers being laid out in the dirt, and there's an embarrassing flash of memory he hopes isn't real of him begging.

None of that matters at the moment, because his heat breaks inside unfamiliar walls, panting as he comes down from an orgasm he barely remembers. His thighs are shaking, ankles hooked together behind a large neck, and he's sore, but there's large hands running soothingly across his legs, and despite everything that should be scaring him right now—

The fear just isn't there.

He swallows, legs twitching as he tries to close them. He expects the alpha between his legs to refuse, but he's surprised to find easy acceptance.

There's a solid weight in his chest that he doesn't recognize. It feels... nice. There's a certain warmth to it, and he realizes as the alpha shifts back up the bed that it seems connected, somehow.

His jaw cracks as he yawns, trying to put things together. He feels more settled in his own skin than he's felt in years, and he's—

He's in a nest.

The alpha watching him patiently is the King.

The realizations hit him at once, anxiety flooding his body, and before he can work himself into a proper panic, the weight in his chest settles. There's a pleasant scent in a room, a low noise by Max's ear, and he's having a hard time remembering why he would want to freak out about anything.

"Easy, Max. You wake up fast."

Max looks over at King Verhoeven, face flushing a vibrant red as he spots the bite mark deep into his neck. It's absolutely going to scar, and he's mildly afraid that he's about to be killed for it—

"Max."

It's not quite a command, but there's a low note of heavy suggestion, yanking Max from him thoughts as he instinctively bares his neck for his mate.

His eyebrows furrow, everything screeching to a halt. The woods, the river grass ropes, the bite, the knot.

He touches his fingers gingerly to his own neck, tracing the scabbed edges over his own scent gland.

"I thought— you mated me."

His voice comes out more incredulous than he'd like, and King Verhoeven tilts his head curiously, eyes sparkling.

"I did, yes. You gave a thrilling hunt, Max. And you've got some sharp teeth."

Max doesn't understand.

"But I'm a concubine."

The shock that rips through his chest isn't his own, and he struggles with it for a moment, grappling to get it under control before he realizes it belongs to Rico.

When did he think of him as Rico? Max can feel it through what must be the bond, the same way Rico must be able to have felt Max's heat break.

He scoots closer to Max, wrist pressing against his neck as he's scented thoroughly. The shock has turned to confusion, which has turned to a quiet anger.

"Who told you that?"

Max bristles.

"I didn't need to be told, that's just— that's how it works."

Rico leans forward slowly, pressing their foreheads together in a gesture that leaves Max feeling cracked open and raw.

"No, Max. You're not a concubine. I don't have any other omegas, I only— I only wanted one. A mate."

Max can feel that he means it. He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, tipping his head down to nose at the mating bite.

"I, ah,"

He feels a bit embarrassed about it now, knowing there were no other omegas.

"Sorry for biting you so hard."

Rico rumbles lowly, and Max is surprised to find that the bond simply seems pleased.

"I wasn't expecting it, but... it's fitting. I like it for us, although I have to wonder, if you thought you were a concubine— why'd you bite me?"

Max flushes, deliberately looking away.

"I wanted to have something none of the others could get."

He keeps his voice soft, but his words ring true. Rico croons at him, affection dripping from his scent.

"There are no others, sweetheart. Just you, and you made your mark so thoroughly it would be impossible to miss."

Max still feels embarrassed about it. He startles slightly when Rico's palm rests between his shoulders, but he finds a pleased purr rising in his chest.

There's too much information he needs to digest, next steps to take, people to meet— but for now, he's content to curl in the nest with his alpha.

His mate.

#ficlet #tagging it fmf even if it's not technically #fmf verse #omegaverse #see why max was an unreliable narrator? see?#thinking rico is bad when the dude is the most Wife Guy possibly ever #anyways this has not been thoroughly spellchecked #I'll look in the morning #please graciously ignore any typos mwah

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bunnyreaper · 2 years ago

Text

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘

𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰

𝖕𝖙 5 — 𝖕𝖙 4 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

wc - 7.6k

warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom/sub dynamic, petplay (as always), thigh riding, pussy eating, johnny gives reader a piggyback ride.

notes - it's here! and my life and health is worse for it, but it's here! please don't expect the next part any time soon, but thank you to those patiently waiting ♥ also on ao3! ♥

"Told you, pet, this mouth is mine now."

Johnny's mouth continues its loving assault on yours, overwhelming you with his kisses. It's filled with the same passion as the first time, but now Johnny's heat seeps straight from his bones and into you.

His hands fall to your wrists, his touch warm and caressing and pinning you ever so slightly in place—just enough to keep you still, not enough to really restrict you.

It's Johnny who pulls away from you, an exhaled fuck falling from his lips—your eyes flutter open to meet his, the baby blues flooded with lust.

His gaze flickers to your lips before he whispers. "I dinnae want to stop kissing ye."

He steals your breath with both the words and the feeling of his lips when they return to yours, each slide against you as if he's stealing them, afraid he won't get another for too long. Though with Johnny, you get the feeling any second your lips aren't connected to his are ones he wishes for nothing else.

"Yeah, fuck..." You sigh as Johnny pulls away, his grip loosening as his forehead settles against yours.

Neither of you can fight the smiles on your faces, as you both bask in each other's joy, and the rush of endorphins and arousal running through you.

Johnny always makes you feel electric.

He laughs breathlessly, eyes sparkling with mirth as you can see him try to restrain himself. "'Spose I should let ye get settled first before I ravage ye."

"I have no complaints if you don't." You giggle in return, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before willing yourself to pull away too. "But yeah, probably a good idea."

If both of you had less self-control, you had no doubts the tension could have pushed you into rutting in the entryway like rabid dogs, only managing to bare yourselves just enough to have Johnny sink inside you. From the look in his eyes and the feeling of his hardness pressed against you, he wants to take you here and now—but he's nothing if not a gentleman.

You have no doubt that your own glassy eyes and soaked panties betray your need just the same, and there's a desperate, animalistic part of your brain that wants to drag him inside by the belt so that you can fall to your knees before him.

Johnny straightens himself up, taking ahold of your hand and preparing to head into the flat proper. "Want the tour of the place?"

You nod eagerly. "Of course."

You pull your hand free for just a moment to abandon your shoes by the door-—leaving them amongst the existing pile of boots, which Johnny only adds to with his own.

With your hands reconnected and fingers intertwined, he guides you into the warmth of the flat.

"I mean, the place is tiny, so it won't take long." He jokes, as he pulls you in further and throws his keys on the countertop. "Tada, living room and kitchen all in one."

You take in the open space around you—the room flooded with moonlight and a faint glow from under the kitchen cupboards, as well as a lamp that's lit in the corner. The ceilings are high, and the floors are wooden—the kitchen and living room combined to create a large, albeit cosy room.

"Nice and spacious! I like that it's open plan." You coo, as Johnny paces forward, and you allow him to guide you. Your eyes rove over everything, from the well-worn couch to the framed photos of him and his squad, or the pictures of wild-eyed kids that can only be Johnny's nieces and nephews.

"Aye. Can have ye curled up on the couch while am cooking, terribly, mind ye." Johnny nudges you playfully with his hip, drawing your attention back to the radiant smile on his face.

You follow him down a small corridor with doors on both sides. The door to the left opens into a bathroom with a large, walk-in, waterfall shower, illuminated with soft lighting when Johnny flicks the switch.

"Bathroom, with no bath." He explains, before his expression flickers to something briefly resembling a kicked puppy. "Bit sad about tha'."

"Are you a bath man?" You ask, your mind visualising the muscular man indulging in rich aromas and piles of bubbles—it serves as quite the entertaining mental image. And then your mind flickers to him in the shower, water cascading down his toned body, knots in his shoulders just begging for relaxation...

"Absolutely. And if yer not into baths, I think I know just the way to convert ye." His hand squeezes yours playfully as he throws you a wink, and you're left wondering if he could somehow sense that your thoughts have turned dirty.

"I like the sound of that."

Finally, you cross the hallway into the bedroom—a room filled with a mixture of earth tones and navy blues, the place is clean and tidy, beside the pile of clothes and various other things piled onto the chair in the corner.

"And where we'll be staying, unless you'd prefer I sleep on the couch."

You don't miss the sheepish look on his face, the look that tells you that sleeping apart from you is the last thing he'd rather do tonight—but you know that he'd do it in a heartbeat if you asked.

Stepping closer into his space, you lace your other hand in his and sway them back and forth, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I will be falling asleep on your chest. That's non-negotiable, Johnny."

"I'm glad tae hear." He pushes himself forward to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment after. "Can be ma little blanket for the night."

"... But aye, that's about it." He gestures to the room with one of your intertwined hands.

"It's cosy here, I like it." You comment with a smile, taking in the welcoming atmosphere of the room—the hints that the place is lived in.

Johnny comments as he moves closer to your ear—his breath warm as it flutters over your skin. "Hopefully, the first visit of many."

"I hope so too. I'll be leaving my toothbrush here before you know it."

You pull yourself from Johnny's hold, falling back onto the mattress and allowing your dress to ride up your legs as you prop yourself up on your elbows and stare at Johnny temptingly.

Your eyes trail over his body, savouring every delicious inch that is John MacTavish. His eyes chart a similar path, following up your exposed thighs.

"Anyway, I think I'm all settled in now." You purr, trying to coax him back into kissing you like he was earlier.

"Steamin' jesus." He all but growls as he comes closer, crawling over you and leaning down near to your lips as his arms cage you in. "Someone's a needy pup."

With his face hovering inches from yours, you relish the opportunity to drink him all in. His baby blues sparkle with lust and fondness as they peer down at you, slightly hidden behind hooded lids. His eyelashes flutter so prettily, bouncing off his sweet, stubbled cheeks.

Your eyes fall to his soft lips, the scar underlining them that you want to trace your thumb and tongue across—learn the story of.

"Kiss me again, Johnny, please." You whisper softly, as one of his hands begins to stroke the top of your head.

"Askin' so nicely, how can I say no?" He smirks one last time before closing the gap, both of your eyes fluttering shut as your lips finally reconnect.

There's never a moment when Johnny's lips don't feel heavenly—he kisses you like a man starved and allows his hips to falter and press against your core. His clothed erection rubs against your centre, the denim pushing across your thin panties and sending your brain spinning.

It's instinct when you buck your hips up into his, chasing more contact from his throbbing length. The more time you spend around Johnny, the more intoxicated you become on his presence—your hesitations melt away, replaced by an overwhelming need that's only sated when Johnny is pressed against you.

The moan that leaves your throat is entirely accidental, but causes Johnny to buck against you and groan right back at you—after the moment of slipped control, he stills.

"Bonnie..." Johnny pulls away, a soft, hesitant look in his eyes as he tries his hardest to hold back. "I meant what I said about not expecting anything."

For a moment, you feel awful, like a temptress pushing him to the limits of his self-restraint—but your own desires swirl inside you dangerously, with every moment with Johnny only adding fuel to the fire.

The fact Johnny can want you so passionately and still remain firmly in charge of the both of you only reinforces the disgustingly puppylike crush you have on him.

"I know. I'm just enjoying kissing you properly." You sigh before taking a deep breath to release some of your pent-up arousal.

"Aye, me too." He continues to stroke at the top of your head as his thumb brushes across your warm cheek, making you shiver. "Hard to keep ma hands to myself."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Your hands rake down his chest, slowing once you feel the hardness of his abs beneath the cotton.

Johnny's hand falls to clutch your wrists, stilling your exploration of his body. The look in his eyes is all cheek and charm. "I should get you fed."

"Boo."

The look turns ever so slightly warning. "Pup, Johnny knows best, aye?"

"To the kitchen!" You announce cheerfully, breaking through the tension of the moment and redirecting the both of you before you end up wrapping your legs around Johnny and refusing to let go until he's spilled himself inside you.

With a breathy laugh, Johnny stands from the bed, turning around and offering his back for you to climb upon. When he finally has you safely stowed on him, his fingers gripping at your thighs as your arms wrap around his neck, he carries you to the kitchen.

Johnny doesn't let you back down to the floor immediately, instead heading to the fridge with you still clinging to him like a koala.

"Probably should've asked ye what toppings you wanted, but I just grabbed a bit of everything." He explains as he opens the door and reveals a shelf bursting with cheeses, vegetables, and meats.

You quickly scan the shelf for any nasty surprises like the anchovies or olives Johnny had mentioned on the way over, and find yourself relieved that everything on offer is delicious—with some of your favourite pizza toppings even there. "So much choice, and nothing disgusting, I'm surprised, Johnny."

"Hey now, I do have taste... sometimes." The pout in his voice is evident as he shuffles you further up his back before removing the hold of one of his hands to start removing the dough, sauce, and toppings so he can set them atop the counter.

Your eyes fall to the rest of the shelves, with the vast majority of them being stacked with the same plastic poultry liners. "Johnny, your fridge is 90% plain chicken breast, I'm not sure that I trust that."

"Well, actually, some of that is turkey." He smirks, until you lean forward into his sight-line with a grumpy look on your face. "Dinnae go glaring at me, bonnie girl."

"Clearly I need to be fed so I have less of an attitude." You huff, playfully teasing him about his earlier interruption to your fun.

Johnny finally lowers you to the ground, setting you beside him before he grabs the final few ingredients. "I'm working on it!"

With everything ready and set out, you start to plan out the deliciousness that will be your creation. Everything Johnny picked out is fresh and delicious, and almost calling out to you to be a part of your meal. You rush to wash your hands so you can get started.

"I feel like I'm gonna pick too many toppings and my pizza will just be a mess." You explain as you start to open a few packets while Johnny moves to the sink. "What are you having?"

"Lil bit of everything, why no'?" He shrugs, the smile on his face wide and infectious.

"I'm so excited!" You giggle, already thoroughly enjoying your little pizza party with Johnny. As you watch Johnny dry his hands and then begin to work the dough, a mischievous thought pops into your head. "It's a shame we didn't make the dough from scratch, though."

As soon as Johnny looks at you, he knows exactly where your thoughts have headed, and his face splits with an amused grin. "So ye could throw flour at me?"

"Flour fight, exactly." You nod.

Johnny sets down the dough, moving into your space and grabbing you by the hips to spin you to face him. He looms over you— grin now devilish, eyes sharp and tone teasing. "I'd win, hen, dinnae think otherwise."

You bite your lip, staring up at Johnny and shivering under his touch. "Hmm, you'd be covered in flour and looking so good, so I think I'd really be the winner."

"Next time, then." He purrs as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. He pulls away after a few moments, yet lingers in your space and sends heat rushing through your veins.

"I suppose I could still smear sauce all over you." You tease, your arousal making you even more daring and flirtatious.

"Just askin' fer trouble with tha'." He growls, pulling you flush against his body as he pulls his lip between his teeth.

"Oh no... how terrible."

One hand moves in a flash, slapping lightly and groping at your ass as Johnny rubs himself against you. "Ye won't be saying that when yer arse is red raw." He groans in your ear.

"You wouldn't be spanking me when I'm too busy licking the sauce off your face." You giggle, squirming under his touch. Brattiness isn't your usual go-to around Johnny, but sometimes he just inspires it.

"Dirty fuckin' pup." He growls, his voice almost feral and animalistic in the way it rips from his throat.

He holds your gaze, commanding you with just a look as he removes his hands and leans to the counter. He returns with the jar, popping open the lid with ease before offering it to you.

"Go awn then." He commands, his expression serious as he urges the jar closer to you.

You glance between him and the jar, uncertain of what he's asking for a moment before the realisation hits—he's making you cover him in the sauce.

The moment stretches on in the heavy silence, as Johnny stares you down with an expectant look, waiting for you to comply. You timidly dip your finger into the sauce, hand trembling as you move to swipe it across Johnny's cheek. You assume he's going to messily return the favour, but he just continues to hold your gaze.

"Now lick it." He whispers, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You can't help but comply, pushing yourself up close to his face and darting out your tongue just enough to clean his stubbled cheek.

It's then he grips you again, stilling you in place as you're draped across his body. "Good fucking girl." He purrs, and then returns the favour—gripping your cheek with one hand and smearing your face with sauce with the other.

Then he licks you, long tongue trailing slowly up your cheek and leaving you wet and squirming.

"Johnny, ew!" You giggle wildly, almost feeling tickled by his tongue against your skin.

"Ew? Really, lass? Won't be saying tha' later when it's my tongue in yer cunt." He makes sure his lips brush against the shell of your ear as he continues to tease you with his words. "Won't be sayin' tha' later when I have ye slobbering all over my cock."

He punctuates the last sentence by pulling you tight against him once more, making you feel the weight of his throbbing cock against you. You find your self-control rapidly slipping once more, especially when his lips dip to press kisses to the bare expense of your neck.

"Mercy, please." You squeal, attempting to wiggle free from his hold. "Otherwise, we might have to abandon the pizzas."

Luckily, Johnny is feeling kind as he pulls away and gives you space—yet the glint in his eye remains.

"Mercy, for now."

You and Johnny try your best to focus on making the pizzas without further incident—listening to early 2000s pop punk and exchanging little bits and pieces of conversation. He informs you that his Captain's house is more in the countryside and has a proper brick pizza oven in the garden that gets used precisely once a year when he throws a birthday party for Gaz.

It makes you chuckle how Johnny seems to enthuse about how much better the pizzas are when they aren't made in his "shitty little electric oven". It also makes your heart swell when Johnny mentions how Gaz's birthday is just around the corner, and that you have to come with him to the party.

When Johnny pulls your pizzas from the oven, you're surprised to see they both managed to cook well despite the pile of toppings and cheese.

The two of you eat your gooey pizzas as you curl up on the couch and watch an episode of Midsomer Murders. Admittedly, you'd been sceptical at first, and a little confused as to why a man in his late 20s was so into a show you watched growing up with your aunt. Then you heard his enthusiasm for solving the cases, and couldn't bring yourself to care about the slightly amateurish acting or the way the theme tune reminded you of the smell of her house.

When you realise halfway through that you're pretty sure Johnny's guesswork about the case is wrong, you feel your puppy love grow at least ten sizes, and say nothing as you watch the misguided enthusiasm and smugness sparkle in his eyes.

After a second episode finishes, you ready yourself to head back to the kitchen with the plates but find yourself stilled as Johnny grabs your wrist.

"Do you not want help with the dishes?" You ask, head tilted slightly in confusion.

"Maybe later." Johnny pulls you back down onto the couch before fixing you with a look that makes your cheeks flush. His hand finds its way to your face, cupping your burning skin as his thumb traces over your lips with intent.

"Oh, later, I see." You can't help but smile, and Johnny's thumb chases the newfound curve of your lips.

A lustful fire ignites in the pit of your stomach as you watch Johnny's eyes fixate on your lips, and you notice his pupils are blooming with arousal.

It's instinctual and automatic, the way you feel your body call out to connect with Johnny's once more, and you give in to the magnetic pull as you climb into his lap and settle atop him. Your hands curl around the thick column of the back of his neck, steadying yourself as you squirm around to get comfortable.

Johnny's large hands cling to your hips—a warning grip stilling you as his cock stirs to life underneath your core and pushes harsh denim against the soft cotton of your panties.

"Bonnie." The word is growled, yet wrapped in playfulness, as his eyes flare with warning and his fingers continue to dig into the plush of your hips.

"Yes?" You coo innocently.

"Careful now."

"I just want to kiss you." You whine, while resisting the urge to grind down on Johnny's length. Instead, your lips fall to kiss his stubbled jaw, and the protruding veins on the side of his neck. "Can't get enough of you."

Your own words break the dam of your self-restraint, as you give in to your urges and chase the bolts of pleasure that course through you, nudging your clit back and forth against the cock you crave so badly.

"Neither can I." He whispers brusquely, the words sounding throatier as you continue to kiss him and writhe against him. His hands guide your hips along your path, each thrust earning you a growl from deep within his chest. "Ye drive me mad, steamin' fuckin' jesus."

Your hips continue to writhe on instinct, addicted to the feeling of rocking on Johnny's bulge and the way the sensation ebbs at consciousness and makes your brain cottony around the edges. You nuzzle into Johnny's neck, seeking comfort and closeness as you continue to slip deeper and deeper.

"Johnny, I'm going crazy, I need you." Your words are whined against his skin, desperate pleas appealing to his baser instincts, practically begging him to just give in and take you already. The impulsive voice in the back of your head chants his name over and over again, as it always does.

This time it's stronger, overwhelmingly so, as you're wrapped in his arms and able to melt into his touch.

"Ya have me, pet." He whispers—holding you close, nuzzling you back, and pressing the gentlest of kisses to the top of your head. "'m all yours."

Johnny continues working his hips up into your core, meeting you thrust for thrust and grind for grind. The sensation of your bodies meeting draws groans from his throat, each erratic connection making you both tremble.

Your eyes meet, an intense connection as Johnny's eyes search yours—him seeming to read every little flicker of emotion within them. Whatever he sees there spurs him into action, as he repositions his grip and redirects you—widening his legs before he pushes you down against his thick, denim-clad thigh.

"Tha's better." He sighs, immediately moving your hips again for you, rubbing your pussy across his muscle and giving you much-needed contact.

You find your rhythm quickly, working with Johnny to build delicious friction—the heightened sensations and connection have you overly sensitive, your blood fizzing all over your body just at being able to grind against Johnny. You know he's going to ruin you when things really start to escalate. You also know you're not going to last long at all.

"Humping my thigh like a good pup." Johnny groans as he buries himself into the crook of your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin—you tilt your head to accommodate him getting access to wherever his mouth pleases.

"Gonna leave a wet spot." You feel the way your wet panties are clinging to your folds and know some of your arousal is leaking through to the denim beneath.

Johnny growls, his thigh pushing up to meet you more firmly, as if begging to be soiled further. "Go awn, soak ma jeans."

"Johnny..."

"Sound so pretty whinin' fer me, whimperin'." He purrs straight into your ear, making your back arch as your skin tingles all over. "Gonna bark for me?"

You quickly shake your head before hiding in Johnny's chest, cheeks ablaze. "'m shy." You whisper, hoping said reservedness won't disappoint him.

One of Johnny's hands makes its way up your body, stopping to stroke the top of your head soothingly. "It's okay, pup, it'll come." He reassures you, not let down in the slightest. "Jus' keep grinding."

Your hips move with renewed fervour, chasing the rapidly building high that twists and coils in your stomach. Pleasure radiates out from your core, flowing through your veins and clouding your brain—refocusing yourself entirely on being good for Johnny.

"Feels good?" Johnny asks in response to your escalating whines and moans. "Use yer words for me."

Words are hard to form when your throat is so tightened and your mind so blissed out, but you have to obey. Each thrust pushes you closer and closer to the edge, closer to your reward. The tension between you and Johnny has been building for so long, with your need rapidly spiralling from the moment the two of you first started talking.

You need the release, need to cum under Johnny's touch and command—finally let him into your mind where his commands will make their home. As your thighs tremble around Johnny's, you force yourself to summon the strength to lift your head, to use your words just like Johnny had asked.

"Feels good, so close." You admit, voice not above a whisper as you get hypnotised by the sparkling blue eyes that are hidden by hooded lids.

Johnny is looking at you like he's going to devour you, and all you've done so far is rub your slick cunt all over his thigh. You shiver with the thought of just how much more intensity can build between you—you wonder how you're going to survive it.

"Needy pup, want ye tae cum fer me. Jus' fer me." One of Johnny's hands now cups your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes locked onto his as you continue to writhe wildly against him.

His words push you so much closer, your brain waiting for his word as you try your hardest to not cum even a second before he tells you too.

"Can ye do that, pet?"

You nod mindlessly as your body goes into overdrive, the pressure making your body coil tighter as your brain finally fizzles out of any coherent thought. All you can do is keep your eyes fixed on Johnny, as you replay his words over and over in your head.

Pet. Pup. Hump. Whine.

Operating entirely on instinct, your mouth falls open, tongue lolling out as you pant and whine—right on the edge, waiting. As if in your thoughts, Johnny senses that you're right at the edge, as his thigh tenses to be the perfect surface for you to rub against, and his hand forces your cunt down even more snugly before.

"Pretty pup, tha's it." He coos, voice dripping with sweet, gentle authority. "Cum fer me."

With his command finally whispered, you buck one more and fly over the edge, straight into the ecstasy of a blinding orgasm—one that's weeks in the making.

Johnny continues to coax you through it, whispered praise and encouragement accompanying every little aftershock until you practically collapse against his chest.

"Oh my god, that was..." You struggle to breathe, still struggle to think as you sink into Johnny's embrace. "I needed that, thank you."

Soft touches adorn every inch of your body, Johnny petting you sweetly and embracing the sensitivity of your skin in the afterglow. "My pleasure. Ye were such a good girl fer me."

"Sorry about your jeans. And you not—"

Johnny doesn't let you finish your unnecessary apologies. "Dinnae be."

He pulls you even closer, arms wrapping around your waist and back and holding you in a tight, reassuring embrace as the both of you come back down to normalcy. You can practically feel the smile on Johnny's lips with every kiss against your forehead, and his unbridled joy is still radiating off of him when you finally lean up to reconnect your lips with his.

After a few sweet pecks, you find yourself burrowing back into his chest as you try to suppress a yawn.

"Tired, bonnie?" Johnny asks, voice quiet.

You respond simply with a gentle nod.

"Let's get you to bed, then." He chuckles, tapping the backs of your thighs to encourage you to stand.

You can't help but whine just a little, entirely resistant to moving even if Johnny's bed is only a short walk away. "It's too early to sleep." You try to reason, even if you have no clue of the time.

Johnny presses another kiss to your forehead—his smirk cheeky and eyes bright. "Who said we'd be sleeping?"

With assistance from Johnny, you sleepily stumble to his bedroom and immediately plop yourself down on the edge of the mattress while Johnny fetches your forgotten bags from the entryway.

Your orgasm has left you a little boneless and ignited an even stronger craving for connection with Johnny. He parts from you for even a moment, and your body calls out to be cuddled up with him again.

Luckily, he returns quickly, setting the bag down beside you so you can sleepily rifle through the bag for your pyjamas.

When you finally locate the silky set, you urge yourself off the bed and head for the bathroom. Johnny stops you by the wrists before you can reach the door.

"Where are ye going?" He asks, an adorable look of confusion on his face.

"To get changed." You explain, trying to stop your voice from trembling with nerves. Despite just cumming on this man's thigh, there's something startling about the vulnerability of changing before him that makes your walls shoot up and your body stiffen.

Johnny's thumb runs over your wrist, as his expression softens, and he releases his hold.

"'s okay." He nods, turning to grab his own pyjama bottoms and beating you out of the door to the bathroom, leaving you in the comfort of his room. "Shout me when yer done, aye?"

The door clicks shut behind Johnny, as your heart fills with warmth at his easy and sweet accommodation of you.

You slip off your dress first, folding it semi-neatly and slipping into the bag before you opt to slip off your panties too—they're still soaked through from your earlier activities and were clinging to your folds almost uncomfortably. You quickly shimmy on the matching silk set—cute shorts with a cami top, as you try to remember the confidence you felt when trying the set on.

You call out to Johnny, beckoning him back into the room and hoping his reaction to your outfit is everything you could hope for.

When Johnny slips round the door, his eyes almost jump out of his head—though you're sure yours are doing the same. "Fuckin' christ, bonnie."

Your eyes rake down Johnny's body just as he does you—his chest is bare, and his plaid pyjama bottoms are slung low on his hips. You can't tear your eyes away, as they dart around taking in every little feature—the broad muscles, slight dusting of hair, or constellation of scars and freckles all down his torso. It's hard to decide which part of him is the most delicious, the most deserving of your eyes' attention.

"Christ yourself." You whisper, completely in awe.

Johnny steps forward, taking your hands in his and pulling you into his warmth. His smile is adoring, his eyes showing nothing but reverence as he takes in every detail of you—you wonder if he's recognised just what you've done.

"You look so good, I wanna eat you." His words are purred into your neck as he presses kisses along your skin, and his hands slip all over your silky skin and barely-there clothes. His hands find their way to the hem of your top, pausing slightly as if asking for consent.

"Johnny..." You whine as you turn your head nervously, shielding your embarrassed expression from view and desperately hoping you don't have to explain yourself further.

He cups your jaw tenderly, without any intention of turning you to face him. His voice is just as considerate. "Nervous?"

"I know it's silly, but..." You trail off, unable to finish your sentence.

I'm scared you won't like what you see.

I'm scared you'll leave once you get what you want.

I'm scared I won't compare to what you imagined, to what you deserve.

Johnny can sense it all, or at least some of it—as his eyes briefly flare with intense worry. He pulls away before you can ask, flicking the light switch and plunging you both into inky darkness—the room only illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights.

"How's this, hen?" He asks, finding his way back to you.

Somehow, the barely-there lighting of the room feels like a safety blanket—a joyous hiding-in-the-pillow fort feeling, instead of being subjected to a spotlight that seems to amplify all your insecurities.

"Better." Your smile is genuine as you reposition atop the bed, pulling Johnny with you gently as you seek comfort. The two of you scramble up the bed, laying over the covers and facing each other—just inside each other's embrace.

Johnny's handsome features are visible enough in the dim, with his easy smile still lighting up the room. "Will just have to feel ma way around... if tha's okay."

"Touch but don't look, instead of the other way around." You laugh, the act releasing some of your pent-up worry. Your hand chases Johnny's, moving it from the bed to your body and encouraging him to touch you. "Sounds good to me."

"That's ma girl. Ye feel fucking divine." He sighs his words into your skin, leaning forward for a kiss as his hand dips under the fabric of your top and rests on the curve of your waist. His thumb still appreciatively strokes across the satin of your pyjamas.

"I bought these just for you." You admit, voice a soft whisper.

"Did ye pick the colour of my eyes on purpose, pet?"

So he had noticed, you think. "Yeah..."

Johnny's easy expression falters for a moment, his usual confidence wavering in the face of such a heartfelt act.

"Fuckin' christ." His hand squeezes at your side as he lets out a shaky sigh. "And as if I wasn't hard enough."

"Oh?" Your hand reaches out to rest on Johnny's chest, fingers raking down slightly on your path of exploration, headed straight for the waistband of his bottoms where your ignited curiosity is focused.

Your fingers itch to feel his cock again, remembering how deliciously hard and huge he had felt under your touch in the café. This time, you could feel him without reservation, and experience exactly the effect you have on him without any barriers of material or propriety.

His eyebrow arches at the action, and his eyes sparkle interest. "Bonnie, where's tha' hand going?"

"I wanna feel it, please." You whisper, accompanying your words with a teasing touch as you slip your thumb under the waistband and tug at the elastic.

Another tremulous exhale passes his lips before he pulls the lower one between his teeth. "When ye beg like tha’, how can I say no?"

Your hand dives below his waistband as you eagerly wrap your hand around the satiny smooth skin of his cock—feeling the bulging veins and the way the tip leaks with sticky pre.

“Fuck.” You continue to explore his length, stroking slowly and reverently as you watch his face for his reactions—relishing in each quiver of his brows or flutter of his lashes. “Honestly, I don't know how I got this far without begging you to show it to me.”

He chuckles as his hips buck slightly to meet your touch, frenetic energy building inside of him. “Guess for now you’ll just have to keep feelin’. Make up fer lost time.”

“Johnny…”

“Yes, puppy?”

You stroke down to the base, gripping it firmly for a moment as you speak. "There's no way you're fitting that inside me—"

Johnny's eyes flare with ravenous need, his smile turning delightfully sinful before he devours your protests with a messy kiss—a hand gripping at your chin.

"Shhh, I know that pretty cunny can take me." He purrs his words into your mouth, forcing you to practically swallow them and all of their intensity. "When the time comes, we'll go slow. I'll take care of ye, train my puppy to take me."

Your body squirms involuntarily, arousal and surrender washing over you in waves as Johnny's authoritative tone melts you back into a submissive headspace.

"Your mouth is evil, Johnny." You whine and shiver. "You know what you do to me, right?"

"I have an idea." He smirks, as the hand gripping your down trails down your neck and over your body before stopping at your waistband for permission. "Wouldnae mind more of one, though, if tha's okay."

"Please."

It's impossible to hold back your gasp as Johnny's thick fingers finally slide in between your soaked folds and make contact with your sensitive clit.

He swipes through your wetness repeatedly, dipping down to tease at your entrance before pulling more slick over your clit and swirling it easily with his fingers. You curl into him slightly, forehead falling against his as your legs fall apart, and you surrender to his touch.

Each stroke feels electric, and your hips rise and fall to chase every little sensation you get from the way he explores you. You find your eyes drifting shut from the pleasure, and the need to shield yourself from the intensity of his hungry stare.

"Fuck, drippin' fer me." His voice is lower, coming from deeper in his chest, as you feel his dick throb. He's stopped rutting into your hand, instead focused entirely on you.

"... When I got home after our date, I was soaked right through." You admit, voice shaky and unsteady and wracked with pleasure. The glow radiates outwards from your core, coiling in your stomach. Despite your earlier release, your need is still overwhelming—Johnny's touch feeling better than anything you've felt in so long.

"Always makin' a mess. Making a mess on ma fingers right now."

"I can't help it." You whimper helplessly, and even more so when Johnny's fingers withdraw from your folds and leave your cunt aching for him.

Your eyes fly open in time to watch him take the soaked digits in his mouth, cleaning your mess off of them with his tongue as he gives you an intense, unwavering look that makes your cheeks blaze.

"Taste heavenly, bonnie. Think I need more of a taste, though." He grins, his eyes raging with a hunger that makes your stomach flip.

"Fuck," You sigh, wanting his mouth on you and yet feeling a sense of guilt for even thinking about letting him. "I... I should get you off first."

You return to stroking his length, your movements having stilled as he had focused on you, but his hand moves to grip your wrist—stilling it in its tracks.

"Lass, if you give me the word, there's nothin' coming between me and eating tha' kitty of yours. Not even my own cock."

The certainty in his tone and his look almost have you convinced, but that niggle of insecurity and worry still lingers in the back of your mind, urging you to deny yourself of the pleasures Johnny can give you.

"I don't usually..." You trail off, struggling to finish your sentence. Part of you wants to say you don't let guys go down on you, but it's not like the last one even cared to offer.

You haven't even told Johnny any details, yet he seems enthusiastic enough to compensate for any of the experiences you've had in the past.

His expression cycles through a myriad of emotions—confusion, sadness, and anger, before he settles on a soft yet determined look.

"Do you want me to go down on ye?"

"Yes." Your answer slips out far too quickly, but the thought of his mouth on your cunt makes your head spin.

His hand returns to cup your cheek, stroking reassuringly as his eyes plead with you. "Then please, bonnie."

You swallow, pushing away the voices in the back of your head as you nod, and Johnny scrambles down the bed.

He pulls down your shorts and tosses them aside, before his arms wrap around your thighs to pull them apart. His lips quickly find their way to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, kissing and licking and biting ever so slightly as you squirm helplessly beneath him.

His muscular arms keep your lower body exactly where he wants you, as his kisses move higher and higher before they press the outside of your folds and make you cry out.

"Poor little neglected kitty." He coos, before pressing more kisses to your lips.

"Johnny—"

"Shh." He interrupts you sharply yet playfully, looking up from between your legs and fixing you with a light-hearted glare. "Am making introductions."

He refocuses his attention back on your cunt, a hand moving so he can stroke his thumb back and forth over your sensitive nub while he coos sweet nothings into your centre.

"Need someone to take care of ye? I'm a good owner, promise." He dives in and captures your clit in an open-mouthed kiss, sucking slightly before pulling off with a pop. "Know how tae play with ye just right."

It's overwhelming, the way he talks and the fact he's talking to your cunt like it's separate from you, and yet something he's just enamoured with.

He starts eating you in earnest, tongue swiping up and down your folds, stubble rubbing against your skin—sweet, hot pleasure trickles through you with every little sensation, and you know you're not going to last long under Johnny's mouth.

"Fuck, can't wait to see ye properly. Pretty pussy, all fer me."

He dives back in, all tongue and lips and slick, wet heat as he makes love to your clit and folds with his mouth—drawing out every whine and whimper you're capable of making.

"Oh my god," You gasp, hand falling to his head so your fingers can tangle in his hair. "You're so good fucking with your tongue."

When he pulls back to talk, his lips glisten with your arousal. "'m not just talk, bonnie. Think ye can take my fingers too?"

"Please, please." You beg, almost urging him back to your core as his fingers circle your entrance before slowly sinking in.

The two digits stretch you slowly, getting you accustomed to the assault before his tongue is on your clit again, all of him working in tandem to make you shiver and squirm. Your cunt squelches with each thrust and lick, Johnny forcing more arousal to leak from your pretty hole as he lavishes you with attention and pleasure.

"Such pretty sounds." He mumbles, though his eyes don't meet yours.

"Do you mean me or..." You swallow nervously, shyness overtaking you as you summon the words to address yourself. "...her?"

"Both of ye." He growls, before feasting with renewed fervour.

You've never had a man eat you like this in your life, as Johnny drinks your nectar like he needs it to survive, and caresses your insides with the most reverent touch. His has you completely undone beneath him, moaning loud enough to disturb the neighbours and racing towards your peak in record time.

Your legs shake against his hold, your hips naturally rising to meet his mouth as your pleasure builds and builds, pushing you ever further toward ecstasy.

"I'm close." You whimper when the precipice arrives, and Johnny doesn't hold back in the slightest.

"Cum fer me." He mumbles, before sucking you over the edge. Your thighs squeeze and tremble around his head as you explode under his tongue and clench around his thick fingers.

His attention doesn't wane until he's wrung every little bit of pleasure out of your quivering body. "Mhmmm. Good girl."

He presses one last kiss to your clit, bidding her goodbye before he gently slides your shorts back up your legs and joins you at the head of the bed.

"Fuck..."

The afterglow flows through you like lava in your veins, filling you with a warmth that only grows as Johnny strokes your face.

"Can I kiss ye?" He asks, his lips hovering just a fraction from your own.

"I need you to. I'll just ignore the taste of myself."

"Your loss."

He closes the distance, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, one so achingly sweet you pay no mind to the taste of yourself on your tongue.

Johnny continues to caress your face as he deepens the kiss, making you breathless once more.

You find yourself having to turn away from the kiss to bury your head into the pillow as you stifle an overwhelming yawn.

"Tired fer real now, sweetheart?" Johnny whispers, chasing you to press kisses to the side of your head.

You turn back to face Johnny, noses almost brushing together as you give the slightest confirmatory nod. "'m a little sleepy."

Johnny rushes to slide off the bed, throw back the covers, and position himself on his back. He pats his chest in invitation, smiling at you ever so sweetly. "Your pillow awaits. Non-negotiable, aye?"

It takes a little bit of shuffling on both behalves to get you settled under the covers and snuggled up to the warmth and comfort that is Johnny's chest. Your cheek is pressed to his pec as your arm settles across his torso—he loops an arm around your back and pulls the other one over his body, holding the thigh that rests over his hips.

You cuddle in closer, relishing the way your bodies fit together, and the way his chest cradles your head so perfectly. "Mhm. Comfy pillow."

"I'm glad—"

You interrupt him immediately, your hand coming up to smooth over his chest and squeeze appreciatively.

"Shh." You whisper condescendingly, imitating Johnny's tone from earlier when he was between your legs. "I'm making introductions."

His chest rumbles with a laugh, as he lets you get well acquainted with his pecs. "Brat."

Your eyes quickly slip shut, your hand stilling of any further movement. Johnny's voice is a sweet whisper from above you as you drift out of consciousness.

"Sweet dreams, bonnie."

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