#wet gusset

[woodfrogs]

a pair of worsted weight socks i made to try out TAAT sock knitting! :D i would say theyre done just in time for the end of winter but march this year has been colder than january on average so who even knows...

im now gonna do TAAT all the time though. even though juggling two strands of yarn in portuguese knitting is kinda tough, its just like colourwork so i have to get used to it anyway. and not having to count rows or deal with second sock syndrome is totally worth it for me

the yarn is kinda bad for socks... 2 ply worsted weight 100% wool. so these are going to be low-wear indoor socks only. i do have a bit of yarn left to patch it up if need be which is great because the shop was all the way on salt spring island, BC, and has since gone under! i got a hank of it 7-8 years ago on a trip out there and just never used it. its a bit too rough for a hat or scarf and its an odd weight to match with other skeins for a larger project. so socks it was!

[drgnflyteabox]

mdni 18+ soap x fem!reader pregnancy kink, lactation kink, dubcon-ish

Johnny takes good care of you when you get knocked up with his baby, to be sure, but he's not a saint

He'll let you kick your feet into his lap and rub the stiffness away, yeah, if he gets to lay you out after and press his nose to the gusset of your panties and inhale as long as he wants, hand wrapped firmly around his cock

Yeah, he'll come up behind you and take the weight of your swollen belly off of your back, hold you there while you decompress for the first time in weeks... if you take your top down later and let him have a little taste of the milk that's come early

Honey, of course I'll get your lotion from the top shelf for ye, just go ahead and lay yerself down on the bed for me. Mhm, tuck a pillow under that belly. Hands and knees, lamb. That's right, good girl.

He's been putting things in hard to reach places so you have to ask him for help, too, not that you know - you're suffering from a case of pregnancy brain, foggy and tired

Can't let the mother of his child suffer without help, of course. But would it hurt to just come take a seat in his lap, let him see how sensitive you've gotten? How much more wet you get now? How sore and weepy you are?

[nana-au]

𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐍! 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐱 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐍! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 | making a mess of your panties MDNI

warnings: panty fucking? idk what to call this

(this is a drabble inspired a request i got... if it was you dw i am making a full fic)

yuji and you both decided at the start of your relationship to take things slow. sex was a serious commitment - with the possibility of becoming pregnant and not to mention both of you were utterly clueless... you both thought it was for the best to wait things out and take things slow.

and while at first you both waited... and waited... and waited; choosing to only kiss and maybe grind against each other (with your clothes on, of course) every once in a while... it wasn't long until you both started to lose the plot a little.

that was why what was supposed to be a simple makeout session ended up with yuji's wet dick tucked away into the gusset of your panties - his length rubbing against your folds. your pleasure - all sticky and wet clung to your panties and his cock - all thanks to the tantalizing feeling of his twitching dick poking your clit with every stutter of his hips.

you cried underneath him - wriggling while his tip kissed against your sensitive bundle of nerves and yuji - even with his years of playing sports was struggling to hold himself above you on his bed - his arms shaky while lost in the pleasure of his cock sandwiched between your panties and your labia.

his head spun while you mewled under him. it was naughty what you were both doing. yuji - condomless - dripping precum all down your folds while your entranced clenched and unclenched - pushing out more of your pleasure and coating his cock completely. your cunt basically begging for him to enter you - all warm and wet and ready for him to effortlessly slide in.

he kissed you tenderly, capturing your lips and putting a pause to your whines while he tried desperately not to cum just from the feeling of your warmth. he wanted so badly to beg and plead with you just to stick the tip in - wanting nothing more than to just feel the head of his cock push past the initial ring of your plush cunt - promising you it would go no further. but he knew he couldn't promise that. he completely broke your original agreement of over-the-clothes touching. he tried his luck first by getting you to agree to grinding in your underwear; something you were wary about but so cloudy with lust you couldn't help but nod and let him pull your sweatpants down. then he got you to agree to him taking his cock out - swearing to you he just wanted to feel over your panties.

he really thought he could stop there but the moment your panties started to darken from your pleasure he all but shook when begging to just slide between your folds. you had agreed - apprehensive but so turned on he probably could've gotten you to agree to anything.

so while his dick slid back and forth in between your lips and his tongue tangled with yours you could only lay there and let him make the both of you feel good.

yuji continued to leak precum - the cool fluid mixing with yours and causing his cock to slip around in your panties - dragging across your skin and missing where he intended to rut against. he broke your kiss, eyebrows furrowing in frustration and sitting up. with his cock still tucked away in your panties and with yuji now on his knees between your legs, he held the fabric down with his hands - trapping his dick back between the puddle he made of your folds. he begun grinding again and was unable to fight back a groan. with your panties and labia tight against his cock he stood no chance - roughly slipping back and forth and stimulating himself to his peak.

he came .... a lot. your panties were already soaked with the evidence of your need and now they were stained with his sperm - along with your dripping folds.

"y-yuji! you came," you cry out anxiously, sitting up to desperately get your underwear off of you - worried that some could possibly slip into your center and god forbid impregnate you.

yuji was all apologies for hours afterwards, even after helping you get his thick cum that slipped between your folds out. he used his index and middle finger to desperately scoop his sperm out of the path to your entrance - causing your hips to buck violently with each desperate flick of his fingers. he was panicked hearing you cry out and not thinking straight, he just went right in with his hands trying to remove traces of his ejaculation from you while accidentally stimulating your clit in the process. "yujiiiiiii!! a towel!!" you cried out again and he sprung to action - rushing to your dorm bathroom and grabbing your giant bath towel.

once you both got over the initial panic of the situation you couldn't stop laughing at your boyfriend and his silly solutions - and he spent the rest of the night blushing wildly - not from his embarrassingly stupid actions - but from the image of your legs wide open and your bare cunt clenching underneath him - his thick cum dripping down into your center where he secretly wanted it most; now stuck in the perverted depths of his mind for the rest of his life.

[shadow4-1]

"Can you just pretend to love me tonight? Please?"

Simon's never gotten a request like this before.

He's never had any qualms about selling his body. Whether it was for his cock, units of his blood plasma, or his war honed body. He's always done what he's had to - anything to stay off the streets and keep a full belly.

The girls who've paid him always wanted a brute, someone to mount them and take them for all they were worth. That was what he was used to, not some doe-eyed sweet thing begging him to be gentle.

"I want to feel loved." You admit, leaning back on the motel bed, thighs crossed in nervousness. "I um...I know I'm not very pretty-"

Simon leans forward on his knees and kisses you gently. Well, he tries to. The tip of your teeth graze painfully together as he mouths you. You squeak beneath him, hands going up to his shoulders to try and push him off on rabbit instinct. He pulls his mouth off of you just enough to mutter an apology.

"Sorry." He swallows.

You look up at him with impeccably beautiful eyes brimming with tears. You seem to finally understand there's nothing gentle about him even when he tries to be. Simon wants you to call him off, send him out of the cheap hotel. He knows he can't be as sweet at you want - as you deserve. He's just physically not built for that. At least, he's sure of it nowadays. He has a brief memory of holding his newborn nephew but it slips away just as quickly as it came.

"Can we just...go slow?" You ask again. Simon can hear the waver in your voice. You're unsure if you want to continue, but you seem to trust him for some reason. "Really, really slow?"

"Yeah."

He can do slow. He can do glacial. If there's one thing he can do, it's be measured, methodical. He wasn't a Lieutenant for nothing.

For the first time in years, he takes his time. He's used to the fast paced, hungry fucks that pay his rent in thirty minutes. This is...new, not wholly uninvited. He kisses down your collarbone, down the swell of your breasts. He nips at the lacy fabric (you dressed up for him when he was expecting just to rip it all off) as he makes his way down further. He laps at the skin beneath your belly button, making your belly flutter. Ticklish. He likes that.

Simon noses his way between your thighs, easily spreads your legs with his thick forearms. As he kisses down your cloth covered mound he admits he likes how you smell. Usually the taste of women turns him off. He prefers men, but desperate women pay more. You're desperate alright, although its a different type of desperation. Something about the nervous wetness staining your new panties has his cock jumping in his trousers. He presses his nose to the fabric, inhales deeply, and relishes in your shy squeak. Simon starts to understand your desire.

You want to be explored, mapped, and consumed slowly. You want to give up control but feel as if you can stop at any moment. You want to be seen, tasted, then completely devoured.

Instead of slipping your panties to the side, he licks his way down your thighs. You squeal and try to squirm away from the sudden sensation but he doesn't stop. He kisses down your calves and across the top of your feet. His hands are so large that they wrap around your soles completely. Simon pushes them up until they're up by your ears. He knows the position is uncomfortable for you, but he likes the view of your soft, cloth covered mound.

He nips at the back of your ankles and calves, licks down the expanse of your thighs, ans nuzzles into the gusset of your panties. Simon relishes in the squeaks and gasps ans twitches of your expectant body. It's been so long since he's teased someone, much less a sweet lil' thing like you.

Your scent is heady, comforting, nothing like he's experienced before. He finds he really likes just inhaling you in. You whimper, thighs shaking already. He hasn't even licked you yet. Simon finally admits to himself that you're stroking his ego.

He plants a firm, sweet kiss to your cloth covered cunt. The fabric is practically soaked through. He can smell your taste on the tips of his lips. His curiosity wins. He takes a firm, long lick from bottom to top. Simon tastes you, but also the flowery tang of your favorite fabric softener. You taste good. He wants more.

Simon finally releases his hold on your thighs. On instinct, or perhaps strain, they fall apart. You try to sit up but he tugs your body further towards the edge of the bed. He can feel the tension in his old knees from kneeling, but he ignores it. You've opened up your body to him. He wants to take full advantage of it.

Simon goes back to lapping at your clothed cunt. He doesn't stop until his tongue is raw from brushing repeatedly over the stitches. Drool drips down his chin.

"Off."

You huff in confusion, trying to sit up. Instead. With too easy of a tug, off come your panties. There you are. Simon knows he should slow his movements but he doesn't care. You haven't stopped him yet, and he'll be damned if he doesn't get those sweet lips in his mouth. He spreads you apart with his middle and forefinger. You're a sight to behold. Perhaps not pornstar perfect anatomy, but you're delicious looking nonetheless. He eyes your glistening, dripping slit. As bad as he wants to force his tomgue deep inside you, instead he presses a firm kiss to the hood of your clit. You jolt, trying to back away or pull him closer, he can't tell.

Simon follows your movement. He mouths hungrily at your clit, flattens his tongue and practically drools against it. He laps at you with a muted fervor. He doesn't want to hurt you. He can tell you're sensitive. It must've been awhile since the last time you'd had a man willingly do this for you. A damn shame.

Your shaky little moans are like music to Simon's ears. He follows them like a map. He circles your clit, traces the entrance of your hood, even dips lower to tease the sides of your inner lips. You seem to like that alot based on the sounds you make. He sucks on your inner wings and you squeal, thighs wrapping hard around the sides of his head. He does it again and and again until you're hiccuping in delight. Your slick drips down his chin and throat. You're such a good girl for him.

Simon knows he's going to make you cum, it's just a matter of time and technique. He has both on his side. He uses his other hand to pet at your entrance. He tries to commit your anatomy to memory, and so he takes his time dipping the pads of his fingers against your fluttering slit. Despite it obviously having been awhile, your cunt holds no resistance. In fact, it practically swallows up the tip of his middle finger. Fuck yeah, that's what he likes to see.

With measured ease, Simon slips his whole finger inwards and upwards inside of you. You keen and gasp and he can feel your insides twitching. You're tight. So tight he can feel his finger already starting to cramp up from the resistance.

If he's going to fuck you right he's still got some work to do.

[yeyinde]

surreal/psychological horror + Soap where you agree to house sit for a coworker when they take off for a vacation. but a man shows up and tells you he's supposed to be staying there too.

their son, he shrugs. came home on leave from the military. crashin' here. thought mam might'a said somethin'.

she didn't, but it's fine. and he's harmless. sort of. maybe. you're not sure, really. because he's a little pushy. has a wild temper that ebbs and flows at intervals you can't really keep up with. tempestuous. mercurial. but he makes dinner. he tells you about what he did—not all of it, but some. like why he was sent home as he gestures to the raw scar on his temple.

need some tlc, he quips with a sharp grin. and lucky him because he found the prettiest little doe waitin' fer him.

harmless. a soldier. you can trust that, right?

but he stares at you with a naked hunger, like he wants to eat you alive. but it's gone when you really look. and sometimes, things go missing. your clothes. panties. odd stuff around the house. he hides the newspaper in the trash before you can see it. says the cable is out on the television—Netflix only. no news. he can't—he can't bare to see it. trauma. you wouldn't put him through that, would you, doe? no. you're a good girl. the best.

(at night, asleep. a nightmare; his rough voice in your ear: his good girl. so good for him. so wet—)

and it's just three weeks.

you'll be fine.

(—even though you taste him in the morning. on your lips. your tongue. the back of your throat. salty, bitter. but—there's a pack of salted licorice on the table. fifteen pieces, it reads. maybe you ate them. fuck, got such a pretty mouth, doe. you count each piece. gonna make me cum. fifteen. it's fine. it's fine. there's an ache between your thighs. a tenderness you lie to yourself about as you ignore the stickiness pooling in the gusset of your panties. fuck, doe, ahm gonna—)

absolutely fine.

until your coworker calls after finally getting cell reception. chatting in your ear about her vacation. normal. totally normal. and her son? you tell her. he's been a real help around the house, too (but she should maybe talk to him about sneaking into your bedroom at night because that's so weird, it's so strange; you don't want to wake up to a man staring at you in the dark, or catch the scent of sage on your pillow anymore, the lingering heat—please tell him to stop doing that because when you do, he just gets a weird look on his face like you're the problem, and it's just all so—)

"what son? we don't—we don't have a son—"

the phone line cutting out doesn't really surprise you. and neither does the creak of the floorboards. the solid weight of a chest against your back. the press of metal. a warm, firm palm folding over your throat, anchoring you in place.

a soft, mournful coo:

"ah really didnae want ye tae find out like th', doe. ah thought we had time together." his hand tightens. breath heavy, ragged against the shell of your ear. "but we gotta go, doe. it's time for us tae leave—"

(maybe you should have pushed back harder against letting him hide the paper, or barring you from watching the news. you might have seen a familiar face.)

[seventeenpins]

sniff

pairing: worst!Logan x neighbor!reader word count: 3k summary: You catch Logan with your stolen panties. content/warnings: pervy old man Logan, panty sniffing, masturbation with panties, mutual masturbation, a whole lot of fantasizing, kinda sub!Logan a/n: Still deep in the trenches here, folks. The Logan brainrot has gotten out of hand. Thank you to @ozarkthedog for making me worse ilu 😘

Logan was a bad man. He knew that. Had spent years knowing that.

Sure, he’d saved this universe, but he still had his demons.

The first time he’d crossed paths with you, you’d knocked him out. You’re a pretty little thing, all sweet and soft. There’s no way you’d ever want a man like him, all anger and failure, grey in his hair, face lined with time and exhaustion.

But you were kind, and charming. Made him smile every time you saw him in the halls or in the laundry room.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. But when he sees you in your leggings and a tight little top, every curve on display, he just can’t help it. He can't tear his eyes away.

Your ass jiggles as you’re bent over the washer, tossing your dirty laundry in the machine haphazardly, and you don’t notice when you drop a lacy pair of panties.

He should tell you. He should really tell you. 

Instead, though, he moves closer to you. Makes up some lie about this machine having been on the fritz. Gives the washer a little smack, the metal of the machine twanging against the metal of his bones.

And, as you thank him and turn back, he snatches up your lacy panties and slips them into his pocket. 

“You have a good day, now, sweetheart,” he tells you, and you turn to face him, a bright smile on your face.

”You too, Logan! I’ll see you round.”

He makes a quick exit, cock already hardening, panties burning a hole in his pocket.

When he gets back to the apartment, he slams the door behind him hard enough to shake the doorframe. He slips into the bathroom, away (hopefully) from the prying ears of Wade and Al, double checking to make sure he has the lock latched securely. He thinks they’re out. He hopes they’re out. If they’re not out, they’d better not say shit if they hear him.

With a quick tug, he unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans, letting his cock spring free from its confines. He slips the panties from his pocket and sighs. They’re barely more than a glorified shred of lace. He holds them up, examines them. Do you wear this style every day, a little thong like this, or is it only for special occasions? Maybe you were wearing them for someone else, some little boyfriend?

The thought enrages him. He knows it’s unfair, that your life is none of his business. Maybe you are dating someone. That’s fine. You’re young and pretty and deserve someone good. Someone better than a man like him.

But fuck he would take care of you right. Wouldn’t stop till you were shaking and crying, utterly fucked out and satisfied, covered in sweat, the slick of your release all over both of you.

With that thought, he brings the panties to his face.

He takes a deep sniff and groans.

He could smell them already, smell you, but it was different from a distance. With your panties in his face, he breathes deep, tries to take you in, all you, only you.

It’s dizzying, the scent of you. The smell of your pussy is intoxicating and he wants so much more. He darts his tongue out, licking at the crusty gusset. He groans as he tastes you. The panties had been worn days ago, but as he sucks at them, he makes them wet again, slippery.

He fists himself with one hand, painfully hard to the point he’s dripping, and with the other, holds your underwear up to his mouth, soaking the fabric.

Then, he wraps the wet panties around his cock and starts jerking himself off.

God, he hopes no one’s home. He tries to quiet the sounds coming out of him, but he simply can’t. The feeling of your panties choking his dick is incredible, even better than he’d hoped when he nabbed them. His breaths are coming out in pants and growls, and he feels more like an animal than he has in a long, long time.

“Fuck-” he grits, imagining all the things he’d like to do to you. He wants to taste you, straight from the source. Spread your pretty little pussy and spit, mixing saliva with your arousal. He wants to fold you over, shove your face into the pillow and ass in the air, all for him to smack and grope at. Spread your cheeks and thumb your asshole. Maybe you’ve never taken a cock in the ass before, maybe he can be your first.

His mind swims with every filthy thought he’s ever had about you. He wants, he wants, he wants—

He wants to bite down on your inner thighs, leave bruises on that soft, soft skin. Plunge three fingers into your glistening pussy and take.

Logan can still taste you on his lips. 

It’s with that thought, and one more slick tug, and he’s spilling into your panties.

There’s a lot. More than he would’ve expected. He keeps coming, the jerk of his hips punctuated with heavy breaths and growls, sweat dripping down his temples and brain blissfully blank from his exertions.

Fuck.

The post nut clarity starts to hit, slowly at first and then all at once.

FUCK.

He should not have done that. 

Stealing your panties? Really? God, he really was just a perverted old man. You could never know, he’d have to find a way to slip them back in your hamper the next time you met doing laundry.

And despite that, despite the shame and guilt and absolute self loathing, he brings the wadded ball of panties to his mouth and licks one last tentative time, tasting both of you together on the flimsy lace.

It tastes like heaven.

Gingerly, he tucks his dick back into his jeans. Glances at himself in the mirror, and fusses a little, straightening out his disheveled appearance.

After one more look over himself, ruined panties balled up in his hand, he unlocks the bathroom door and steps out. 

He exclaims when he sees you, smile on your face, reclined on the sofa next to Wade. Fuck these fucking walls had better be soundproof. FUCK.

”Peanut,” Wade sing-songs, “We have company! This little morsel from down the hall was just telling me how she’d run into you earlier today. She brought us some muffins.”

He puts undue emphasis on muffin in a way that makes Logan blush, just a little.

”Just had some bananas that were past their prime and I made too many. After I saw you earlier I thought I should drop some off as a thank you!”

“A thank you?” Logan asks, suddenly confused.

”Yeah, for helping with the washer!” You frown, surprised that he’d already forgotten.

Logan hesitates to make eye contact, instead only grunting vaguely in your direction with a curt nod.

He shuffles over to the kitchen and grabs himself a beer. Much to his chagrin, the muffins do smell good. 

He’s not sure if you notice that he’s trying to ignore you, but you still seem cheerful.

”Well,” Wade sighs, “I’d better get going. I have a hot date tonight and I will not be late. Again. By more than fifteen minutes.”

”Say hi to Vanessa from me,” you tell him, and right as he’s standing you turn to him. “Mind if I use your bathroom?” You ask, and Wade points you towards the door Logan had just exited.

”Have at it,” he says, and then in a stage whisper tells you, “But if you die, I’m not to be held responsible. Peanut was in there for a while and I can tell you from experience, a wolverine-dump is frightening to behold, even if it’s just the aftermath.”

You snort a laugh and move towards the bathroom as Wade tugs a particularly hideous hat on top of his heinous toupee. “Play nice,” he mock-glares at Logan, “We want more friends in this building who bring us delicious, delicious baked goods.”

With that, he slips out of the apartment.

It’s then that Logan realizes–the panties are no longer in his hand. He’d dropped them. He’d fucking dropped them!

It’s so fucking stupid. So unbelievably fucking stupid. He’d dropped the panties when he saw you, startled out of his train of thought.

And left them on the floor of the bathroom.

”NO!” Logan calls, and tries to get to the door before you make it there, but he’s already moments too late.

As he dashes around the kitchen island and towards the bathroom door, you’ve already shut the door behind you. At the sound of his footsteps, the door swings back open, and you’re standing there, panties in hand.

He physically recoils and then stares, deer in headlights.

You look at the bunched up ball of underwear and back up at him.

“Logan?” you venture.

He glares at the floor, refusing to make eye contact. You can see the tick of his jaw, the dart of his eyes.

“Are these mine?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Logan gives one sharp nod.

“You seem to have made a mess of them,” you muse, suddenly feeling very, very warm. You should be angry. Hell, you should be scared.

But he stands before you, still looking at the floor, looking to all the world like a bashful child who’s just been caught misbehaving.

He doesn’t respond with words, only grunts.

You take a step closer to him.

“Logan, look at me.”

He finally does. He’s not sure what he sees in your eyes, but it doesn’t look like fear or anger. Instead, it’s almost a hunger.

“First," you tell him, "You’re gonna clean up your mess,” You're suddenly more bold than you know yourself to be, aching with it. “And then you’re gonna show me, and you’re gonna do it all over again.”

“I’m sorry, what–”

You take another step towards him, close enough to touch him. As he’s about to say something else, you take the opportunity to shove the cum-drenched panties right in his open mouth, shutting him up instantly.

He stands there, unmoving, panties half-dangling out his mouth.

“Good boy.” You say, and his eyes widen, mouth agape and panties nearly slipping.

Of all the scenarios he’s played out, for months now, this was never one of them.

He’d never realized how much he can enjoy surprises. The hunger in your eyes—it’s delicious.

He regains a semblance of composure and you guide him backwards. He stumbles blindly till the backs of his knees hit the sofa. He collapses with a huff.

“Go on,” you encourage, “You like playing with my panties so much, you get to do it for me.”

He groans, puts a hand to his mouth, and sucks at the fabric. 

It’s still wet, and full – full – of his cum. 

He slurps at it, pulls them out of his mouth and stretches the panties wide. Licks all over it, tongue running along the gusset where he can still taste the two of you together.

It doesn’t matter that Wade could come back home, that Althea may already be home. It doesn’t matter that he’s mortified; at the very least, his dick doesn’t seem to have gotten the message. He’s getting hard again, refractory period already practically nonexistent. He’s at a loss for words, but that doesn’t matter, either. 

All that matters is the panties in his mouth, and your eyes on him, slight smile tugging at your lips as you watch.

”Do you make a habit of this?” You ask, and it’s more curious than condemning.

Logan shakes his head. “Uh-uh,” it comes out muffled through the mouthful.

“Don’t make a habit of stealing my panties, or don’t make a habit of stealing anyone’s panties? For all I know, you’ve got some secret collection. Got a pair of Wade’s briefs in the back of your drawer?”

The blush that blooms is pretty, flushing all down his bared throat. You desperately want to touch him, but more than that, you want to tease him. Humiliate him. Call him a dirty old man and make him sweat, and then show him that you want him anyway. That you have been wanting him.

You just didn’t think he’d fall so easily for the bait of dropped panties.

“Suck em clean,” you tell him, and he makes a half-strangled moan, slurping loudly against them.

He works at them with his mouth. It could’ve been comical but instead he simply looks feral. He makes a lewd, wet sound, and pulls the panties out of his mouth, dragging them across his teeth, saving every last bit of the mix of cum and reconstituted pussy juice that had been soaking them.

You take them from his outstretched hand and sniff them yourself. You see the way his eyes widen again, but he’s restrained. He holds himself back, stays still.

“I’ve gotta say, you do put on a good show. You can keep these,” you smile, and toss them back at him, smacking him square in the face.

“But these-” you slip your thumbs up your skirt, the one you deliberately chose to wear just for this purpose. You hook the waistband of today’s panties and slip them down, stepping out of them and handing them to Logan.

“You’re gonna show me exactly how you touched yourself with those panties you stole.”

“Hey,” he huffs, “Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–”

“I’m not,” you cut in, “If you hadn’t stolen my panties, you wouldn’t be showing me just how dirty an old man you are.” You wink, “And I like it.”

“Watch who you’re callin’ old, sweetheart.”

“Logan, baby,” you croon, “You ain’t the one calling the shots here.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you take another step towards him and grab him by the belt buckle. He buffers, opening and closing his mouth several times, never taking his eyes from your face.

He watches, awed, as you undo the buckle, pop the button, pull down his zipper.

You grin when you see he isn’t wearing any underwear himself and, with a swift, deft movement, you reach into his jeans and slide out his cock.

If he wasn’t hard before, he is now. He moans as your hand wraps around him, pumping gently. It’s far too little pressure. He wants more. He needs more.

As if reading his mind, you snatch your panties from his hand and wrap them around his cock.

He whines, immediately overwhelmed. He’d barely dared to notice them when you’d placed them in his hand. Now, he realizes just how absolutely soaked you are. The crotch of your panties, (another lacy pair), is slick with your arousal.

“Show me,” you tell him. “Show me-”

Reluctantly, he tightens the grip on his cock and starts jerking himself. 

Against his own will, a ragged moan slips out. It makes your body hot and your pussy even wetter. You sit back on the sofa and spread your legs, letting your hand rest on your needy pussy.

Logan notices and, encouraged, wraps his fist tighter around his cock and strokes himself faster, his hips moving rhythmically.

You start to touch yourself in earnest, dipping two fingertips into your slick heat and swirling the arousal around your clit.

Little moans start to escape you, egged on but his ragged breathing. He starts muttering, worn and desperate; “Fuck, fuck, wanna taste that pussy. Eat you right. Smells so good, tastes so good, wanna make you cum on my tongue, hold you down, fuck you through it–”

The touch of your fingertips is exquisite. You’ve masturbated to the thought of him a lot. More than you’d prefer to admit. But seeing him like this, undone and aching, it hits you all the more. 

You sink into the fantasy. “Want you, Logan. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Gettin’ close now,” he warns. He should be embarrassed at the speed he's reaching his peak, but he's so drunk on sensation he simply cannot find it in himself to care.

You nod, and adjust the pressure on your clit.

“Wait for me,” you tell him. He groans, but nods. “Nearly there,” you assure.

You press tight circles around your clit working yourself up, closer and closer and closer to that high–

“Fuck,” you shout, suddenly overwhelmed by it, “Fuck, I’m— I’m coming. Show me, Lo, show me–”

You tip over the edge, cunt pulsing hungrily. You wish you’d had something inside you. Wish you’d had him inside you.

He lets out a ragged groan, followed by curses, and the most explosive ejaculation you’ve ever seen. The head of his cock is buried in your panties and he fills them, but his cum shoots out of the holes of the lace, spraying his spend across the floor and towards you. A single drop hits your cheek, and you nearly laugh, but the sound he makes–something primal and animalistic–sends another pulse through you and suddenly you’re coming again, untouched.

It takes a while to come down.

He’s panting, sweat dripping down his temples. Reality absolutely living up to the fantasy.

When you both catch your breath, you smile, sated and tired. You reach out a hand and, hesitantly, he hands you the ruined panties.

Mouth agape, he watches as you run a finger through the cum and dip it in your mouth, humming a pleased affirmation. Then, you step into the cum-drenched underwear and put them on.

He stares at you dumbfounded, burning with so many thoughts that he can’t pinpoint a single one.

“Next time,” you smile, standing up and pressing an unexpected kiss to his cheek. “You can just ask.”

You wink, half dazed yourself, barely able to believe everything had turned out exactly as you’d orchestrated it.

“I’m in Apartment 8,” you tell him, and then you’ve turned on your heel and stepped out the door.

Logan stands there, bewildered. He fingers the damp panties he still has in his pocket, and listens as your footsteps echo through the hallway.

[rafeysbunny]

bf! jj eating you out in the twinkie

your hips buckle impatiently against jj's face, pretty eyes looking through the window of the twinkie to make sure no one's around. he's peppering a bunch of wet kisses all over your creamy thighs, lips gently suckling at the sensitive flesh, which has you panting heavily already.

"c'mon, jay..." you whimper softly, and there's a pleading tone to your sweet voice. "gotta be quick."

only your crazy boyfriend could convince you that it's a good idea to let him eat you out in the back of john b's van in broad daylight, when it's clearly not. not when you're in the middle of a parking lot and your friends are in harbor freight, getting some shopping done for the poguelandia renovation. they could come back at any moment, for god's sake.

"relax, princess. i'll have you cumming in less than five minutes," he whispers cockily, hands sliding up your thighs to push your pretty, floral dress up and around your waist. "just lemme enjoy this for a bit, yeah?"

precisely, it's the dress which has gotten you into this situation in the first place, the piece of clothing making your gorgeous body look so good that jj has been dying to get his hands on you the whole day. "so fuckin' pretty." his warm breath brushes your skin while he talks, his face a few inches from your covered sex, to which he presses a chaste kiss; the action makes you shudder.

he'd keep teasing you with featherlight touches and little kisses for a bit more, relishing in the way your body arches and your hips rock upwards desperately— until he finally hooks his fingers in the gusset of your white cotton panties and pushes them aside gently, exposing your soaked pussy.

"such a dirty girl, huh?" he teases, gliding his fingers through your slit to part your slick folds. "gettin' all wet f'me, knowing our friends could walk in on me eating out this sweet cunt..."

cool air caresses your overheated flesh before he leans in and drags the flat of his tongue up your centre, nice and slow, which makes your whole body shake. your mouth drops open in response as you grab a handful of his soft, blonde hair, hips jerking unconsciously.

he moans at your taste, his piercing, blue eyes locked on yours as he closes his lips around your sensitive clit, his fingers hooking around your supple thighs to keep you spread open for him. you can feel the cool metal of his rings biting into your skin due to his hard grip. that, added to the feeling of his skilled mouth sucking onto your pussy, has your head swimming.

you'd be panting heavily and whimpering in no time, your pussy a sopping mess from your own arousal and his spit. he easily slips two thick digits inside your dripping hole, alternating between sucking and flicking your throbbing bundle of nerves. his fingers crook to rub against that spongy spot at the front that makes your vision blur and your pretty eyes roll back into your skull as you moan, not caring that someone might hear.

the orgasm builds rapidly, the coil in your tummy tightening while your pussy flutters around his fingers and your pretty little toes wiggle inside your converse. as promised, he has you cumming in less than five minutes, the pleasure so much that you squirt onto his handsome face with a whiny whimper, completely soaking everything inside john b's car.

the sight almost makes him cream his pants.

"fuck, jay, how are we gonna clean this shit up?" you'd mutter, still trying catch your breath, just before you both hear your friends' chatter getting close to the twinkie.

hell, you're screwed.

more.

[reignpage]

Best Roommate Ever!

Summary: your sweet roommate, Choso, is not who he seems Word Count: 1k Warnings: smut, dubcon, perv!choso, manipulation, coercion, handjob, cursing, nonconsensual picture taking, pillow fucking, ooc, dark themes, fem!reader, not proofread

Roommate!Choso is a blessing — he’s the cleanest person you’ve ever met, he’s sweet and kind, doesn’t bring over loud guests, and never fights you for the remote. He makes soup when you're sick, helps with the chores, and gets along great with you.

Pervy roommate!Choso waits until you leave for your job to walk into your room and jump onto your bed, inhaling your scent from the pillows. He buries his face in it, gripping the soft material as he grinds into your mattress, overwhelmed by your smell and the images of you writhing in bed the way he is.

Roommate!Choso does the laundry and never complains. He separates the whites from the colours, doesn’t cheap out on laundry detergent and fabric softener. Hell, what kind of guy uses fabric softener? 

Pervy roommate!Choso  loves to do the laundry because he gets to see what you’ve been wearing under all those tight jeans, see what colours you gravitate towards, and know whether you’ve touched yourself at all the past week.

You had just come out of the shower, and he was knocking on the door, talking about how the laundry needs to be done immediately. Truthfully, he just wanted to pocket the flimsy material at the top of the pile and press the still wet gusset to his nose. 

Pervy roommate!Choso groans, free hand shoved into his sweats, soothing the throbbing of his cock by squeezing the base the way he thinks you would, firm and teasing. He loves the way your pussy smells and oh god he wishes he could smell it from the source, but he’ll settle for tonguing the wet spot, eyes rolling back at the taste of you. 

Roommate!Choso laughs when you can’t find your favourite thongs, claiming the washing machine eats up things like all his socks, and doesn’t dare say it’s actually in his pocket right now. 

Pervy roommate!Choso sneaks into your room when you’re asleep, eyes roving over the shorts riding up your ass, and the way your big shirt is bunched up right under your tits. 

He snaps a pic of the curves of your ass, lifting the hem slightly so more of your plump cheek is on show. Your skin is soft, and he just can’t help himself; he smooths a hand over your thigh, thumb pressing to watch the flesh bounce and ripple.

And then he’s moving upwards, careful fingers pushing the shirt up and over your tits, unrestrained and gorgeous in the moonlight streaming through the curtains. 

Pervy roommate!Choso sucks a finger, skin absorbing the warmth of his mouth before he’s skimming your nipple, poking the stiffening bud. Kneeling, he takes a risk, heart beating abnormally fast as he keeps an eye out on your face. Any flicker of consciousness and he’ll disappear back into his room. 

He sticks a tongue out, the tip jutting just a little so he can poke at your nipple. His eyes roll back at the knowledge of how wrong it is and then he’s throwing caution to the wind and wrapping his lips around it, sucking hard before you groan. 

When you wake up, you’re confused as to why your shirt is almost choking you and your nipple is oddly sensitive. 

And wet?

Roommate!Choso decides he needs more, that he can’t stand the sneaking around. He needs you, needs to feel your willing touch. But there’s no way he can risk putting his heart on the sleeve and be rejected, because then he’ll lose you. 

Pervy roommate!Choso calls you into his room, claiming his pelvis is sore. You suggest taking him to the hospital, but he blushes, it’s too embarrassing. So, you take pity on your poor roommate and offer to massage it for him. 

A small smile crawls on his face and as soon as a yes leaves your mouth, he’s shoving his sweats down with more vigour than he would have liked.  You don’t notice. Rubbing your hands together, you blow warmth between them before pressing your fingers to his upper thighs and his lower abdomen. 

You’re touching everywhere but where he wants you to, poking and prodding to ease a soreness that doesn't exist. 

Pervy roommate!Choso groans. The ache has moved upwards to his dick. How humiliating. But you don’t mind, do you?

Wrapping your hand around his base, you look up at him with those wide innocent eyes he loves so much and ask if it’s okay, if he’s feeling better, and oh, is he ever?

You jerk him off exactly how he imagined, thumb brushing across his slit and using his cum to smooth the descent. He cums all over your hands, back arching and your name on his tongue.

Roommate!Choso loves movies nights with you! He loves when you snuggle up right next to him, resting your head on his shoulder and sharing a bowl of popcorn. It’s so much fun to critique cheesy dialogue with you. 

Pervy roommate!Choso loves movie nights for another reason; you fall asleep after the second movie like clockwork, hand buried in the popcorn. He scoots the bowl away very carefully, watching your hand fall limp onto his crotch. 

He presses it down harder with his own, hips rutting upwards to chase that pressure and turn it into pleasure. He can’t cum like this, it isn’t enough, but he can if he manages to tuck that hand under his pyjama bottoms, using the oil from the popcorn as lubricant, UTI be damned. 

When you wake up and he’s wiping your hands clean, he chastises you for dozing off without washing up. And you thank him for being so sweet and thoughtful, assuming the flush of his cheeks is from the compliment and not the rapid beat of his heart from being almost caught. 

Pervy roommate!Choso steals your pillows whilst you’re out with friends, he ties them together with rope, taping pictures of parts of your sleeping body onto his creation. 

He rams his throbbing dick inside, cursing the fact that it’s not tight enough but it’ll have to do. He pictures the way your tits would bounce as he pounds into you, the way your pussy would gush around his cock, forming a creamy white ring, and if he closes his eyes, he can hear your moans, can hear you cry out for more. 

Pervy roommate!Choso envisions your sloppy cunt clenching down on him as you cum at the same time he squirts inside, biting his lip to stifle his whimpers. 

The pillow covers are ripped up from his death grip, drying stains of his guilt soaking into the cotton.

Thankfully, you don’t question why he’s bought you brand new pillows, instead giving him a hug for the gift.

He’s just such a great roommate!

[dmitriene]

plink inspiration

simon riley can't resist when you wear a cute little lingerie, something sweet and frilly, printed with silly cartoons, or just colored in a soothing, pastel tones of color, doesn't really matters, not when he knows what waits for him below, tight, pretty cunt fluttering around nothing, drippy slick already dampening the gusset of your panties, slicing at your sensitive slit.

you let him rub his cock all over your soiled panties, sticky with the mix of all your fluids mixing, soaking in, pearly precum dribbling out of his tip, spilling over your clothed, aching pussy, pebbled clit swollen with need, while simon busies himself with rutting his spilling cum in your pantied hole, thin fabric the only barrier from dumping it all in your leaky cunt, the mere knowledge trilling you both.

simon's hold around his own throbbing, pulsating cock is white knuckled, fingers interlocked tight, squeezing either to still his drawing orgasm, toned stomach rippling, tense, or to cum faster, but either way, he withdrawals, a short pause that leaves you babbling, tethering on unreachable pleasure, whining and reaching out to his forearms with small sobs of his name, his nose flaring at the slurred, teary noises that fill the stuffy air between you.

you don't need to ask, he's as needy, flipping you over without a thought, wet cock smearing ropes of watery cum all between your plump, rocking asscheeks, rutting erratically, till he's overstimulated, cumming from every little slide, getting your skin all glistening and panties crumpled, see through, stained with all this filth, but simon wouldn't leave you bothered and pleading for attention, fingers already pulling your undies to the side.

simon ruts in under your panties, contact skin on skin makes you both possessed, everything is so warm, tacky and squelching as a background to your little calls of his name, punctured, chocking, singing for him, and with a gravelly, thundering growl he slides in to prod at your soppy hole, breaching in, his last load pumps inside, letting you gush around his sputtering, spasming cock.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[miyukisu]

Between Me and You .ᐟ

❤︎ | While your other friends are enjoying themselves on your little camping trip, you and Kaiser were secretly fucking around (3k wc) ╰ feat. michael kaiser (bllk) x afab! reader

kinktober entry no. 6 | kinktober masterlist

tags - exhibitionism, car fun, fingering, hand jobs, kaiser is a bit desperate, camping trip, p in v, breeding, p*rn with plot, profanity, kaiser and reader banter a bit, friends/enemies-ish to lovers

minors do not interact

"Can you stop fucking moving for a second?"

A tone of annoyance filled his voice as he gripped your waist, effectively keeping you in place.

You two found yourselves in a rather interesting position—at the back of your friend's car with nothing else but the equipment you guys brought for the camping trip. You and Kaiser just pulled the short end of the stick hence why the others were enjoying a little bit of space in the cramped car, while you two had none at all.

"Move one more time and I swear to God—"

"What? You'll get harder?" you tease.

Kaiser clicked his tongue. He was already regretting this trip. The first half of the journey was rather peaceful as he probably fell asleep. And maybe it was because he wasn't conscious to keep his "thing" in control—combined with the fact that you had been rubbing against him this entire time—but it wasn't surprising that he was slowly getting hard.

You thought it would be funny to mess with him; you two had that kind of odd relationship anyway. So you rolled your ass against him, pretending that the road was bumpier than it actually is... until he woke up and became aware of the situation.

"I'm not hard," he denies. But the stiff feeling poking at you from behind told you otherwise.

You simply grinded your hips against him again in response—earning a low groan from him.

"Ya alright back there, man?" one of your friends asks, looking in the rear view mirror.

Kaiser breathes in. "Yeah, one of the tent poles just kept poking me and it hurt."

"Something's poking me too," you add, but Kaiser quickly pinches the side of your waist to stop your mischief.

Your friend laughs, completely unaware of what you two were doing at the back of his car. "My bad. Y'all just try your best to get comfortable, a'ight? We got about another hour on the road."

A whole entire hour.

You could either torture yourself by dwelling on the fact that your position was uncomfortable or... you could have fun. But it seems like Kaiser had the same idea as he slowly lifted up the skirt of your sundress. Your eyes widened, fully knowing that the tides have now turned against you.

"Let's see if you like it," he whispers in your ear. His breath felt warm, contrasting the chilly air of the airconditioned vehicle.

The panties you wore today matched the color of your sundress, except he can't really see it with you sitting on his lap like that. Though it hardly mattered. It was coming off later anyway.

He swiped a finger along your core, noticing how damp it had gotten. Kaiser elicits a low chuckle, whispering in your ear again, "Look at how wet you got from grinding on me. Slut."

There was no comeback; how could you deny that? Especially as he presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing it slowly. You were about to moan and fall back against his chest, but his other hand stopped you.

"Hey, remember he can see us through the mirror, right? I'd suggest you behave unless you want them to see you whoring yourself out for me."

You swallowed back your wanton moans. The fact that he had his hand on your pussy so shamelessly was embarrassing enough; you didn't need for the others to find that out too.

But for as embarrassing as it is, you made no effort to swat his hand away. In fact, you let him go on. You let him rub your sensitive clit faster. And you let him hook a finger in the gusset, pulling the fabric out of the way.

He swiped his finger again and it had him snickering. Kaiser pressed a kiss on your shoulder blade as way to show his amusement. "Holy shit. You're dripping for me."

This time, it was you clicking your tongue at him. But again, you were at a loss for words. You were too focused on the way he played with your pussy and his dick that seemed to be getting even harder. It was impossible to ignore how it pressed against the flesh of your ass.

"What? Got nothing to say now? Where did all your attitude go—"

Turning to face him slightly, you pleaded. "Just take responsibility for it... please?"

You swore you felt his dick twitch through his sweats. Kaiser gulped down, not expecting for that kind of response. He wanted you to fight back—be your usual feisty self. What was he to do now?

"Say it again," he whispered lowly.

"Kaiser... please?" you obeyed.

He hated how easily he gave in as well. All he needed was your honeyed pleas and he was sold.

Kaiser clicked his tongue, knowingly facing a predicament. On one hand, he wanted to listen to his lust infested brain. But it was dangerous. He was about to finger fuck you in a car filled with your dearest friends after all.

His free hand held you by the arm. "Be quiet... or else."

You gulped. It was going to be a difficult task, but you'd rather keep your mouth shut than get no relief at all. He slowly slid one finger in as if to test the waters.

As he expected, it was warm and tight. It made his mind race with all sorts of lewd images. He silently cursed himself, knowing that he was in no position to give himself the same kind of relief.

Perhaps, seeing you enjoy yourself on his fingers would get him off... for now at least.

Though his mind was preoccupied on what could and couldn't be—he absentmindedly pushed in two fingers without warning. The way his thumb resumed to rubbing circles on your clit while he pistoned his fingers out of you felt too practiced—like he had done this thing plenty of times in the past.

He skillfully and precisely brought you to orgasm—all the while you were fighting for your life to keep your sounds at bay. Hell, you were sure that you were biting down on your lips hard enough to make it bleed.

Kaiser let you ride out your high, still pushing his fingers in and out… slowly. A breathy rasp leaves his lips as he throws his head back against the seat. To some extent, part of him felt liberated too.

A boundary was crossed—one that you two teetered on for what felt like months. His dick was aching, yes, but a different kind of warmth filled him.

Hope? He wanted to call it that, but it felt pathetic somehow. Kaiser felt a bit stupid—thinking too hard about something else while you’re right here, sitting on his lap all fucked out.

“Enjoyed yourself?” He whispered to you once more.

“Shut up, ass hat.”

He chuckles. “That’s what I get? After fing—“

“Shut the fuck up. I’m serious,” you sneer.

And he did; awkward silence enveloped the two of you as you sat uncomfortably—Kaiser still with his hard on and you with your ruined underwear. All you wanted at this point was to get out of the fucking car.

────────────

“Hey, so uh, where did Kaiser go?”

Your friends seemed to look in your direction, thinking that you of all people should know the whereabouts of the man whose lap you sat on for quite some time. However, you didn’t bother sparing them a glance as you continued to help set up camp.

“How would I know?”

Your friends looked amongst each other, slightly unconvinced by your cluelessness. But they shrugged it off—thankfully. Everyone resumed to their designated camp duties and not long after, Kaiser returned from his so-called bathroom break. Though you had a hunch on what that truly meant.

It was normal for the most part—everything went as you had envisioned it… except for the little fact that Kaiser would be avoiding you.

Here you thought that after your little stunt in the car, he’d be even more forward with you. But it seems to have an opposite effect. Every time your eyes would meet, he’d look away. You didn’t even dare talk to him because you knew he’d gloss over you.

But the fact of the matter was that—Michael Kaiser was too overwhelmed by the sudden shift in your relationship. He was trying his fucking best to keep himself in control. Otherwise, there may be consequences…

Consequences which you will soon know of.

────────────

You think the world likes to play tricks on you because why do you have to sleep in the same tent as him when there were 2? And why oh why did you have to sleep beside him? There were 4 of you inside the tent—but still—you found yourself on the same inflatable mattress, under the same blanket. Because of course, the damn thing only fit for two people.

Your friends thought it was alright considering you two have already broken the barrier of physical touch; they just didn’t know how far that REALLY meant.

As best as you tried to sleep, you felt intense eyes boring into the back of your head. You silently cursed him for not following the unspoken rule of sleeping back to back. This was just impossible.

You turned around to face him, pulling more of the blanket towards you. Your eyes were met with his. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. What the fuck’s going on with you?”

He stared blankly at you, lips pressed in a straight line. “Nothing.”

“Cut the bullshit. You’ve been avoiding me the entire time we were here after you… you…”

“After I made you cum in the car?”

The audacity of this man caused you to kick his shin. He had to bite back a pained groan to not wake up the others.

“Was that fucking necessary?” He asked. But his question was met with silence; he took it as a hard resounding yes.

A frustrated sigh spilled from his lips. "Fine. I was avoiding you because... I know I won't be able to control myself around you."

You raise your eyebrow in response, unsure of what he meant exactly. He couldn't help but pinch the bridge of his nose to express his exasperation.

"I was this close," he says while pinching his pointer and thumb together as if to show he was holding something miniscule between the pads of his fingers. "I was this close to fucking you in the car."

Your eyes widened in disbelief. This whole time you thought he had regretted his previous actions back in the car, but you had it totally backwards. It was your turn to sigh.

"You could've just told me," you countered.

"That I wanted to fuck?"

"Yeah."

...

"I wanna fuck then," he says so matter-of-factly. It was almost comical to you that it made you chuckle softly.

"What's so funny, assh—"

You cut him off by pulling him into a soft but passionate kiss. Your palm cupped his cheek and your fingers wove themselves into his silky blonde hair.

He was a good kisser—that much was to be expected. It didn't take long for him to reciprocate and then some, pulling your leg to drape over his hips.

Kaiser wanted—no, needed—you to be closer to him. He had to feel your heat, your presence, your everything.

It was almost animalistic how he tried to devour your lips. It was desperate—like a call for help. Now, you were a hundred percent sure about what he had been doing earlier when he left the group.

You pulled away, breathless. If not for the concept of breathing, you would have gone at it until morning. His bright blue eyes stared into yours.

Kaiser was eerily silent, but mostly because he didn't want to get caught doing something dirty with you in the tent. He let his actions speak for himself—his hand lowering to grope the flesh of your ass.

He squeezed it harshly and without restraint; he was way past that. But he decided that it wasn't enough.

He slowly cupped your pussy with his slender fingers. Surely, he was more excited than you were.

"We can't..." your voice trails off—partially due to disappointment, but mostly because he began rubbing your clit again.

"Why not?"

"What? Are you not aware of the two other people sleeping in here?"

"The fuck do we do then?"

But it would seem that he had no plans of letting you speak. Somehow, his fingers found their way in—past your cotton shorts and past the sorry excuse for panties that you wore.

He had been there earlier, so he wasted no time plunging his fingers as if they belonged there. The slight squelching sound made your stomach knot in fear; you could only hope that your friends were sleeping deeply enough.

"What do we do, pretty?" he asked again, though softer.

But his tone betrayed his actions. He stared at you like he wasn't doing anything dirty to you under that blanket.

"I... we... we can't"

Kaiser hummed. "We can't huh?" But he continues to bully his fingers into you and it made your head spin. Words had failed you at this point, so you held on to his arm—failing miserably at stopping him. But you both knew that you wouldn't want him to stop anyway.

The impending climax clouded your judgement. Part of you felt oddly fine if your friends did end up waking and catching you in the act.

The fear had morphed into forbidden excitement.

But it was too soon as he pulled his hand out, leaving you high and dry.

"You think you can get to cum again after being so selfish in the car?"

He tried his best to remain firm, but the muffled whines you let out slowly chipped at his resolve.

"Nuh uh. You gotta be fair," he argued.

At the very least, you were easy to talk to. You pushed him to lie on his back as you propped yourself up on your shoulder. Your palm caressed his body before sliding down to his aching cock. Finally free from its confines, Kaiser let out a strained sigh of relief.

The blanket was a useless barrier; it barely hid his hard length and the motions of your hand.

You chose to go at a painfully slow pace—it made his head spin. But it was so much better than using his own hand that he found it hard to complain at all.

"Fuckkkk," he drawled out.

His face of pleasure was mesmerizing—eyes glued shut with his jaw hanging loosely. It motivated you... somehow. Speeding up the pace, you eventually brought him to orgasm. His body flinched, but he tried to stop himself—not wanting to show how badly you affected him.

You kept his cock in your hand, amazed that it was still hard even after cumming once. "Shit... how are you still hard?"

"Been thinking about this shit all day... How can I not be?"

His honest words sent a jolt to your core. You thought it was impossible to get even wetter. But he managed to do the impossible.

"Fuck—just turn around, will you?"

He asked, but it sounded more like a command. Kaiser got on to his side once more and guided you to do the same so that your back was against his chest. His warm breath fanned the skin of your neck.

His heart was thumping so hard that you could feel it reverberate in your own body.

"Hold your leg up," he commanded again. And you obeyed like the good girl that you are for him.

Kaiser deftly pushed the fabric that was in his way, lining up his cock against your entrance. He pushed only the tip in, but that alone was tantalizing.

You could hear the way his breath hitched. His hand replaced yours as he held up your leg himself. His long fingers dug into the flesh of your thigh, keeping it high enough so he can fuck into you better.

Slowly, he rolled his hips—getting at least half of his length in. You almost let a moan slip out, but you were cautious enough to slap your hand over your mouth.

Checking to see if they're still asleep, Kaiser figured it was safe enough to sheath himself completely inside you. And he swore it was heaven.

Even he wanted to moan. But the prospect of being discovered and stopped abruptly prevented him from making any sound at all. He wanted this. He wanted it badly. Nothing's going to stop it now.

He languidly rolled his hips back and forth—fucking into you without another thought. His cock stretched you out in a way you've never felt before. But it was good... way too good.

It was a crime not to be a moaning mess right now. The slow and precise thrusts turned into frenzied fucking—like this was going to be the first and last time he'd be able to feel your pussy around his cock.

"Shit... this is way too good. I could get addicted," he whispered. "Gonna make me cum twice in one night."

Although you wanted to respond, it was impossible without moaning like a bitch in heat and getting you two caught. The best you could do was to clench around him.

Kaiser bit into your shoulder, suppressing his own grunts. You felt his grip on your thigh tighten substantially.

"Fuuuuck... can I cum inside? Can I?"

He shuddered. "Please? Shit... I won't last longer."

Your mind was swirling—not a single coherent thought could be formed other than a single word.

"Yes."

You whispered it—over and over again into the dead air. And as if on cue, his hips jerked up, fully shoving himself into your deepest parts and shooting hot ropes of cum.

He filled you up nicely—just as how he had been imagining in the car. Though, his daydreams paled in comparison to the real thing.

Again, he let you ride out your orgasm, not pulling out just yet.

"Hey... wanna see how many more rounds we can do before they wake up?"

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note I cannot write exhibitionism that well

[unintentionalseductress]

Caleb and Praise 🫦

♥ "That's my sweet girl," Caleb will coo as you curl up to him on the bed without invitation. "Want to be close to me huh?" His fingers will stroke your hair as you bury your nose into his chest, filing his body with warmth.

♥ "Look at how sweet you're being," he'll purr into your ear as he softly palms your breasts, pulling and tweaking those hard nipples as your cute little whimpers fill the room.

♥ "What an obedient little mouse you are." Caleb's fingers are rubbing your swollen clit through your soaked panties. Your thighs quiver but you keep them open knowing it pleases him. He slips the gusset to the side and continues to circle the throbbing nub as you gasp and writhe under his pleasurable touch.

♥ "You sound so cute when you moan like that," Caleb whispers as he sinks two of his fingers into your slick pussy. Knuckles deep and covered in your sweet nectar, he makes smooth motions on that patch of nerves inside while keeping up his pace on your clit while you sing so sweetly for him, your muscles taut and begging for release.

♥ "I know. It's ok. That was a lot I know. But you did so well baby girl." He strokes you through orgasm as your whole body trembles from the sweet climax he's given you, as his arm holds you tightly against him. He kisses your forehead, eyes soft with satisfaction as he looks at your vulnerable state.

♥ "That's it. My good girl. Taking me so well. Pussy clenching and milking this cock. It's all yours pretty baby." Caleb growls as he buries his shaft deep inside you, hips rocking against yours as his meat pistons in and out of your wet hole. Your body knows no resistance when it comes to him, and you're noisily letting your pleasure echo through the room as his cock fucks into you so deliciously, stretching you out in ways you hadn't felt before.

♥ "You're mine, my precious little one." Caleb snuggles your exhausted body on his chest, peppering your face with kisses. "You did so well my sweet doll."

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[gutsby]

My Body, His Choice

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: After a long day, Joel just needs some relief.

Warnings: 18+. Come get y’all juice (consensual freeuse). Unprotected p-in-v. Praise kink. Daddy kink. She/her pussy pronouns. Perverted but ever-respectful Joel.

Note: ‘Púdrete’ means ‘rot’ or ‘fuck you’ in Spanish.

Word count: 2.9k

It wasn’t often he’d fuck you anywhere but his bed.

At fifty-two, Joel was still old fashioned like that.

No matter how hard you tugged on the front of his shirt, begged him gently, baby, please take me right here on the kitchen table—on your desk—in your truck—really anyplace, Joel would shake his head and tote you away to his room. Then he’d blow your back out on a plush and cushy king-sized bed exactly how a gentleman should.

“Wasn’t raised to treat a lady any different,” he’d always say, sucking a breath through his teeth as he plunged his cock inside you from the comfort and quiet of his sheets.

‘Whatever you say, old man’ was your habitual response.

It was one that more often than not ended with you walking funny for the next couple days, thanks to that twenty-something stamina Joel was still able to boast.

So, with sore legs and a warm load leaking out of your cunt every night, you shut up. You didn’t mind being confined to his bed if it meant getting fucked like that. But you would let him know, every now and again or as often as you happened to be ovulating, that there was a freestanding offer for him to just…take, if he ever felt so inclined. The first time you’d said the real word for it, Joel had just smiled and kissed you on the top of your head.

“I’ll sure keep that in mind, sweet pea,” he’d chuckled.

Or, in boomer-speak: ‘No way in hell am I doing that.’

You’d made your peace with it. You’d quit wearing open-gusset undies in the hopes of getting bent over the sink while doing the dishes on a random Tuesday afternoon. You’d put all thoughts of freeuse out of your head and now just waited patiently under the covers at night if you wanted some action on the go. That was more than okay.

And when Joel thundered through the door an hour late one night, you just offered up a smile and a sleepy wave.

“Hi, handsome.”

You were splayed out comfortably on the sofa, and your favorite show was playing in a dim, muted glow on TV. Joel toed off his boots and ducked his head in the closet.

“I said he-llo, you big hunk.”

You regularly alternated between handsome, hunk, and some form of baby or beefcake if he appeared extra large that day. You hadn’t gotten a good look at his form coming in, but you figured you’d give it a stab, shoveling more popcorn in your mouth before returning to Narcos.

Somewhat garbled: “Well hello to you too, babycakes.”

It was either going to piss him off or earn you a big, wet kiss on the cheek—or both, if you were lucky. The words had scarcely hung in the air for more than a second or two, and your popcorn was going down in one slow, crowded gulp, when something fell heavy at your feet.

Your legs were stretched as far as they would go to the end of the couch, and Joel had just dropped his weight right next to them. Then he was leaning back, gingerly.

Carefully.

Joel groaned.

“God, he looks stupid,” he said, staring straight ahead.

You coughed. You winced at a sharp, lone kernel that had snagged your throat going down, and when it passed, you sat up and glanced over to where Joel was looking.

All you saw was a sexy, if not slightly anachronistically-mustached man with tight pants and a slutty stance onscreen.

“Javier Peña?” you asked him.

The man’s nostrils flared in response.

“With that stupid fuckin’ Members Only jacket— dumbass aviators, too, he looks like the biggest dou—”

“Joel!”

You blinked at your boyfriend in disbelief. He knew better than to abuse your favorite DEA agent right to your face. At last, Joel met your gaze, and his cheeks tinged pink.

“What? You wanna fuck him or something?” he snapped.

You turned back to the TV and pretended to consider.

“Hmmm…I don’t know, would Agent Peña come home an hour late with no explanation and then start griping about another man’s clothes when I try talking to him?”

“Yeah. And he’d probably backtalk you, too. In Spanish.”

“Púdrete.”

Joel scoffed.

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?”

You raised both brows as if to say, ‘Yeah, dude, fuck you.’

Maybe there was a smile behind your eyes as you said it.

You didn’t mean to give in, or let him off so easy, but there was just no grappling with a man in blue jeans and a sweaty, dirt-sodden shirt giving you a look like that.

His eyes smiled back.

You didn’t protest when Joel muscled his way over across the couch and pushed you back on your side. Yanking your hips to lay flush with his front, taking up most of all usable real estate on the sofa just to lie behind you and curl his bicep around your belly. He nosed against you and inhaled deeply. He hummed.

You spooned and watched Narcos in silence.

“Bad day?” you murmured at length.

“Bad don’t even begin to cover it.”

Joel let out a breath, and you felt it migrate through your skull. The whole weight of the world, or, more likely than not, some dipshits at work who’d cost their team a bid or delayed a project by a week, ten, or twenty, was hanging somewhere close over his shoulders and depressing his whole demeanor. His grip on you tightened even more.

“‘M’sorry,” he said.

“Me too.”

Joel’s fingers seared a string of small crescents in your skin through the fabric of your nightie. Realizing he was pressing in too much, he eased back. Flexed his hand.

“Ain’t no need to be—it’s on me.”

You felt a kiss land on your shoulder. Your eyelids fluttered as a scene of chaos broke out onscreen with some ill-fated raid or other, and Joel’s hand traveled up your side. It cupped one of your breasts through the sky-blue satin material, and just as fingers began to knead—

“I don’t actually wanna fuck Javi,” you sputtered, dumb.

Joel kissed the space between your shoulder and neck.

“I figured.”

Then his index and thumb found your hardening bud and pinched it between them, rolling the skin in soft, languid strokes. That, paired with the movement of lips up the length of your neck, had your head lolling back gently and your eyes struggling to focus on any of the mayhem unfolding in time. You wanted to turn away from it all—meet Joel’s mouth with a feverish kiss of your own—but when your torso jerked the slightest bit, trying to move, the arm around your front kept you pinned to the spot. Joel’s grey, stubbled chin tickled the shell of your ear.

“Keep watching, darlin’,” he mumbled.

A low whine sounded in your throat, a noise Joel was no stranger to. It bubbled up, almost reflexively, and then was swallowed back as by force when his left hand shifted from toying with your nipple to joining the hem of your dress. Your breath hitched when you felt the pads of three fingers make an easy, careless sort of petting motion between your legs. Stroking you gently there.

“‘M’sorry I was late comin’ home,” Joel continued in the same attritional vein, gliding his middle finger between where he felt the seam of your folds through your dress, “Makin’ you wait up, wasn’t too kind of me, huh, baby?”

“D-Don’t mind,” you shuddered, just as the tip of his pointer finger found your clit and made a circle around it with the other two—a torturous loop that lacked just enough pressure to make it feel really good, and teased.

You would’ve liked to press on, were it not for him, again:

“Aw, hell, honey.”

Your eyes snapped open, and fear seized you momentarily. Had something gone wrong?

Instead, when you glanced between your legs, you saw a stain—a crude Rorschach-looking splotch in its place. With all rational thought currently suspended and your brain in a primal fog of just wanting to fuck, you groaned.

“Joel, please.”

You know what to do. You know what you’re doing.

Joel continued to carry on as though he hadn’t heard you. He rubbed the wet spot even harder with his middle finger and let out the faintest trace of condescension with his breath, fanning warmly across your cheek. It was as though you could feel his big, stupid mouth forming a grin behind your head that made you purse your lips together and force back a whimper when he pressed.

“Left a real mess missin’ me here,” he chided, voice low, “Poor thing hasn’t been fucked in…what, twelve hours?”

You imagined the spot growing larger, gaining warmth and wetness and slick from the timbre of Joel’s voice alone. Nevermind the fact he was practically smearing it all through your panties, through your dress; you’d be soaking his hand in a puddle if he didn’t let up soon.

“Then fuck it again,” you gritted, hips stirring.

“But you’re so busy watchin’ your new man, I—”

At the last, you bucked pathetically against Joel’s hand.

“Don’t want him, Joel,” you moaned, “I need you.”

With what little strength you had left, you tried to turn your body to face the man behind you. He didn’t let you.

In fact, his hold constricted all the more unforgiving, and his right arm curled around your front from underneath you while his left hand took the plunge beneath your dress, finally. It was as torturous as it was fused with any pleasure, though, as his fingers made a pass through your panties, between your folds, and into your heat with little warning at all. Just a kiss to your cheek and then two thick fingers working inside your cunt all at once. You writhed at the stretch, and Joel nosed you again.

“I said you’re busy, baby,” he shushed, “Keep watchin’.”

Keep watching.

Like that wasn’t the most nonsensical instruction he’d ever given you, with his arm twisted over your front and his face in your hair and his fingers pumping in and out.

In and out.

“Don’t care about the fuckin’ show, Joel,” you keened.

He brushed the heel of his palm against your clit, and you could’ve cried from the sheer influx of pleasure.

“Sure you do, sweet pea, you’ve just been so—”

Joel pressed another kiss to your cheek and kept going.

“—busy, lately, it’s only fair I get to have my way, hm?”

Oh.

Oh.

You hadn’t heard his belt come undone. You were so focused on your own pleasure, and getting it fast, that you hadn’t stopped to consider for a moment whether Joel might be testing his ‘free pass’ after all this time.

And, as if to dispel any doubts, Joel kissed your shoulder.

“C’mon, baby, let me use this pussy how I need to.”

He couldn’t have made your body any more pliant and willing than if your limbs had been made of wax.

It was all happening like a dream, almost too good to be a real, flesh and bones man with his hand in your panties, your man, pulling the fabric aside and making you lie on your side while he tapped the head of himself right there.

The hand that had once been toying with your clit was now lifting your knee, parting your legs to make space for him behind you, just outside of you—sliding his dick back and forth at first while he left trails of kisses down your skin. You could cum from the friction of that alone, the little squelches of his skin on yours and the fact that you weren’t in a bed, for once, and he was doing it now. He was making use of your body and cherishing it whole.

In spite of that gaping chasm between you in strength and size, he was obeisant, in a way. Painstakingly slow.

“This okay, baby? Can daddy fuck you right here?”

Joel pressed the head of his cock right against the weeping ring of muscles, felt it pulse against him, and groaned. He let just the cusp of your folds suck him in, forming the slightest, shallowest ‘o,’ only for him to retreat, moving his dick back up and down your slit.

You’d already cried and told him, yes, yes, you can fuck me there, daddy, please—but Joel was too busy tilting your head back up to the screen. Making you open your eyes and watch the show, loath as you were to focus on anything else but the soft, steady brush of his member.

“Remember, hon, you gotta stay focused,” he said, too sweet, “Chin up and keep those legs spread for daddy.”

They were. You were. Your head was up, just barely, and your eyes were nearly brimming with tears from just how badly you needed him inside you. You whined when he kissed the side of your mouth, but loved it all the same because it made you feel safe where you were. At ease.

Joel held you open for him, the shelf of his belly nudging at the small of your back and only pressing harder as he sank in deeper. It was a sensation that felt almost foreign, the first inches he’d breached, as he filled you from a new angle and held you close, you whimpered.

“Fuck, that pussy stretches out so nice for me,” Joel let out in a groan, “Feels like she’s made just for me, huh?”

At that, you felt a hand pinch both of your cheeks, forcing your mouth in a little pout as you nodded fiercely.

“Y-Yes, daddy, she’s made for you, all for you.”

One inch retreating, three more pushing in. Joel’s breath was hot on your ear again, and you could feel the soft grey tufts of hair on his tummy fold into themselves against your back as he pushed even deeper. His cock parted the insides of your walls and fucked you open like it was nothing at all. Your eyes stayed fastened on the television screen, but, frankly there wasn’t a thing on the LED display that was registering more than a passing thought. You felt the hand on your face squeeze even tighter, then release. Then your head was tilting sideways of its own volition, and your body was not—being moved by Joel’s gentle thrusts now—and your lips somehow met his in a kiss. One of his moans bled into your mouth.

“Look so. damn. pretty. when you’re like this,” he panted, “Never look better than when you’re fucked out on this cock, don’t ya, sweet pea? Nod your head and tell me.”

You nodded. You told him. Or whimpered it, anyway.

It was exactly the same and somehow nothing like you’d felt with him before: a new place, a new position, but then just the way you were letting him have you was a territory left entirely uncharted for you both. He could take, and take, and take, keep fucking you until his old joints gave out, and you were a vessel for that pleasure. Your body was limp; Joel’s frame was imposing and always holding you up, milking from your cunt what he needed and always praising you for how good it felt.

“My pretty girl,” he murmured, words like syrup. Then, each new one punctuated with a thrust as he sped up, “Gonna let daddy cum inside this tight little pussy?”

And, to his shock and yours, the hole he’d been using all this time grew wetter, more slick, then was pulsing with arousal as an influx of pleasure washed over your body—your brain had barely registered his words before the rest of you was making an even bigger mess of it, welcoming Joel deeper each time as your cunt spasmed over again.

Pressed into the sofa with your hips tilted down, now, you didn’t need to supply a verbal answer, just pulling Joel closer and pleading in broken moans to paint you white inside. He, like you, probably couldn’t have kept it from coming out if he tried. His hands were gripping your body, pushing you down with the weight of his grasp and his thrusts and feeling too fucked out to even know how much of himself he was pouring inside you as he came.

But it filled you to the hilt, all the way down his length.

In fact, there was a moment Joel feared he might’ve stuffed you more full of cum than you could take. You’d just barely come down, still moaning and shaking and dripping with more nectar than you’d ever felt before.

Joel tried to wipe the pussydrunk look from his eyes—terrible and greedy and wanting to see what he’d left—and he was just about to pull out to make sure you were alright, when he felt something grip him. On him and around him, pinching his wrist and squeezing his length inside you, you couldn’t help but turn back to face him.

Your eyes were smiling again.

One hand had just started to inch up his arm, kneading the flesh like you needed something from him then too. Only now your gaze was drifting down to the place where your body and his were still joined, and from that look, Joel sensed there had to be a lot of him there—which is why he was shocked when next you said sweetly, softly,

“Can I have a little more, daddy?”

[scratchandfriends]

In Need of a Healer (+18)

Pairing: Halsin x Female Tav

WC: 2200

Summary: You accidentally mix up your mushrooms when trying to make a potion and it goes horribly wrong. Or... not so horribly, in the grand scheme of things?

Content Warnings: SMUT! Huuuge breeding kink, aphrodisiac situation, no bear :( big dick Halsin, unprotected sex, a smidge of dirty talk, maybe a little pregnancy kink Halsin at the end but who knows hes 400 years old, creampies.

— — 

Halsin sat under the pallid moonlight, back against the outside of his tent, humming contentedly as he whittled yet another small duck. A little smile decorated his chiseled face as he marveled at the way his craft looked in the pale starlight. The only thing he could hear was his own humming, the soft scrape of his knife against the wooden duck, and the soft chirping of crickets in the tall grass surrounding the camp. 

The peaceful sounds of a night at camp were eventually broken by hurried footsteps heading quickly towards his tent. 

Tav rounded the large tree that Halsin had set up his tent next to and was breathing heavily. She quickly came to a stop and let out a long sigh. 

“Oh, thank the gods you’re still up!” 

“Ah, Tav. A pleasure to see you on this beautiful night. How are you?” He looked up at her panting form and smiled. She seemed distraught and uncomfortable. 

“Been better actually.. but, um, how are..  you?” She asks, trying desperately to be polite but Halsin could tell there was something wrong. “I like your duck. Is that a new one?” Tav says between heavy breaths, like she had just run several miles. 

“Yes, it’s a canvasback duck. Very interesting species as it lives in both fresh and salt waters.” Halsin explains as he holds up his whittled figuring. 

“Right yes. Very cool.” Tav hurriedly spits out. 

“I can tell you aren’t here to discuss my hobbies, Tav. You seem… a bit perturbed. Anything I can help with?” Halsin asks. 

“Gods, yes. Or at least I hope… Can we talk… inside your tent?” Tav says as she turns her head around briefly, looking at the last light of the fire and wondering if anyone else was still up and about. “It’s… kind of embarrassing…” 

“Of course.” Halsin rises to his feet to hold the curtain of his tent open for her to enter ahead of him. She quickly ducks inside. 

Halsin gestures for her to sit on his makeshift mattress as he sits down on the stool at his desk littered with herbs and potions. 

“What’s ailing you? Your face seems flushed. Do you feel feverish at all?” Halsin says as he gets a better look at Tav, seated on his bedroll with their legs crossed, illuminated by the candlelight. 

Tav sighs. She looks down at her hands in her lap and wrings them uncomfortably. 

“Yes! I’m so warm!” Tav exclaims. “Okay so… I wanted to convince these squirrels to put on these little hats and ride on Scratch like a pony because I thought it would be cute, but I realized I was out of animal speech potions and I was trying to whip one up but I realized I used the wrong herb…. But Astarion said it would be fine! He gave the mushrooms to me after all!” 

Halsin chuckled. 

“A noble endeavor indeed. I would like to have seen that.” 

“And so the elixir looked fine, but I drank it and now I… I don’t feel so good…” Tav says quietly, but Halsin could hear the fear and worry in her voice. 

“Hmm… I see. Other than the flush and fever, do you have any other symptoms?” The druid asks, looking her over. 

“Well my skin, it has chicken-skin all over that won’t go away… and I can’t stop sweating… and well… there’s this painful ache…” She trails off. “Can I just show you?”

“Please do.” Halsin nods. 

Without warning, Tav strips her clothes off leaving her just in her underthings. She settles back on the bedroll and spreads her legs shyly. Once her knees were parted, it was very obvious to Halsin what the ache she was describing was. The gusset of her cloth panties showed a drenched patch covering her sex, the wet fabric sticking desperately to her meaty outer lips. 

“Aahh…” Halsin mused as he looked over Tav’s trembling body. “My assumptions were correct, it seems.”

“Your assumptions? And what were those, exactly? Speak plainly, will I survive?” Tav sits up on her elbows and presses her knees together again. 

“You must have used black mushrooms instead of acorn truffles. Similar in appearance, but very different in alchemical composition.” Halsin states as he flips through one of the books littering his desk. “I smelled your pheromones before you even appeared in front of my tent. Instead of the potion of animal speaking, you drank a potion of animal breeding.” 

“I bed your finest pardon? Shit, I mean beg! I beg your finest pardon?!” Tav becomes increasingly irritated and frustrated by the druid’s casual manner of speaking. 

“Yes, commonly used by ranch hands in order to increase the offspring output of their flocks, it drastically increases the heat cycle in mammals. I’ve never seen or heard of the effects of it on humans, but it seems it works the same.” Halsin replies, standing from the stool at his desk and approaching his bedroll where Tav laid. 

“So? Is there a cure, an antidote of some kind?” Tav pants. 

“Not that I know of. I know the effects subside once the animal has been mated, but I can’t say for certain how to dissolve the effects in a humanoid creature.” 

Tav groans and reaches her hand between her clenched thighs, clearly too far gone from the effects of the potion to care about modesty. Halsin sees her wrist flick desperately, but there was no relief on her face… he can’t help but find himself growing erect at the sight of her barely covered, sweaty body writhing in his bed. 

“You’re in pain… there might be a way I can help…” Halsin says softly, his eyes searching Tav’s pleading ones. 

“Anything. Help me, please.” Tav huffs out through gritted teeth. 

“I can… try to alleviate the pain through the intended means… If you’ll allow it.” Halsin’s eyes dart from Tav’s gaze to her hard nipples peaking through her bra and back to her face again. 

“You mean.. you’d fuck me? You think it would work?” 

“I can’t guarantee it, but I’m happy to give it a try.” Halsin replies with a soft smile. 

Tav thinks for a moment before sitting up fully and ripping her bra over her head and tossing it to the floor of Halsin’s tent. 

“Gods yes, I’ll do anything.” Tav shimmies her panties down her legs and throws them to join her discarded bra. “Do you need me to, you know… touch you a bit? To get things going?” She says sheepishly. 

“Hah, no..” Halsin chuckles. “Seeing you in my bed like this has made me harder than I’m keen to admit. Let me just…” 

Halsin takes a few moments to remove all his clothing. Once he was stripped bare, thick cock standing at attention, he turned back towards Tav and was met with quite the sight. 

Tav had shifted to her knees, face pressed into Halsin’s pillow with her ass arched high in the air in Halsin’s direction. He was met with her puffy, glistening folds being presented so desperately just for him. Slick drooled out like sap from a mighty maple tree, slowly seeping from Tav’s hole and coating her lips and thighs. He could see her engorged, pink clit peaking out from the apex of her slit, just aching to be touched. 

“Oak Father preserve me…” He says quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “What an incredible sight…” 

“Halsiiiinnnn…. Will you hurry uuuup?” Tav whined and wiggled her backside in the druid’s direction, beckoning him to enter her. 

“Right, of course. You will tell me if there’s any discomfort, yes?” He asks. 

“Yes fine yes, just fuck me.” Tav glares at him from her position pressed into the pillow. 

“As you wish…” Halsin takes his position behind Tav and guides the leaking tip of his cock to her entrance. “Bit of a stretch now, love…” Halsin coos as he pushes his hips into hers. 

“Aaaggh! Ah! Fuck!” Tav cries out and turns her head to bite down on his pillow. 

Halsin feels a gush of warmth on his pelvis and notices the hard squeeze of Tav’s cunt as his tip presses against her cervix deep within her. She had climaxed just from him bottoming out inside her. 

“Already?” Halsin chuckles again. “Do you feel better? Should I stop?” He runs a soothing hand down her spine. 

“Aahh!” Tav moans and pushes back on her knees, forcing him impossibly deeper. “More! Need more!” 

“The potion is stronger than I thought… very well… Hold on to something, dear.” Halsin warns as he wraps his large hands around Tav’s milky hips. He begins thrusting into her hard and with great purpose. Normally he would have to take time to prep his smaller partners, but the effects of the elixir had caused Tav’s body to accept his intrusion hungrily. “So warm… like nothing I’ve ever felt…” Halsin groans as he feels the impossible heat from Tav’s walls pulse around him sensually. 

“Harder! More!” Tav grits out, brow furrowed, fists clenched in Halsin’s sheets. 

Halsin mounts her fully, hunching his back over her to press his chest against her spine. His grip on her hips tightens as he humps into her harder. 

“Yes! Fuck! I-I’m cu-!“ Tav yelps out. “Ah!” 

Halsin feels her cunt clench on him hard again, the familiar spray of liquid a welcome feeling trickling down his thick thighs. After two orgasms, Halsin assumed she would finally be free of the potion’s effects. He pulls out of her and picks her shaking body up and positions her back down on his bed on her back. 

“Better now?” He smiles down at her. 

He was met with an even deeper look of desperation. 

“No. Need more!” Tav gasps out as she locks her arms behind his back. Without warning, Halsin was tossed on his back on the bed and Tav was hovering above him. She grips his dripping cock and lines it up to her sex, sinking down on it quickly. 

“Shiiiit yes…” Tav moans out and throws her head back in pleasure. She begins rocking hard against him, grinding her clit against his pelvis to stimulate all her senses. “Fuuuuck…”

“My darling…” Halsin says hesitantly as he places his gentle hands on her breasts, softly toying with her nipples. “Don’t hurt yourself…” 

“Fill me, Halsin, please!” She cries out loudly. “Breed me, Halsin. I need it!” She slams her hips down onto his impossibly fast. 

An animalistic, bear-like growl leaves Halsin’s lips. 

“You can’t say things like that, little dove.” He grits his teeth, trying to hold back from absolutely ravishing her body. 

“But please! I want you to fill me, need you to fill me! Put your fucking babies into me, Halsin, please!” Tav looks down finally and makes eye contact with the large elf. There was a wild, fiery heat glowing in her eyes. Who was he to deny her?

Halsin plants his feet on his bedroll and growls louder, his large hands moving to her waist. 

"Halsin, Halsin, Halsin!" Tav spills his name like an invocation as she bounces violently on his cock. "Breed me, please, Halsin!"

He uses this newfound leverage to slam his hips up into hers at a brutal pace, lost in the fantasy of filling her up with his seed. How gorgeous she would look swollen and heavy with his young… breasts plump with sweet milk...

“Yes! Yes!” Tav chants towards the sky as a cock-drunk grin spreads across her face. 

“I’ll give you what you need, love… stay still now… shit…” Halsin’s grip on Tav was sure to leave bruises in the morning. Tav was moaning loudly, clearly too far gone in her state to care about anyone else in camp hearing her. “I’m going to fill you now, be good and take it…” He grits out the last bit. 

Tav shrieks as she feels the first wave of hot spend fill her insides. Rope after rope of Halsin’s seed stuffed her to the brim, the druid grunting and panting beneath her, pushing her hips down on his so his tip kissed her cervix directly. 

Halsin breathes heavily as his orgasm abates and leaves Tav finally satisfied. 

“Woah…” Tav dizzily leans forward and collapses against Halsin’s broad chest. 

The pair laid in silence for several minutes catching their breaths. 

“Here, I’m going to lay you down now. I’ll make you some tea.” Halsin says as he lifts Tav off his softening cock and tucks her into his comforter. “Make sure you drink it before tomorrow.” 

“Mhmmmmph.” Tav snuggles tiredly into his mussed sheets, the effects of the potion finally dissipating now that she was stuffed full like a broodmare. She looked too serene in his bed, he couldn’t care less about the large mess she was no doubt leaking onto his mattress. 

So what if she didn’t drink the tea tonight… maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea…

Halsin would have to thank Astarion tomorrow. 

[joeloverture]

beneath the window | j.m. drabble

pairing: jackson!joel x f!reader summary: you suck off joel by his workbench. warnings: 18+ mdni. smut/pwp. deepthroating. sucking cock. praise. ball worship. joel miller is affectionate. he's also ever so slightly subby while maintaining slight dominance. oh and implied age gap. throatpie. word count: 1579 a/n: i wrote this in an hour i'm so so so so sorry. the new photos ruined me it's probably bad. i'm horny. down horrendous. want to please him. etcetera. enjoy in lieu of being sad. he lives on in our hearts blah blah blah. @ovaryacted this is for u.

Anyone passing the window of Joel Miller’s workshop would be none the wiser to what you got up to beneath the window sill.

It’s a lazy, idle Sunday morning. Dust motes float through honey-colored shafts of light coming in through the muddled glass. There’s not a sound except for the scuff and scrape of sandpaper on Joel’s latest woodworking venture.

The door is closer to his bad ear, and your footsteps are muffled by a pair of fluffy socks you’d nicked off of Ellie. He doesn’t hear you, shows no sign of noticing you until you’re right next to him. His breath cinches as you press a soft kiss into the plane of his neck. One hand rubs at the knobs of his broad shoulders, the other trailing down his abdomen to preemptively flick the button on his jeans wide open.

“Whatcha doin’, honey?” he croons as soon as you’ve sunk to your knees. You let out a soft little noise as you kiss down his clothed abdomen. It tightens under your ministrations. The scraping at Joel’s desk stops as he reaches a hand down to cup your cheek. A calloused thumb brushes at your parted lips, luring a breath out of you.

“Nothing, Joel,” you say, an innocent glaze slicked over your wanting eyes.

“Mmm, don’t look like nothin’ to me.” His thumb tugs at the petal of your lower lip. You nudge the corner of your forehead into his pudge, feeling him. Breathing him in, that smell of pine burning in a hearth. His eyes shoot shut when your nose taps at the tip of his cock through his jeans. “Been missing me, sweetheart? ‘S that what this is? I ain’t been lovin’ on ya enough.”

“You love on me plenty, baby. Gotta let me love on you.” You bully the zipper down with a simper crooking at your lips.

His cock is already half-hard. He’s told you it’s pavlovian, whatever the hell that means. Something about how whenever you’re around, he can’t stop himself from needing you. From the heat between your thighs that feels like a startled sunburn, from the slick already leaking into the gusset of your panties, you suppose you’re pavlovian too. 

You spit hastily into your hand, giving him a quick pump before you circle your hot mouth around his head, flushed and wanting. Joel groans, hips giving a shallow jerk against his stool. You give him a chastising glare — he’s already had to put the seat back together three times after… incidents.

“Alright, alright,” he relents. His hands leave you altogether, returning to the clutter upon his desk. You hear a knife scritching at wood, the wet suckle of your mouth against his tip. His breaths are choppy as you suckle on him, tongue working at the vein below his cock. Your fist, as small as it is compared to his wide girth, tries its best to wrap around the base, now fully hard and solid. He lets out a jagged pant as you dip your head deeper, urging his cock further back in your throat. More saliva meshes between your mouth and his cock, and he gives a bit of a jerk between your tongue and the roof of your mouth.

A shaky breath tumbles out of him. “Shit,” he exhales as you hear a noise a little too similar to the prick of his carving knife against his thumb. He might be crafting, but you see the blister of his gaze on you, two hot coals searing through your skin. Looking through you, seeing your basest desires. 

“There ya go,” he rasps as you bob your head at him, swirling your tongue around where he stretches your lips wide open. You tug back, tongue slipping out to lave at the precum oozing from his slit. “So pretty,” Joel says, eyes only on you. 

You smile as you dip below the curve of his cock. You raise a slippery palm to his balls, already within arms reach on account of how low they hang. With a little squeeze, his hips cant up again, and you arch a brow at him. Joel groans, hand fumbling down to the back of your head. It’s too gentle to urge, but just stern enough to cradle you as your lips lock around one of his fuzzy balls. Your tongue swipes and spirals along the thin skin as your hand goes to join, toying with the other. You all but fondle him, working him over, under, and around; all of the ways you’ve gotten to know him in your relationship. You suck at his sack.

You shouldn’t be all too surprised to hear his strained whimper, but he does. His cock twitches from the lack of attention. You pout at him. “You’re so needy, Miller.”

“For you, darlin’? Hell, I’m lucky I ain’t already creamed in that tight little throat ‘a yours. Keep goin’.” You whine at the praise, a low keen in your throat as your thighs stitch together again. You give him an all but wanton look, diving back into his sack.

You suck and tweak and slurp at his balls, alternating between the two. He seems to forgo all attempts of woodworking as he has one hand wrapped with an ironclad grip around the ledge of his desk, and another, much gentler hand, wound against the back of your head.

You give an especially hard suck to the ball in your mouth, a rush trickling through you as you feel it tense up between your locked lips. “Fuck me, honey, ‘s so good. You’re so good.” His head dips forward, eyeing you as you tongue at him. You hold eye contact with him, absorbing that heaving in his chest, the jump of his Adam’s apple, the crook in his brows that you’ve kissed so many times before. His eyes are blown wide above you, breath torn in his lungs. 

You swish saliva in your mouth as you draw back and loosen a string of it along the bulk of his cock, all the way to his slit. He flinches, entire body drawn tight and loose at the same time. His nails dig into the back of your skull, nudging you forward. “Oh, goddamn. C’mon, honey, suck it. Know you wanna suck it f’ me.”

You only languidly pump him, smearing the saliva you’d just spread all over him. You flick your tongue over the tip, followed in close succession by your thumb. You tuck your head lower, determined to take him as close to the base as you can get it. You make room for him in your throat, nudging him deeper and deeper with each shattering breath he takes. His cock almost springs into the back of your throat, tapping at your gag reflex, cozying up beyond it. You gag, sputtering. Spit hangs out of your lips, drags along his length. His groan is debauched.

His voice is hoarse and roughened with desire as he says, “Pretty fuckin’ thing, gagging on my cock. So damn good at that.” You would smile around him if not for how much he stretches your mouth out.

You settle for bobbing your head faster, letting him barge against the back of your throat again, again, again. You choke and heave lightly against his cock, which serves to only quicken his breathing. From where you are on your knees, you can see the clamping of his abdomen. You pull back only to sink back down, taking him from his swollen, leaking head all the way to his base. You nestle your forehead against his stomach, a tiny little whine stumbling out of you. Your fist tightens around the part of him that can’t fit into your mouth.

Joel’s hips jerk. Ragged groans spill from his throat. His hips buck at every single swivel of your tongue against him, even more so at every grasp your throat takes around him. He whimpers. Your eyes burn and you aren’t sure why until a crystalline tear leaks over your waterline. Precum tickles down into your throat and you swallow it instinctively.

Joel makes a noise as if he’s been punched. His cock jerks in your throat, balls tighten under his base. His cock catches at the back of your throat. He gasps out, “Blowin’ me like it’s your fuckin’ job, goddammit, oh honey that’s, shit, baby, I’m coming, I’m comin’—”

His tip bumps the back of your throat. His moan is subdued and so, so breathy. Your navel sinks with heat as he breaks in your mouth, hands clambering against the desk, against your head, wherever he can find purchase as his cock spews cum down your throat. You whine, swallowing him down through his peak. His hips buck and jerk, thighs tightening and loosening. His body loosens, slumping against the desk. His gasps and the glucking of your throat is all you hear. 

“G-good girl. Thas’ a good girl for me,” he exhales. He pulls back, fully spent and heaving from pleasure.

“Mhm, you’re welcome,” you quip, smirking. 

His thumb reaches up to swipe a tear from your eye. He pats his thigh as he gets up, tucking himself into his jeans. He hisses from oversensitivity. “C’mon girl. I might be done, but I can smell that sloppy little slit from up here.”

He clears his desk in one swipe, and based on that dark glint in his eyes, you’ll be lucky if he lets you stop at two.

[drgnflyteabox]

18+mdni, best friends younger brother!johnny comes back from deployment and corners you in her living room, gross dirty talk, super dubcon, reader says "don't" but johnny does, fingering, cross swinging on his hairy chest, a bit of humiliation, "little" used affectionately (and grossly) not as a size indicator, random pet names

“Yer such a pretty little girl,” Johnny breathes. He's sick, so sick. Your stomach tightens and flips as he drags his fingers over your bare thighs. You don’t stop him.

“So soft,” he murmurs against your neck. “Aren't ye?”

An uncontrollable tremor starts in you, building from your belly. You gasp when he reaches your panties, legs frozen, like they’re unsure of whether to open or close.

Johnny's always been dirty and weird, inappropriate and pushy. The kind of guy that takes eye contact as an invitation to start acting like a dog. It's only now that he's got you alone, hand up your skirt, that you realize all of Maisie’s warnings were really serious.

Those intense eyes burn into the side of your face, watching every little micromovement you make as he rubs your clit through the fabric of your panties. You're hot in the face, embarrassed, unsure. You think of Maisie walking back in the front door, of her parents, of anybody seeing you this way.

“Ah can see yer thinkin’,” Johnny says. His fingers pull the damp gusset aside and finally touch wetness.

“Maybe we should stop,” you rush out. Your breath is coming heavy, now. Labored. You're trembling worse, hand coming up to squeeze Johnny's shirt in your fist.

“Shh, it's fine,” he says. “Yer a good little girl, aren't ye? Be good.”

“I’m older than you,” you laugh, shifting your hips, squirming.

Johnny grins and leans in to suck your earlobe, puffing hot breaths against your jaw. The rough pads of his fingers pull the hood of your clit up, then press down onto your vulnerable clit.

You suck in a breath, jerking upwards, running from the intensity of the feeling. Blood rushes in your ears, a high keening sound cutting through the air, rising from your throat.

“Oh, God, don’t do it like that–”

But he continues, climbing bodily into your lap to hold your hips down. God, he’s fucking heavy. He shoves his hand fully into your panties, leaning over you. Rubs without mercy.

You shout, struggling a little, breath caught in your throat.

“S’alright, pretty girl,” he grunts. He pulls his hand out only for a moment to pull his shirt off, reaching right back down as your mouth opens and closes helplessly.

“Maisie–”

“Isnae gonnae be back fer another half hour,” he cuts you off, curling two fingers into your hole. It’s too much, too much, too much, but you arch your back and whine.

Your vision gets hazy, stuck under him, so close you can smell his musk and his shitty cologne. His chest, bare, hairy, takes second place to the cross swinging in your face as he stuffs his fingers in and out clumsily.

He growls over you, using his other hand to grab yours and grinding into it. You’re loose, useless, gasping and sighing, muscles jellified.

The cross stares you down, but it only serves to make your cunt even tighter on his fingers. Squeezing. You stare at it, then past it, at his fat pecs.

“Makin’ a mess of ye, honeypie,” he licks your cheek, tongue close enough to your eye that you flinch, pushing his chest and shoulders close enough that you feel boxed in. You can’t move, can’t hump his fingers desperately like you want to.

Your cheek is wet with his spit, drying cold.

“That’s right, honeypie, ye gonnae come fer me?”

He uses your hand like a toy, grinding hard into it, groaning. His pace is messy, staccato rhythm making your wrist sore with the force of it.

“Gimme it,” he pants.

You start to come, trapped and crushed and face falling forward into the warmth of him, shaking though your legs are trapped by his bulk. Johnny notices, grunting words you can’t hear into your ear, pressing impossibly closer, and following suit.

When you slump, shivering with the aftershocks, Johnny sits back on your lap and pulls his fingers out of you. He puts them in his own pants, into his own mess, and brings his hand up to your mouth.

“Show me yer tongue,” he says, voice still thick.

You frown, scrunching your face, turning away.

“Maisie–”

“Sh,” he cuts you off. “Open yer mouth, show me yer tongue.”

“Gross–”

When you don’t, he squeezes your jaw until you open your mouth, tongue out.

He rubs the mix of you both on his tongue, all four fingers stuffing your mouth, making you cough and choke.

“Better get cleaned up,” he laughs when he’s done, sliding back onto the couch with the attitude of a lazy cat. “Maisie's gonnae be back any second now, honeypie."

[oceantornadoo]

best friend!johnny mactavish x f!reader SMUT

you know a regular best friend shouldn’t touch you like johnny does. unfortunately, you let him do it anyways. he always has to have a hand on you: squeezing your waist in passing, pinching your earlobe when you’re not listening to him, a hand on the nape of your neck as he walks next to you. it leads to a lot of confusion with others, but you love it, love knowing where your friendship stands based on how much he touches you. some might call it anxious attachment but to you it’s survival, having lived through toxic friendships with shady people. unfortunately, it also means whoever you go out to dinner, the waiters assume you’re on a date.

johnny told you to get dolled up so here you are in your favorite cocktail dress, his hand on your thigh as you eat at the bar. it’s better than any date you’ve ever been on, mainly because your favorite sports team is playing on the bar TV and you can burp whenever you want.

before you leave, the woman who’s been staring at him all night approaches. she’s pretty and when his hand drops from your thigh, your heart sinks. “excuse me if this is too forward, but are you two on a date?” you shake your head no before johnny can answer, already sullen. she smiles sweetly at you before turning to johnny, hands fidgeting adorably. she introduces herself and sticks out her hand, which johnny takes. “john.” he replies, and you frown, having never heard him use that version of his name. “i just wanted to say i think you’re handsome and was wondering if i could get your number?” johnny’s eyes flick over her head and land on yours, eyebrows raised. you freeze your facial expression, not sure what he wants from you. finding something in your eyes, he turns back to her and shakes his head. “‘m nae datin’ right now, lot happenin’ at work. ah appreciate the offer tho'.” he shoots her a charming smile and even though she’s been rejected, the power of it sends her flittering. “oh, it’s no worry! enjoy your night.” and with that, she takes her leave.

“you could’ve said yes. we’re on leave.” he shrugs, flagging the bartender for another round. “could’ve.” he buys you one round, then two, until you complain about having an early morning tomorrow (it’s a yoga class but you hold firm anyway).

he tells the taxi driver there will be only one stop, his address slurred out. “i have to go home, johnny,” you pout, making no move to tell the driver your own address. when the car stops at his place, johnny crowds your back, his chest pressed to the seam of your spine. you take his keys from his hand, a familiar dance of unlocking the building door and walking up the stairs, fiddling with his three locks until they all click. you toe off your heels and collapse dramatically on his couch. your stomach is heavy from dinner and drinks, eyes closing as you consider giving into an impending food coma. when you blink them open again, it’s too late. johnny’s shadow falls on yours, his weight smothering you into the couch.

“get off, johnny, i'm too full for this.” his head is flush to your stomach, a place he’s touched with hands but never like this. you thread your hands through his mohawk and half-heartedly try to push him away. “off.” he grumbles at your tone, giving in slightly to your ministrations as he slides down. your dress is rucked up to your thighs and you don’t realize it until the gentle fabric of his shirt brushes them.

“johnny…” he turns, eyes dark as his face presses into your lower belly. “ah can make ye feel good, hen.” he slides further, his nose bumping the gusset of your underwear as you remember how you forgoed shorts under your outfit. your hips buck at the sudden pressure against your clit, encouraging him further. “it’s jus’ me, lass. can smell ‘er from here.” you whine at his tone and the force of his gaze. johnny exhales onto the seam of your cunt, sending you shivering as his breath cools the wet spot on your panties. your core pulses, making the decision for you.

“ok.” you whisper. he yanks your underwear to the side, pressing his nose to your aching clit. you buck again but this time he holds you down, strong hands beating the muscle of your legs. his tongue peeks out and licks, the smooth glide of it a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. “taste s’ fuckin’ good.” he has to be lying but his eyes seem truthful, wide and eager like a puppy dog. your hand is still in his hair and you tug him up until his mouth finds your clit, sucking gently. “you’re a mutt, y’know that?” you slur, drunk on the power in your hands. all johnny does it nod and suck more, his thumb finding your hole and easing you open. he plays you like an instrument, adjusting his ministrations based on the sounds you emit. despite only one finger inside you, you feel full, and wet from johnny's constant touches at dinner.

your orgasm creeps up on you easily, core fluttering as johnny makes a mess of your cunt. you can feel wetness slip down onto the couch, but with how much johnny is enjoying himself, you don’t even feel embarrassed. the spell is broken when you hear keys in the door, unlocking it loudly.

“johnny, johnny, it’s si-", he cuts you off with another finger pressed into you, scissoring them so he can press your cunt closer to his face. you squeeze your eyes shut and when you open, a hulking mass of a man is trekking through the living room. “fuckin’ ‘ell, you two lost me a tenner t' gaz.” you can’t even respond, johnny eating you out with renewed vigor. with every lick and suck, he brings you closer and closer to the edge. simon opens his bedroom door and slams it shut, the sound of rock music drifting through his walls a moment later.

“fuckin’ squeezin’ ma fingers, bonnie. c’mon, ah ken ye want t’ come.” he rarely calls you bonnie and that’s what sends you over the edge. as your core flutters, you remember the other times he’s called you that. in a hospital room, cuts on your brow and your arm in a sling. in a desert with dirt in every crevice, a week without showering. and now, at the altar of your thighs, eating you like his last meal. johnny keeps licking at you until you tug him off forcefully.

despite you being the one to orgasm, he looks wrecked. lips red with effort, his stubble shining with your wetness. he gives you that same charming smile and you close your legs, never minding his fingers still inside you. “taste like heaven, hen.” you squeeze your thighs until he removes his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them like a lollipop. worry crashes over you like a wave as nerves buzz under your skin.

“is that- are we-“ you scramble off the couch, escaping to his bedroom with johnny on your heels. “‘s wrong?” your underwear is half off your legs and there’s wetness between your thighs and you’re worried that you’ve changed the one friendship you can depend on. that’s what’s wrong. you try to cover your eyes with your hands, but he doesn’t let you, tugging them so they’re pinned to your sides.

“doe, talk t’ me.” you sniffle, completely undignified. “i just- can’t lose you as a friend, johnny. you’re my best friend.” johnny kisses you, your slick wet on his lips. he pulls back before you can blink. “dinnae think anythin’ else, hen. y’r my best friend too. nothin’s changin’.” you frown, gesturing between you two. “what about…” he shrugs. instead of answering, johnny tugs your dress over your head. skilled hands slide your underwear down your thighs. he leaves for his closet and returns a moment later, a worn t-shirt in your hands. you put your hands up and he slides the shirt over your head in a practiced manner. “better?” you nod, still confused. “made us closer friends, righ’?” you nod again. “nothin’s changed, then. we make the rules.”

when you climb into bed, something feels wrong. he sleeps like usual, on his side with a bit of space between you. when you turn around, your back to him, it finally clicks. “you didn’t come.” you murmur. the bed moves as he shrugs. “‘ll get off in the morn.” instead of replying, your hand fumbles behind you until you find his stomach. he doesn’t stop you, allowing your hand to dip down into his boxers. his cock is heavy in your hands, thick and straining with effort. you scoot closer but the angle is awkward, your hand slipping as you try to put it in. johnny takes the reins, a large hand covering yours as he eases his cock into your seeping hole, still wet from earlier. johnny tugs you into him with a hand to your lower stomach, pressing against the slight bulge there. “sleep, hen, an’ i’ll fuck ye in the mornin’.” finally satisfied and full with the weight of him as your hole stretches, you sleep.

more best friend johnny here