remember when i said i was trying to quit smoking…
…yeahhh
anyway ghost has a cigarette settled between his chapped lips all while staring up at you. you’re riding him, although your movements are sloppy.
one massive hand sits atop your thigh, relaxed but every so often he gives it an encouraging squeeze cause “you’re doing such a good job for me, darlin’”
you’re sensitive. barely able to sit up straight as your pubic bone grinds against the patch of hair at the base of his cock. he’s buried so deep you don’t know where you end and he begins.
he has a hand resting behind his head, his biceps and the fat of his arms bulging each time he tenses. your inner walls drag along a vein that makes his eyes almost roll back into his skull.
“tha’s it…tha’s my girl. use me. i know that pussy’s missed me. let’s make sure she gets her fill.”
Price who pins you down with that heavy meaty weight of his body, thick cock buried deep inside, stretching your cunt open so good just like he used to. Got one of your thighs shoved up against your chest, fingers digging into the soft spill of your flesh, slow grinding of his hips dragging broken whimpers out of your throat that you hate yourself for making.
Years. Fucking years he was gone, vanished like smoke, and the second you finally started piecing yourself back together, he showed up at your door with that same damn cigar between clenched teeth and (cruel) blue eyes that always saw too much.
“Missed this tight cunt,” he grunts, voice rough as honeyed gravel, beard scraping your neck as he bites down, sucking a fresh mark into your skin. “Knew you’d still open up for me.”
You whimper, fingers digging into his shoulders, half pushing him away and half pulling him closer. He feels it, chuckles low, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours as he grinds deeper, the fat head of his cock kissing that spot that makes your vision spark white.
“Shh, easy love,” he murmurs, all honey and smoke, the manipulative bastard. One big hand slides up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing into your bottom lip to keep your mouth open for him, dirty fingers pushing down onto your slick tongue. “Don’t fight it. You were never good at pretending you didn’t need this.” and you hear the need me go unsaid, implied.
He pulls out almost all the way, just the tip stretching your slick hole, then slams back in hard enough to punch the air from your lungs. “Look at you. Already creaming on my cock again. Bet no one else could make you this wet, could they?”
His pace picks up, heavy balls slapping against you with every thrust, the wet obscene sound of it filling the room alongside your desperate gasps. He’s watching your face the whole time- hungry, possessive, a little mean.
Trying so hard to ignore the look in his eyes that says he knows exactly how much he wrecked you when he left, and exactly how easily he can do it again.
“kyle...“ you hiccup, tear tracks streaking down your cheeks.
“i know, baby—hmff— just.. let me do this, please?” kyle whines from between your legs, his hands pushing your thighs apart further when they tried to clamp around his head.
he’s been eating you out for an hour now, his feverish need to quench his thirst that only your slick can produce was overwhelming. it was kyle’s first time eating someone out, and he was hooked.
“can’t—! i can’t,” you gasped into your elbow, your arm slung over you face, dampening your skin from your tears. hips jolting when his tongue flicks your clit.
“one last time, yeah? it’ll be the last time, swear.” you knew he was lying, because that’s what he said before, which was numerous orgasms ago.
your brain, much like the rest of your body, was melted to mush; it was hard to think when all you could say was kyle, kyle, kyle, and all you could feel was his glossy lips pecking your slit before tonguing it.
your hands dug into the sheets, balling them into your fists. “wait—i can’t… kyle please—“ words that you couldn’t comprehend spilled from your lips, your legs trembling harder and your stomach tensing. tighter, tighter, oh god—
his glassy and low eyes watched your face, watched as your head fell back against the pillow, watched as your body convulsed and grew limp.
kyle pulled away, his face reddened from the lack of oxygen. he had to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from immediately dipping down when he watched your cum sticking to your inner thighs and bed sheets.
for @conigliettoooo sorry it took ages I had exams! :p
Cw piss! dubcon if you squint
Your left arm draped across your face as the other fisted the sheets next to you, your legs wrapped around Simon’s thick waist. Your pussy had never been this sore before but this time Simon had been going for hours, claiming he had to make up for missed times whilst on deployment.
“Si,” you whined, dragging out his name, “it’s been ages I’m all sore. Can’t cum anymore, it hurts.” You complain, unsure how you’ll even be able to walk once he lets up and pulls out of you.
“I’ll help you baby, need something warm to make you feel better?” Simon says, condescension dripping in voice, leaning down to kiss where your neck meets your shoulder.
“J-just take it out!”
“If you say so.” You feel his lips moving into a smirk against your skin, as he reaches down to pull his cock out of you, but doesn’t make the effort to let go of his length.
“Told you I’m gonna make it feel better baby.” He says, as you feel a stream of warmth and wetness hitting your clit. You jolt and squeal, attempting to move away from the stream of piss, but Simon keeps you still, and adjusts his aim.
“Simon, you’re so gross!” You exclaim, swatting his shoulder. “I just changed the sheets!”
“Yeah, but doesn’t your pussy feel better now?” You look away and don’t answer, because he actually is right. “Means I can keep going now then, yeah?” He goes back to kissing and sucking at your skin, and moves his hard cock back to your entrance.
for @conigliettoooo sorry it took ages I had exams! :p
Cw piss! dubcon if you squint
Your left arm draped across your face as the other fisted the sheets next to you, your legs wrapped around Simon’s thick waist. Your pussy had never been this sore before but this time Simon had been going for hours, claiming he had to make up for missed times whilst on deployment.
“Si,” you whined, dragging out his name, “it’s been ages I’m all sore. Can’t cum anymore, it hurts.” You complain, unsure how you’ll even be able to walk once he lets up and pulls out of you.
“I’ll help you baby, need something warm to make you feel better?” Simon says, condescension dripping in voice, leaning down to kiss where your neck meets your shoulder.
“J-just take it out!”
“If you say so.” You feel his lips moving into a smirk against your skin, as he reaches down to pull his cock out of you, but doesn’t make the effort to let go of his length.
“Told you I’m gonna make it feel better baby.” He says, as you feel a stream of warmth and wetness hitting your clit. You jolt and squeal, attempting to move away from the stream of piss, but Simon keeps you still, and adjusts his aim.
“Simon, you’re so gross!” You exclaim, swatting his shoulder. “I just changed the sheets!”
“Yeah, but doesn’t your pussy feel better now?” You look away and don’t answer, because he actually is right. “Means I can keep going now then, yeah?” He goes back to kissing and sucking at your skin, and moves his hard cock back to your entrance.
contains; boot humping, humiliation, degradation mixed with praise
You love teasing Ghost while he's at work on your days off—sending him filthy messages, describing exactly how your fingers slid through your slick folds, how you imagined his cock filling you. You knew exactly what you were doing. And fuck do you regret it now.
The rough polyester of his uniform trousers scratches against your cheek as you while you look up at him with teary eyes, searching for any scrap of mercy. The scent of him—gunpowder, sweat, that sharp masculine musk that clings to his skin after a long shift—fills your lungs with every desperate breath. Your knees ache against the hardwood floor, the pressure a dull throb that punctuates each frantic rock of your hips. His boot is slick with your arousal now, the black leather darkened and glistening where you've been riding it like a desperate animal in heat—the need is a living thing inside you, clawing at your insides, demanding release.
Simon's eyes are dark pools of amusement as he watches you descend into ruin. He's tilted back in his chair, legs spread wide, the outline of his cock straining against the metal zipper of his trousers. You can see the damp spot where precum has beaded at the tip, darkening the fabric. He's hard—so fucking hard—but he shows no sign of easing your torment. His hand rests on your head, fingers threading through your hair with a gentleness that belies his cruelty.
"Si... please” the words tear from your throat, ragged and broken. Tears blur your vision, hot tracks carving paths down your flushed cheeks. Some drip from your chin, splattering onto the leather of his boot. You're a mess—makeup ruined, hair a tangled disaster, body shaking uncontrollably.
"Is it too much?" The question drips with faux sympathy, his voice a low purr that vibrates through your skull as his thumb brushes a tear away with mock tenderness. You nod frantically, more tears spilling free, your lips parting to beg again—
"Good. Keep going."
The command drops an octave, deep and final. The sound of it settles in your bones like a warning. A whine escapes you, high and pathetic, as your hips stutter against his boot. You're so close. So fucking close. The edge is a razor's breadth away, a precipice you've been dangling over for what feels like hours. Every time you think you'll tip over, the pressure shifts, the angle changes, and the wave recedes, leaving you gasping and empty.
"I can't," you sob, your movements halting completely. Your arms wrap around his calf, hugging it like a lifeline, your forehead pressing against his knee. "Please, I can't—"
His fingers find the nape of your neck, grip tightening on your hair, and he yanks your head back with brutal precision. Your spine arches, a gasp punched from your lungs. Through tear-blurred eyes, you meet his gaze—those cold, calculating eyes that see right through you. "Should've thought about that before being a fucking tease." His voice is a low growl, vibrating with restrained dominance. "Sending me those texts, huh? Thinking you could wind me up and I'd forget about it when I got home?"
You can't respond. Your throat is too tight, your breath coming in ragged pants. The tears flow freely now, a silent admission of guilt. Sensing your need, your submission, he tilts his boot upward. The leather toe catches your clit through the soaked fabric, a sharp, deliberate tap that sends a jolt of electricity straight through your pelvis. Your body convulses, a broken moan tearing from your chest. The sensation is too much and not enough all at once.
"Move," he orders.
Your whimper of protest is swallowed by instinct. Your hips roll forward, grinding desperately against the boot, chasing that spark of pleasure-pain. You hate yourself for how easily you obey, how your body responds before your mind can catch up. But the need is overwhelming, a primal force that strips away all dignity.
Simon watches with hungry satisfaction. Your fucked-out, tear-streaked, utterly broken face, how you look up at him with those glossy, hazy eyes. The way you hug his calf, fingers digging into the fabric of his trousers, as you hump his foot like a bitch in heat—only his to admire, to humiliate.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his hand moving from your hair to cup your jaw. He tilts your face up, forcing you to maintain eye contact as you continue your frantic movements. "Fucking desperate. Is this what you wanted?" He squeezes your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout. "To be begging for permission to come on my boot?"
A sob escapes you, but you can't answer. Your hips only move faster, your breath coming in sharp, frantic gasps. The pressure is building again, that coiled heat in your belly tightening, threatening to snap. But you know he won't let you. Not yet. Not until he's extracted every ounce of punishment for your earlier teasing.
His thumb traces your lower lip, pressing inside, and you instinctively suck, tasting the salt of your own tears mingled with his skin. "Good. That's it," he praises, the words a venomous caress. "Show me how sorry you are." And you do. Because there's nothing else you can do. Because this is exactly where he wants you—on your knees, shattered and desperate, your pleasure dangling just out of reach, his to give or withhold as he sees fit. And as you continue to grind against his boot, you know that it's going to be a long night.
toji's question comes out slurred, like he isn't entirely aware of what he's asking you. maybe like the thought itself is something that was never meant to leave his lips.
you look up at him with bated breath, trying to cut through the fog in your brain and the overwhelming feeling of him inside you. his thrusts hold steady, even as you cling to his bare shoulders and whimper into his neck while your brain struggles to come up with an answer.
"did he? c'mon." he encourages, slowing to a subtle roll of his hips to let your mouth catch up with your mind. just enough to stimulate you, but not enough to render you completely speechless.
"no, never." you whine. toji's thrusts seem to speed up a bit at that, shoulder squaring out just the slightest bit under your trembling fingers
“did he make you cum like me?” the way he asks you is so unbelievably casual compared to a couple minutes ago. like your answer from earlier was enough to clear his head and boost his already massive ego.
“course he didn't.” you chuckle breathlessly. you catch the corner of his mouth turn up at the confession, tongue flitting out to wet his lips. you can feel every inch of him like this. his heavy, girthy dick bowing under the weight of itself between your legs.
“what was it, hm?” toji asks. his fingers close around your chin, pads digging in to press your lips into a little pout. “dick too small? couldn’t hit the right spots? tell me."
"no one's as big as y--fuck." you've barely gotten the full sentence out before he's pressing himself to the hilt, letting go of your face in favor of rubbing his thumb in circles over your budding clit. a watery cry leaves your lips and toji's dick twitches hard, right up against that achy spot under your belly button.
he knows exactly what he's doing and how to do it. making you cum around the length of him while you tell him how good he makes you feel. how big he is, how much better he is at fucking you. the peak of your climax hits you like a truck and just like that, he's cumming. jerking his hips back to pull out and spill all over your mound and in between your legs before scooping you up into a messy, heated embrace.
There is something enthralling about having the man you love beneath you like this. More than beneath you, his worn, battle-weary knees pressed into the plush rug of your living room and you don’t miss the faint anise his lower back makes as he adjusts his posture. Drawn upon his hands and knees like a prized hound, Johnathan Morgan Price presents his body to you to do as you please. A silly headband, fitted with floppy ears that blend in so well with not only the chestnut of his cropped hair, but also the silvering at his temples. He’d thought it uncouth, the entire scenario, but most importantly the idea that they would not be pointed. Cropped for intimidation.
You had smiled, cooed that he’d be like a hound. Intelligent, loyal, but so incredibly dedicated. He is dependable, isn’t he? They’re not just floppy, they’re a little long and he suspects that you perceive him as something akin to a Beagle or something louder.
But John doesn’t have time to think about that as you urge him forward, his breath a soft huff through his nostrils as you nudge as his stiff, aching cock with your socked foot. You haven’t touched him aside from stroking him to hardness and he’s painfully erect, resisting the urge to arch his hips into your fleeting touch. He can be good. He can be the fucking best if he has to.
In between your hands is your newest accessory for him, his eyes blinking wide and the pretty tag of his collar jingling softly as his head jerks upward in interest. A fat plug, though it appears that way to him, it’s actually quite slim, retrofitted with a slender, brown tail. It’s a tawny color that matches his ears and John burns hot with both arousal and concern.
(I'm trying to make myself less miserable, you see. Enjoy the next few paragraphs of straight up filth, lovie <3)
WARNING: The following contains: AFAB reader, male receiving oral (somewhat?), hair pulling, slightly mean Price, submissive reader, use of 'good girl', slightly condescending speech from Price, female genitalia, male genitalia.
Price but less angst, more making your cunt weep instead of your pretty lil eyes.
I said what I fucking said.
That man? He doesn't play around, not in the slighest.
Unless it's a cat and mouse game. Well, more... tiger and poor rodent that was doomed from the beginning.
He likes the dyanmic, that net flow of power that only serves to exhilarate him further. Gives his ego a good stroking too. Even if he secretly does prefer your hand wrapped around his throbbing cock, stroking him instead but... hey, he's not complaining.
Now, he doesn't just love the power. He also absolutely adores the sight of you all soft and eager on your knees for him.
Who wouldn't?
It's so much better knowing you're bracketed between his thick, firm thighs, willingly. That you'd wrap your plush lips around his flushed tip leaking pre, willingly. That you wouldn't hesitate to swirl and suckle at his girth for hours on end, willingly.
That you're right where you wanna be, willingly.
He's smug, annoyingly so, whenever you let him know just how much you need him, just how intent you are on pleasing him.
And yes, he lets it get to his head. Yes, he gets a bit mean too but, love, you know what you're doing when you're being so sweet to a man like him, right? Right?
Right.
So don't blame him when his rough fingertips graze against your scalp, a mockery of affection, before he's grabbing a fistful, yanking your head back sharply.
A thin, delicate strand of spit still connecting your swollen lips to his angry tip before he's shoving his index finger into your mouth harshly, making you whimper oh-so-beautifully around him.
Your mouth is hot and wet, a maddening sensation that makes an inferno blaze low in Price's groin. It's enough to make him throb, your mouth alone. Your sloppy tongue, the drool trickling down your chin, the almost dazed look in your eyes as you let him handle you like a doll.
Oh, God help him.
As if that wasn't enough, the unyielding grip he has on your hair almost stutters when he feels you grind down on his boot, hips twitching restlessly as you try to soothe the ferocious ache between your own thighs. Your slick painting a filthy, obscene stripe along the freshly polished suede leather of his shoe as you peer up at him through your lashes - a small whine slips past you.
Suddenly, he's quick to drag you forward by your hair until the tip of your nose damn near makes contact with his almost substantial length. He's already leaning down just enough to growl in your ear - the kind of tone which would make any of the soldiers under his command watch their lives flash before their very eyes.
But to you?
It's the hottest fucking thing ever.
He knows it too, he can tell by the subtle way you bite down on your lower lip or the way nod brainlessly. ("Good girl.")
"Fuck. Look at yerself, grindin' against my boot like that, dove. Yer that desparate? That foolish? Thinkin' a piece of leather is gonna satisfy you like I can?"
He's got you too needy to think properly. He's got your cunt too wet. He's got your brain too fogged.
And that 'too much' is perfect to him.
Maybe it's not enough.
creds: hopelesslygaysstuff <3 thank u so much for the cute banners! :,3
18+ snowed in with virgin loser nerd!choso . ⁺ ‧ ₊ ˚
the snow is falling so thick outside that the whole world looks soft and quiet and endless white. classes canceled, midterms pushed back, roads closed, nothing to do but for you and your roommate to stay curled up in your bed with the heater humming and blankets everywhere. choso is shirtless on the bed because he got too warm from all the cuddling, black hair messy and falling into his eyes.
you’re straddling his lap in your tiny sleep cami and soft shorts, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips. the thin strap keeps slipping off one shoulder and he keeps fixing it with gentle fingers like he can’t help touching you.
your mouths have been glued together for what feels like forever. slow, sweet kisses that turn messy and breathy, then slow again. his hands rest on your waist under the top, thumbs stroking your skin in little circles while your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, curling it around your finger or tugging mindlessly.
you rock your hips forward lazily, grinding against the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. nothing rushed, only warm friction to pass the time on a lazy snow day.
“mmph…” he makes the tiniest sound into your mouth when you roll your hips just right.
you smile against his lips and do it again, slower, dragging your clothed heat right over the hard line of him so you can hear that again.
he’s so warm. so solid underneath you. every little shift makes your sleep shorts ride up higher and you can feel how hard he is, how he twitches every time you press down.
his hands tighten on your waist.
“mmh, pretty girl…” he breathes, voice already getting that shaky edge. “you feel so good…”
you kiss him deeper, tongue brushing his, and grind down again. a little firmer this time, pressing yourself against the top-side of his length.
choso’s breath hitches and his hips jerk up without meaning to, chasing the pressure, and then—
his whole body stiffens.
a broken little whimper spills out of him as he cums right in his sweats, just like that. fast. sudden. messy. you can feel the warm wet spot blooming against your shorts almost instantly, making your shorts cling to him, and the way his cock pulses and throbs under the fabric while he trembles beneath you.
he pulls back from the kiss with a gasp, eyes wide, face burning bright red all the way to his ears.
“oh—shit—” he whispers, mortified. “i… i didn’t mean to—fuck, that was so fast— ‘m s-so sorry—”
you can’t help the soft giggle that bubbles up. he looks so embarrassed, so cute, lips still shiny from kissing and eyes all glassy.
“it’s okay, cho,” you murmur, leaning in to press little kisses along his jaw. “really. it’s cute.”
he groans, hiding his face in your neck, but his hands don’t let go of your waist. if anything, they pull you closer.
“so embarrassing…” he mumbles against your skin, voice all whiny and small. “i’m such a—”
the words are punched out of him in a gasp when you rock your hips again, gentle, feeling the sticky warmth between you.
“w-wait—sensitive—ah—”
but he doesn’t push you away.
instead he lets you keep moving, slow little rolls that drag over his spent cock. every grind makes him whimper, high and needy, hips twitching like he can’t decide if it’s too much or not enough.
“nnngh… baby, it’s—hah—it’s too much…” he whines, but his hands slide down to your ass, squeezing softly, encouraging you to keep going.
you kiss him again, swallowing the next whimper as you grind nice and slow.
his cock is still half-hard, twitching helplessly in the soaked fabric of his sweatpants. every drag of your clothed cunt over him makes him jolt and moan into your mouth so prettily, soft broken sounds that go straight between your legs.
“don’t stop—” he pants, voice cracking. “p-please, pretty—ah—don’t stop…”
well, how could you deny him when he asked so nicely?
you smile against his lips and keep rocking, letting the wet spot between you get messier, but you dont care. neither of you have any obligations today anyway. his thighs tremble underneath you, hips bucking. his fingers dig into your hips like he needs something to hold onto.
another helpless whine escapes him when you circle your hips just right.
“ah—fuck—gonna… g’na cum again if you keep doing that—”
you do it again.
he keens, head falling back against the pillows and back arching, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a pretty little ‘o’.
“baby… baby, please, ’m—nnn— ’s so much—”
but his hips keep lifting to meet yours, chasing the friction even as his whole body shakes with it. you lean down and kiss his neck, sucking softly on the spot that always makes him melt.
choso lets out the cutest broken whimper yet, high and desperate, fingers scrambling against your back under the cami.
“so cute like this, cho,” you whisper against his skin. “all whiny and needy… for me?”
he nods frantically, tears of overstimulation pricking at the corners of his eyes. “y-yeah… all yours… just—hah—keep going, please… feels so good—”
you grind down again, slow and sweet, feeling him throb and twitch underneath you. and even when he cums all over his sweats and boxers again, he still shows no intention of getting you off of him.
i miss winter these spring allergies make me wanna die
in my head this also takes place in the same universe as this drabble
Your back arched away from his chest, baring your neck to John who was more than eager to lick and suck at the exposed skin. His thick fingers were buried deep inside you, curling up at that spot that made you see stars. John’s lap beneath you was soaked with a mixture of your slick and cum, and your legs were being spread apart by his own.
“I want you to squirt for me baby, your man’s asking you to. You can do that for me, hm? Let me make you feel good?”
Too blissed out to reply, you make a sweet keening sound, and try grinding on his hard cock under you.
“Don’t be stupid now, I can’t tell what you want if you don’t use your words. Gotta tell daddy you wanna squirt for me, and I’ll give it to you.”
A desperate attempt of a plea leaves your lips as you beg for his cock, your words hardly coherent.
“You wanna cum on my cock? Hmm, but you’re still so tight, don’t wanna hurt this pretty pussy. ‘S why I’ve gotta get you nice and wet for me like this.” John teases, his hands nearly stilling.
“I’m ready! I can take it.” Your depravity clearly ignites something in John, since he lifts you slightly, not enough to pull you off, but just enough to reach into his briefs and pull his shaft out. He lines the tip up against your hole and gives you one last warning.
“I’ll give it to you, but you’ve gotta squirt on your daddy’s cock, baby, let me know how much you love it when I fuck you like this.” He rubs the head of his penis around your clit, teasing the both of you, until he suddenly pushes in.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans into your neck, “Are you always this tight when I fuck you?”
A few more thrusts at that gummy spot inside of you has you calling out his name. “J-John I’m so close, I’m really close!”
“Yeah baby, give it to me, show daddy how much you love his cock.” John kisses your neck as his thrusts reach deeper.
You begin to feel the pressure build up inside of you, in a way that feels all too much and too fast. You let go of this pressure and gush all over John’s cock, drenching the bed. The overload of sensitivity in your pussy has you begging John to just cum already and fill you up.
“Lemme take my time here, been missing this pussy for too long. I wanna see your squirt one more time for me. Can you give me that baby?”
husband!Higuruma coming home exhausted and fucking you slow in the bath (18+)
You swear you were just planning to collapse on the sofa when you got home. Maybe order some takeaway and watch some mindless TV show with your legs stretched across your husband's lap.
So, exactly how did you end up straddling Hiromi Higuruma in the bathtub, hot water sloshing over the edge as you sink down onto him?
“That's it, darling. Just like that.”
Hiromi's voice is low and rough, strained in a way that makes heat slick down your spine and pool between your thighs. His hand grips your hips beneath the water surface, gently guiding you as you adjust to the stretch of him inside you.
You found him in here five minutes ago, tie discarded somewhere in the bedroom, shirt unbuttoned and abandoned on the bathroom floor. He'd been leaning back in the tub with his eyes closed, the water up to his chest, looking more exhausted than you'd seen him in weeks. The case he's working on is brutal, you know that. Long hours, impossible odds, the kind of work that wore him down.
"Join me?" he'd asked, opening one eye to look at you, and there was something so vulnerable in his expression that you couldn't refuse.
And that's how your own clothes joined him on the floor before you slipped into the bath with him.
Now his hair is wet and pushed back from his face, water droplets clinging to his jaw and the tip of his nose, and he's looking at you like you're the only thing that's keeping him from totally dissociating
“I missed you,” you murmur, rolling your hips experimentally. The water makes everything feel different than it would be in the bedroom. More languid and slower, every shift and movement creating a ripple against your skin.
“Missed you too.” His thumb traces circles on your hip bone, a tender gesture that contrasts with the way he's so deeply buried inside of you. “Missed you so much, I thought about you all day. I kept checking my watch, counting down the hours until I could see you again.”
There's something unfairly attractive about him like this. His usually so composed in his suits and professional demeanour, now completely undone. His cheeks are flushed from the heat of the bath, his lips parted as he watches you move above him, and those tired, dark eyes are filled with something that makes your heart flutter.
"You're beautiful," he says, almost reverent, one hand leaving your hip to cup your face. Water drips from his fingers down your cheek. “Do you know that? How beautiful you are?”
You lean into his touch, your own hands braced on his shoulders for leverage. "You might have mentioned it a few times today before work.”
"Not enough, then." He pulls you down into a kiss, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against yours as you continue to move. When he pulls back, he's smiling—that rare, genuine smile that transforms his whole face. "I should tell you more often.”
The water sloshes dangerously as you pick up your pace, and Hiromi makes a low sound of appreciation, his head falling back against the edge of the tub. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, and you gasp at the sensation.
"That's my girl," he murmurs, his voice dropping lower. "Taking me so perfectly. You feel incredible.”
There's something about the praise, the genuine affection in his tone, that makes everything feel more intense. This isn't just sex. It's comfort, connection, coming home to each other after a long day and finding solace in familiar touches.
"Hiromi," you breathe, your rhythm faltering as pleasure builds low in your stomach. “Fuck, I'm-”
"I know." One hand slides between your bodies, finding your clit with practised ease. The water makes his touch slippery, maddening, and you rock against his hand desperately. "I've got you. Come for me, darling.”
His other hand tangles in your wet hair, pulling you down for another kiss as his hips start to move beneath you, meeting your movements with deep, purposeful thrusts that make the water splash over the side of the tub. But you just can't seem to bring yourself to care about the mess.
"So good to me," he murmurs against your lips. "So perfect. What did I do to deserve you?”
The combination of his fingers, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur, and his voice, fuck, that deep, sincere voice telling you how much he wants you, needs you, sends you over the edge. Your orgasm rolls through you in waves that seem to match the water around you, and you bury your face in his neck to muffle your moans.
"Beautiful," Hiromi groans, his rhythm becoming erratic as you clench around him. “You're so beautiful when you come undone for me.”
He follows moments later, his grip on you tightening as he buries himself deep, your name falling from his lips like something precious. For a long moment, you stay like that, wrapped around each other in the cooling water, both breathing hard.
When you finally lift your head to look at him, his expression is soft, content in a way you rarely see. He reaches up to brush wet strands of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle.
"Thank you," he says quietly.
"For the sex?" you tease, though your voice is breathless.
"For coming home to me." He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "For being here.”
You settle against his chest, the water lapping gently around you both. "Always," you murmur. "Though we should probably clean up this mess before it leaks through to our downstairs neighbour.”
He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your ear. “In a minute. Let me hold you first.”
Gaz x female!reader, breast kink, lactation kink, nipple play, nursing, milking
Gaz loves your tits. He's always groping them, pinching your nipples, using them like stress toys. When you're fucking he's got a hand on them, or his mouth, sucking your nipples until they're sore. You think it's just a honeymoon period, he'll back off as he gets used to having you around, but instead he gets worse.
Sitting down with a movie and he's got your shirt shoved up and playing with your nipples, ignoring your half-hearted whining, and then spends another hour in bed with his fingers and cock in your pussy as he sucks on them until you come, shoving at his head to try and get him to release you.
Waking you up to his hands oh so gently rubbing and squeezing your breasts, his cock already hard inside you, tracing the tips of his fingers across your nipples so softly you can barely feel it, driving you insane until you beg him to just fuck you already- and then groping your tits so hard the flesh bulges around his fingers, twisting your nipples until you shriek, his cock driving into you like a machine as you fall apart.
You put on a little lingerie as a surprise and find that the lacy cups scratch your tender nipples too much, you're too sensitive, but Gaz pins your wrists above your head and sucks them through the lace as you sob, tears leaking from your eyes as your pussy drools around his fingers, the lace panties rubbing tight where he's shoved them aside, and when you come he shoves the cups down and fucks his cock between your breasts, striping the red, sore skin with his come.
The first time he sucks on them and you feel a strange, pinching sensation you brush it off- of course you feel weird, Gaz has worked your nipples over so much they're perpetually hard and swollen, thick nubs standing out all the time, your breasts heavy and hot from the way he squeezes and slaps and pinches.
The second time it's harder to ignore, and you squirm where Gaz has you on his lap, suckling as you ride his cock. He hums when you mention it, and sucks harder, bucking his hips up sharply so you forget about it in the rush of coming.
The third time it's coming up in you from deep in your breasts, but you're distracted, Gaz fucking you so slow and deep, playing with your clit as you come over and over. He's sucking on your nipples again, his other hand pinching and tugging, and you cry out as everything reaches a fever pitch, cunt drooling and clit hard, your poor nipples so sensitive under his strong fingers and hot tongue, your breasts ache like they're coming too- and oh, they are, as your cunt squeezes and throbs you feel a little liquid drip from your nipples, wetting Gaz's fingers and drawn into his mouth.
He stops as you shudder under him, staring at your tits, and tugs one nipple like he's- oh fuck, like he's milking you, and you moan as a creamy pale droplet forms and he licks it away.
He's relentless even more now, and you can't won't stop him as he suckles your breasts, drawing more milk up day after day until he's swallowing it, wet little gulps to match the slick dripping from your pussy. Your breasts ache all the time, growing bigger and heavier, and the first time he's gone on a mission for more than a few days he returns to you crying as you try to squeeze enough milk from your breasts to relieve the pain. Your tits are overfull, skin stretched, and Gaz barely gets his mouth on your nipple before you're moaning in relief, milk filling his mouth.
He tears your pants off and gets his cock in you before he switches to the other, playing with the now softened breast. You're so wet he can just slide in, and fucks you in sharp thrusts as he sucks the other nipple to the same rhythm, draining your poor aching tit until you're coming around him, whole body lax and loose, blissed out on pleasure and physical relief.
He kisses you with a mouth sweet and damp with your milk, and you suck it off his tongue eagerly, already looking forward to the next day when you're filled back up and ready for him again.
germansingergirl
theartofmadeline
izzy806
romaincrisis
