could you do either deacy or roger edging reader in public then like. overstimulating reader l o t s when they get home?? o wow.
I’m gonna do Deacy bc I’m deep in my John feels today. Dedicated to @rogerscupboard who is struggling just as much as me bc of this man 😂
A/N: Y’all, I have no self-control. I’m not even sorry. This “blurb” took on a life of its own, and this monster is the result. RIP to all Deacy stans
Word Count: 1350+
Warnings: Smut hehe
“John…” Your voice was a breathy moan, and his name was all you could manage to say. Your legs were trembling, and starting to close around John’s hand even as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. John was concentrated on his work, though, and didn’t even look up at you.
“Hmm?” His hum was low and almost resembled a growl. It sent a shiver through you, and you gripped his shoulder tightly. You were wrinkling the fabric of his blazer, but he didn’t care. His eyeliner was smudged, but so was yours as your faced scrunched up in pleasure.
“I’m–I’m close,” you whimpered, digging a heel into the small of his back. John smiled to himself, biting his lip. His grip on your hip tightened, nails scraping the skin there.
“Yeah, love? You’re close?” His voice was a smug whisper in your ear. You nodded, moaning into the empty dressing room.
Suddenly, John pulled his fingers from you. You looked at him with eyes wide, but he was already wiping his hand on a tissue.
“Good.”
“What? Where the hell are you going?” You asked, annoyance creeping into your voice. But John just wagged his eyebrows at you, and left you there, shorts around your ankles and sweat on your face.
…
“Care to explain yourself?” You folded your arms and glared at John. He was setting down his bass in the hallway, and looked up at you with a mischievous grin.
You’d just gotten home, and it was well after one in the morning. But you weren’t going to call it a night until John finished what he started. And he knew that.
“I just wanted to see how much you’d let me get away with,” was his cheeky response. You walked to him, standing in the doorway to your bedroom. You kept your chin high, and your arms folded, and made sure to leave no extra space between the two of you. Sure he could feel the heat coming off your body.
“You’re really going to torture me like that?” You said it more like a statement than a question. John giggled to himself–an action that might have been cute if you weren’t so wired.
“John Deacon.”
That was all he needed to break. He broke out in a full laugh, and grabbed your hand.
“Alright, come on, then.”
He pushed you onto the bed, much to your excitement. You didn’t ask him what he was doing; you only peeled off your shirt and waited for him to climb onto you. Which he did, without losing a single second.
John hovered over you, biting his lip one more time before ducking down to take you by the lips. You reacted enthusiastically enough to make him moan in surprise, hooking your legs around his waist and grabbing his shirt almost aggressively. After kissing the breath out of you for a few minutes, John pulled back.
“John, please,” you whined, tugging on his collar. John just smirked at you, and scooted back to put himself between your legs. But you pulled on him in response.
“I don’t need your mouth, John, I’m wet enough as it fucking is.”
John’s eyes widened for a second, but he continued that annoyingly sexy smirk, and crawled back up to you.
“Oh, you really didn’t like my teasing, did you?” You could have slapped the smug look off his perfect face, but opted to use your words instead.
“Can you shut up, and just fuck me already?”
John tilted his head to the side in mock thought. You dug your nails into his jeans, hoping to spur him on.
It worked.
John reached down and yanked the front of your shorts, popping the button and lowering the zipper. Once they were off, along with your panties, he reached down and undid his own jeans. You shoved them down, allowing his member to spring free. You took it in your palm right away, and pressed it down into your center. John shifted forward just slightly, rubbing himself on your folds.
Once he had sufficiently spread your own wetness all over himself and you, John braced himself on either side of you. He looked down as you guided his tip to your entrance.
“Go on, then,” you told him confidently. “Fuck me.”
John pushed into you with such delicious force, you couldn’t help but let out a loud cry. And then he was fucking you, at an agonizing pace. You looked down at him, pumping in and out of you, his shaft already slick from your wetness. And it wasn’t enough.
“Faster, please,” you gasped, clawing at his back. “Fuck.”
John obliged, and bucked into you a bit faster, holding your gaze as you started to unravel. He continued like this for a few minutes, lifting a hand to massage your breast for a moment. But it still wasn’t enough for you, even as your moans raised in pitch.
“John, fuck,” you panted. “Fuck me harder.”
“So greedy tonight,” John smirked, reaching down to press his thumb into your clit. He applied the pressure just as he sped up the timing of his thrusts, making you open your mouth in a silent scream.
For several minutes, John was fucking you hard and fast, knocking the headboard against the wall in a loud series of thumps. You could feel that wonderful pressure building at your core, making your skin flush. John could see that you were close, and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.
“How does that feel, love?”
“So good,” you cried, “so fucking good, John. Don’t stop.”
You rolled your hips to the tempo of his thrusts, pushing him deeper into you every time. John pulled his hand from your clit to clasp your fingers, giving them a light squeeze.
“Do you want to come now, love?”
You looked up at John with a slight glare.
“You’d better not be teasing me again, Deacon.”
John chuckled, but maintained his speed. To push you over the edge, he reached down and pressed his index and middle fingers down on either side of your clit. Then, he closed the fingers, putting increased pressure on the sensitive bud there. That, coupled with a final few thrusts, had you screaming underneath him.
“Fuck!” he hissed, as he felt your walls clench around him. He leaned down and bit into your neck as he continued to roll his hips into you. You could feel your own warm release dripping down your inner thigh. But he wasn’t done.
“We’re not done yet, love,” he growled, and you could only smile, gripping his arms.
John knew he was close, but he wouldn’t let himself come until you were falling apart under him again. You hadn’t even come down from your first orgasm when John reached down again. But this time, instead of rubbing your clit, he pressed his palm flat to your lower stomach.
“Fuck.” The swear fell from your lips this time, as the increased pressure nearly blinded you. The heat bubbled up between your legs again as John pounded into you with renewed fervor. With his hand pushing down below your navel, his cock dragged along your front wall with a new intensity. With every thrust, you could feel him hitting that perfect, sweet spot inside you.
You screamed John’s name so many times it stopped sounding like a word. And your nails dug into his back so hard, you were sure there would be scratch marks tomorrow. He gave several more thrusts before releasing himself inside you. You could feel the wetness spilling from you as John slowed his pace, bringing you back down to earth.
Once you had stopped moaning, John slowly pulled himself from you. When he collapsed next to you, you noticed he was dripping in sweat.
It was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. You rolled over, pressing a kiss to his neck as his arm went around your shoulders.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” you murmured, grinning up at him.
John exhaled, looking surprised at himself.
“Me neither.”