San stirs awake with a shiver crawling down his spine.
A quiet groan leaves his lips as he squints into the too-bright morning light spilling through the window. It’s early — painfully early — but there’s no point fighting it when his body is wide awake, pulsing with that raw, aching hunger that won’t be ignored.
He rolls over, reaching for your side of the bed — only to find cool sheets and emptiness.
San frowns, jaw tightening. Now? When all he wants is his girl warm and soft under him?
He pushes himself up, running a hand through his messy hair as he listens. A faint clatter and a soft hum drift in from down the hall. He sighs, shaking his head with a dry laugh. You’re up and about already — of course you are.
San gets up, his cock already heavy and throbbing as he pads barefoot to the kitchen. One glance around the doorway and the sight in front of him just makes things worse.
You’re there — swaying gently at the counter in that tiny pink apron he got you last Christmas. He remembers buying it, thinking how perfectly sweet you’d look in it — but he didn’t expect you to wear it with nothing else underneath.
The apron barely reaches the tops of your thighs. The thin strap is tied in a bow above your ass, leaving your back bare, your hips rolling with every soft step you take. You’re humming a tune to yourself, so caught up in whisking batter and slicing fruit that you don’t even hear him come closer.
San drags his tongue across his bottom lip, hand flexing at his side. He can see the curve of your ass peek out when you shift — the way your thighs brush together when you rock up on your toes. So sweet. So clueless. So easy for him to ruin.
He crosses the kitchen in a few long strides and presses himself flush to your back.
Your surprised gasp is soft — a quick squeak that melts into a breathless giggle when you feel his hands settle on your hips.
"Morning, baby," San murmurs, lips brushing over your shoulder as he inhales you — warm skin, sugar, vanilla, everything soft and perfect.
"San— you scared me," you laugh, your voice all airy and sweet as you lean your head to the side for him.
"Couldn’t help it," he mutters, nose skimming along your neck, his hands gliding down to cup your ass. "Look at you. Walking around like this, acting innocent."
He grinds against you, letting you feel every inch of how hard he is. You squirm, biting your lip when his hips push forward, his cock pressing right where you’re warmest.
"I was just… making breakfast," you manage to say, breath stuttering when his fingers knead the soft flesh of your thighs.
"Oh, trust me I am very much hungry," San growls, voice rough and low against your ear. "Not for pancakes though."
Before you can answer, he drags the apron up, baring your ass completely. One broad palm smooths over your skin, fingers squeezing, spreading you open just enough to see that you’re already glistening for him.
"Fuck, look at you," he mutters, voice almost a groan. "So wet for me already."
You open your mouth to protest, but the sharp smack of his hand landing on your ass cuts you off.
"Ah! San!" you yelp, your hips jolting forward against the counter.
He chuckles, dark and soft, before landing another slap, harder this time — the sting blooming under his touch.
"Stay still," San orders. He sinks to his knees behind you, big hands pushing your thighs apart. He barely gives you time to whimper before he buries his face right between your legs.
Your body jerks when his tongue drags through your folds, hot and slick. He hums low in his throat, savoring the taste of you. You brace yourself on the counter, trying to steady your breathing as he works you over with lazy, greedy licks.
"S-San, oh—" Your knees wobble as his tongue circles your clit, then dips lower again to fuck into you. The wet sounds echo around the quiet kitchen — your broken gasps mixing with the faint clatter of the spoon you dropped somewhere beside you.
"Shit, you taste so sweet," San growls, voice muffled as he presses his mouth harder against you. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you still while he devours every drop of you, licking and sucking until your thighs are shaking.
"Please— please, San, I’m gonna—" you gasp, your nails digging into the countertop.
He pulls back just enough to speak, his breath hot against your soaked skin.
"Not yet." His tone leaves no room for argument. He plants one last kiss on your pussy before standing again, towering over you as he flips you around to face him.
You let out a soft gasp as he lifts you onto the counter with zero effort. He steps closer, spreading your legs wide apart so you’re open just for him.
"Hold yourself for me," he commands, eyes dark and hungry. You whimper but do as you’re told — fingers trembling as you spread yourself for him.
San drags his palm over the head of his cock, lining himself up. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Look at you. So pretty like this. All mine."
He pushes in with one smooth stroke that knocks the air out of your lungs. You cry out, head tipping back as he fills you to the hilt.
"Fuck," San breathes out, holding himself there for just a heartbeat — savoring the way your pussy clenches around him. "So tight for me. Every damn time."
Your words melt into broken moans when he pulls back and slams back in, setting a rough pace that makes the counter shudder under you. The slap of skin on skin mixes with your breathless cries, echoing through the warm kitchen.
"San— Sannie— oh, please—"
"Yeah? You like that?" he pants, one hand gripping your thigh tight enough to leave marks while the other cups the back of your neck. "So fucking good for me. Take it."
Your orgasm builds fast, that hot, breathless pressure coiling tighter with every brutal thrust. You try to speak, but it’s just a string of needy whimpers.
"Say it," San demands, hips snapping into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over. "Tell me."
You break apart with a sharp cry, your walls clamping around him as your orgasm hits hard and sudden. Your vision blurs, your body trembling as he fucks you through every wave.
San’s own groan rumbles low in his chest as he chases his high — thrusts going deeper, slower, until he spills inside you, filling you up to the brim with a final, harsh grind of his hips.
You slump back, chest heaving, eyes fluttering shut as he leans in and kisses your sweaty forehead.
"Breakfast can wait," he murmurs against your skin, his lips curved in a lazy grin.
Warnings: explizite sexual content (18+),rough sexpraise/degradation mix,manhandling,fingering, oral (f!receiving), creampie,dirty talk,mild choking,semi-public (kitchen),alcohol mention (Rick obviously),consent (enthusiastic but messy, very in-character roughness)
Summary:
Rick catches you folding socks and decides it’s the perfect moment to press you against the fridge and undo every trace of order you were trying to create. Pure Rick-style chaos: messy, intense, overwhelming and this time you’re not watching from the sidelines; you’re in the middle of it.
Note from Author: Please give me more Fanfiction ideas, I'll take anything that's thrown at me. 🙏
"You ever think about how weird it is that your planet exploded, but you still fold your socks?"
Rick was leaning against the kitchen counter, swirling a mostly empty flask of something neon-green. His voice had that lazy, half-drunk drawl, the one that meant he'd been thinking too hard about something stupid
You paused mid-fold, one sock dangling from your fingers like a surrender flag.
"Yeah, well, maybe sock-folding is the last act of rebellion against universal chaos. Or maybe I just like not having to dig through a pile for a matching pair."
You shrugged, tossing the sock onto the neatly stacked pile. Rick snorted, but his eyes tracked the movement of your hands with an intensity that had nothing to do with laundry
Rick took a slow swig from his flask, his gaze lingering on the curve of your neck as you bent to grab another sock.
"Rebellion, huh?"
His voice dropped lower, rough around the edges like gravel under tires.
"You’d make a shitty revolutionary. Too fucking cute when you’re concentrating."
His fingers traced lazy circles over your hipbone, slipping under the hem of your shirt with practiced ease.
Before you could retort, his arms slid around your waist from behind, his chest pressing against your back with a warmth that seeped through your clothes. You felt his breath against your ear, the faint smell of alcohol and something sharper, something distinctly Rick
"Fuck, you're tiny,"
he muttered, the words vibrating against your skin as his other hand slid upward, palm flattening against your sternum like he was measuring the space between your ribs. You could feel the callouses on his fingers catch against the fabric of your bra, his breath hitching when your back arched instinctively into his touch.
The sudden lift came without warning one moment your feet were on the linoleum, the next you were dangling mid-air, legs scrambling for purchase as Rick hauled you up against him like you weighed nothing.
His forearm braced under your thighs, hiking you higher until your head lolled back against his shoulder.
"Rick—" you started, but the protest dissolved into a gasp as his free hand cupped you through your jeans, the pressure just shy of rough.
"You always make that noise,"
he murmured against your temple, his voice thick with something darker than amusement. His fingers worked the button of your jeans open with a single practiced flick, the zipper parting with a slow, deliberate drag that made your stomach tighten. His palm slid beneath the waistband of your panties, fingers curling possessively against the heat of you.
"Like you're surprised every goddamn time."
Rick's fingers dipped lower, spreading you open with a groan that rumbled through his chest and into your back.
"Fuck, you're already wet,"
he muttered, dragging his thumb in slow, maddening circles that made your hips jerk against his hand. You could feel the rough denim of his jeans pressing into the backs of your thighs, the way he had to crouch slightly to keep you steady tall enough that even like this, your feet barely brushed the floor when he let you sink down just an inch. His breath hitched when you clenched around his fingers, a ragged
"shit" escaping him as he curled them deeper, the heel of his palm grinding against you in a way that had your nails digging into his forearm.
The kitchen tiles blurred as Rick pivoted, pinning you between his body and the fridge with a thud that rattled the magnets. His teeth scraped your earlobe, the hand not buried in your panties splaying across your stomach to hitch you higher.
"Tell me," he growled, fingers crooking inside you with a precision that sent sparks up your spine,
"you ever think about this when you're folding those fucking socks?"
You gasped—half-laugh, half-moan—as his thumb found your clit, the pad rubbing in tight, filthy circles that had your thighs trembling against his forearm.
Rick's chuckle was dark, breath hot against your neck as his fingers sped up, the wet sounds obscenely loud in the quiet kitchen.
"Yeah, that's it," he growled, pressing you harder into the fridge, the cold metal seeping through your clothes as his hips pinned you in place.
You could feel him hard and insistent against your ass every shift of his body dragging another broken noise from your throat. His thumb circled faster, rough and relentless, while his fingers curled just right inside you, the stretch making your toes curl.
"Fuck, look at you,"
he muttered, nudging your head to the side with his chin so he could watch your face.
"Always so fucking pretty when you're about to come."
The sensation of his fingers moving inside you too much and not enough sent sparks dancing behind your eyelids, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts against the fridge door.
Rick’s thumb pressed harder against your clit, the rough pad of his finger circling just shy of painful, and you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand as if you could chase the feeling deeper.
He growled low in his throat, his teeth sinking into the junction of your shoulder as he fucked you faster with his fingers, the rhythm uneven and desperate like he couldn’t decide whether to draw it out or ruin you.
"That’s it, baby," he rasped, his voice fraying at the edges, "let me fucking feel it."
Your fingers scrabbled against the fridge door as pleasure coiled tight in your gut, Rick's name stuttering from your lips in broken syllables.
He laughed a rough, breathless sound and twisted his fingers just so, the heel of his palm grinding against your clit with each thrust until your vision whited out.
You came with a sob, your back arching as his forearm flexed to keep you upright, his free hand splayed across your stomach to feel the way your muscles fluttered under his touch. Rick kept moving through it, fingers relentless as he murmured filthy praise against your damp skin, his own breathing ragged against your ear.
The aftershocks left you boneless against him, your thighs slick where they pressed against his forearm, your breath still coming in uneven gasps.
Rick didn’t pull his fingers away just slowed his movements to a lazy, teasing drag, watching the way your body twitched with oversensitivity.
“Fuck,” he muttered hoarsely, his lips brushing your temple as he withdrew his hand, your wetness glistening on his fingers. He brought them to his mouth with a smirk, sucking them clean with a groan that vibrated against your spine.
“Tastes like victory.”
His other hand finally loosened its grip on your hip, sliding up to palm your breast through your shirt, thumb brushing your nipple in a way that made you squirm.
The fridge door creaked as he shifted his weight, his erection pressing harder against your ass hot and insistent even through layers of denim.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” he warned, voice gravel-rough as he nipped at your earlobe. “You think I’m done with you just ‘cause you came?”
You barely had time to gasp before he was spinning you around, your back hitting the fridge with a thud as he dropped to his knees in one fluid motion.
His hands hooked under your thighs, yanking your hips forward until your jeans were taut against your skin. The zipper groaned as he ripped it the rest of the way down, his breath scorching against your inner thigh.
“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging his tongue along the seam of your panties, the fabric already soaked through.
“Should’ve known you’d be greedy.”
The last word dissolved into a groan as he buried his face between your legs, his nose bumping your clit through the damp cotton.
Rick's tongue lashed against you through the fabric, the heat of his mouth making you jerk against his grip.
With a low chuckle, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and yanked them down your thighs in one rough motion the elastic snapping against your skin as they tangled around your knees.
The cold air hit your wetness just before his mouth did, his tongue flattening against you in a slow, filthy drag that had your knees buckling. His hands tightened on your thighs, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he pulled you closer, his breath hot and uneven against your sensitive skin.
Rick didn't bother teasing just licked into you like he was starving, his tongue pressing flat against your clit before curling upward in a torturously slow motion that made your hips jerk against his face.
The fridge rattled behind you as he pinned you harder against it, his nose bumping your clit with every ragged exhale, the vibrations sending shockwaves down your thighs.
You could hear him the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth working between your legs, the groan that rumbled through his chest when you tangled your fingers in his hair and tugged. "Fuck, Rick—" you gasped, your voice cracking as his teeth grazed your inner thigh, sharp enough to make you flinch but not enough to stop the molten heat pooling in your gut.
His grip on your thighs tightened as he dragged his tongue in slow, deliberate circles around your clit just enough pressure to tease but not enough to push you over.
You whined, hips twitching forward, but Rick pulled back with a dark chuckle, his breath fanning over your wetness.
"Patience, kid,"
he rasped, his lips brushing your inner thigh before he flicked his tongue against you again, feather-light.
The contrast between the rough scrape of his stubble and the softness of his mouth had your fingers tightening in his hair, your thighs trembling under his hands.
Without warning, he plunged two fingers back inside you, curling them just enough to make you cry out, his tongue following in quick, flat strokes.
The stretch burned in the best way, his knuckles pressing against your sensitive walls as his thumb found your clit again, circling in time with the thrusts of his fingers.
You could feel his smirk against your skin when your hips bucked uncontrollably, his name spilling from your lips in a broken moan.
"That's it," he growled, his voice muffled against you, "take what I give you."
Rick’s fingers crooked inside you just as his tongue pressed flat against your clit hard, relentless the dual sensation tearing a strangled moan from your throat.
Your legs shook violently, toes curling against the linoleum as he worked you over with ruthless precision, his grip on your thighs tightening when you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure.
"Uh-uh," he muttered against your skin, breath hot and ragged, "you don’t get to fucking run."
His thumb circled faster, the rough pad dragging against your clit in tight, punishing spirals that had your vision spotting at the edges.
The fridge door groaned under your weight as your back arched, hands scrabbling for purchase against the smooth surface.
Rick’s tongue lashed against you in quick, staccato flicks, his fingers fucking into you with a rhythm that bordered on vicious each thrust punctuated by the wet, obscene sound of your arousal.
You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your muscles clamping down around his fingers as he growled approval against your skin, his teeth nipping at your inner thigh just to hear you whimper.
"Gonna come again," he rasped, not a question but a command, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "Do it."
The words barely registered before your orgasm ripped through you violently, messily your thighs clamping around Rick’s head as you cried out, the sound raw and unfiltered.
He didn’t let up, fingers still pistoning inside you, tongue relentless against your oversensitive clit until you were sobbing, your nails scraping against the fridge door.
Rick groaned into you, the vibration sending another shockwave of pleasure through your trembling body, his grip bruising as he held you open for his mouth, fucking you through the aftershocks with a possessiveness that left you boneless.
The moment your legs gave out, Rick caught you not gently, but with a rough jerk upward that slammed your back against his chest, his arms locking around your waist before your knees hit the floor.
His lips were wet and swollen against your neck as he panted into your skin, his cock straining against the fly of his jeans where it pressed into the small of your back.
"Fuckin' wrecked you," he muttered, voice hoarse with satisfaction, his fingers dragging possessively over your hipbones.
You could feel his smirk against your shoulder when you shuddered, your body still twitching with aftershocks as he palmed your bare ass through the ruined fabric of your jeans.
Rick spun you around abruptly, your chest crashing against his as he manhandled you onto the kitchen counter in one fluid motion, the edge digging into your thighs.
His belt buckle clattered against the tile as he shoved his pants down just enough to free himself, his cock jutting thick and flushed between you.
"Look at you," he growled, gripping your chin to force your gaze downward, his thumb smearing your lower lip.
"All fucked-out and still dripping for me." His hips jerked forward without warning, the thick head of his cock dragging through your slick folds in a slow, filthy stroke that had you gasping.
The counter's edge bit into your thighs as Rick hooked your legs around his waist, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.
"Bet you could take me like this," he muttered, his cockhead catching at your entrance with a teasing pressure that made you whine high and desperate. Rick's laugh was dark, breath ragged as he rocked forward just enough to stretch you, the burn of it sharp and perfect.
"Fuck, just look at you,"
he rasped, his thumbs digging into your hipbones as he watched your face twist.
"Always so fucking tight."
Rick sank into you with a groan that ripped from his chest deep, too deep his hips slamming against yours in one brutal thrust that sent your back arching off the counter.
The stretch burned, your nails digging into his forearms as he bottomed out, his cock pulsing inside you with the effort of holding still.
"Fuck, fuck—" you gasped, the words splintering as his fingers tightened on your hips, lifting you slightly just to drop you back onto him with a wet slap that echoed through the kitchen.
His breath came in ragged bursts against your neck, his stubble scraping your skin raw as he muttered filthy, disjointed praise "so tight, so fucking greedy, taking me like this"
His hips snapped forward again, harder this time, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs as the countertop dug into your ass with each punishing thrust.
Rick's fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat his teeth sinking into the tender skin below your jaw as he fucked into you with a rhythm that left no room for gentleness.
You could hear the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies colliding, the way his breath hitched every time your walls clenched around him.
"Fuck—just like that," he growled against your pulse, his lips smearing spit and sweat across your skin as his pace turned erratic.
Rick's rhythm stuttered as your legs tightened around his waist, your heels digging into the small of his back forcing him deeper with each ragged thrust.
The fridge door behind him rattled with every snap of his hips, the glass bottles inside clinking like a toast to your wrecked composure.
His hand slid from your hip to your throat, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch without cutting it off, his thumb brushing your pulse point where it hammered against his palm.
"That's it," he rasped, his voice wrecked, "choke on it, baby—take every fucking inch."
Your vision blurred as Rick’s thrusts became impossibly deeper, his cock grinding against that sweet spot inside you with bruising precision.
The counter’s edge dug into your thighs, the pain mingling with pleasure until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
His free hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit in rough, circular strokes that matched the brutal pace of his hips.
"Come on," he snarled against your ear, his breath hot and uneven, "let me feel you fucking come apart."
The orgasm hit you like a sucker punch your back arching off the counter as your nails raked down Rick’s arms, your throat raw from the scream he swallowed with a messy, biting kiss. He didn’t slow down, fucking you through it with ragged grunts, his fingers tightening around your throat just enough to make your pulse stutter.
"Fuck, that’s it," he groaned, his hips stuttering as your walls fluttered around him, "gonna fill you up—gonna ruin you—"
His rhythm fractured, his thrusts turning uneven and desperate as his cock twitched inside you, heat spilling deep with a low, guttural groan that vibrated against your collarbone.
Rick’s forehead dropped to your shoulder, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts as his hips jerked through the last of his release, his fingers flexing against your skin like he couldn’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.
Rick’s grip on your hips loosened as he slumped forward, his forehead still pressed against your sweat-slicked shoulder, his breathing ragged against your skin.
The kitchen smelled like sex and spilled liquor, the sharp tang of his flask still lingering in the air where it had tipped over during the frenzy. You could feel him still half-hard inside you, his cock twitching with oversensitivity as your thighs trembled around his waist.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your hipbone like he was mapping the aftermath. "Goddamn," he muttered, voice hoarse, "you’re gonna be the death of me."
His chuckle was low and rough as he finally pulled out, the sudden emptiness making you whimper your body still thrumming with the aftershocks.
Rick’s thumb dragged through the mess between your thighs, his smirk lazy as he brought it to his mouth, sucking it clean with a groan that made your stomach flip.
"Fuckin’ perfect," he murmured, his other hand gripping your chin to tilt your face up, his kiss tasting like copper and cheap booze. You could feel his smirk against your lips when your knees buckled as you tried to stand, his arm snapping around your waist to haul you against his chest.
Rick’s fingers tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose your throat as he licked a slow, possessive stripe from your collarbone to your jaw.
His breath was hot and uneven against your skin, his cock twitching where it still pressed against your thigh half-hard again already, like the man had a fucking rechargeable battery wired to his libido.
"Don’t go getting shy now," he muttered, teeth scraping your pulse point as his free hand slid down to palm your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp.
Plot: Dick comes home while you prepare dinner, but that turns into a different kind of pie
Words: 1,7k
Dick comes home from the grocery store, arms full of bags, sweat clinging to the back of his neck from the summer heat outside. But the second he steps into the kitchen and sees you—sees that dress—his brain short circuits.
It's too little, barely covering your ass, the thin fabric teasing him with every movement as you stand at the counter, slicing through vegetables like you aren't a fucking menace, like you aren't standing there looking like that, completely oblivious to what you're doing to him.
His cock stirs instantly, blood rushing south before he can even think, before he can even drop the damn bags. And when he finally does, when they hit the counter with a dull thud, his body is already moving before his brain catches up.
He steps behind you, arms slipping around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he exhales, already a little gone for you, already needy just from the scent of your perfume, the heat of your skin against his.
You chuckle softly, still focused on slicing, like you don't feel the way he's pressing against you. Like you don't feel how fucking hard he is already.
"Did you find everything, baby?"
His lips ghost along your neck as he hums, voice lower, slower than usual. "Yeah."
But he doesn't move away. Doesn't even try to. If anything, he presses closer, letting you feel the way he's already hard for you, the heavy weight of his cock thick and insistent through his sweats, grinding against the swell of your ass like he can't help himself. And honestly? He can't.
The second he saw you, it was over for him.
He lets out a soft, needy little sigh against your skin, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout you don't even have to see to know it's there.
You keep chopping, acting completely unbothered, but you're not fooling him. Not when your breathing hitches just slightly, not when your grip on the knife shifts like you're struggling just a little to focus. And when he presses forward, lets his cock slot right against the curve of your ass, you suck in a sharp breath, body going the slightest bit tense. Oh, you feel it. You feel him.
"I want you."
You smile, shaking your head with a chuckle. "After dinner, baby."
But oh, he doesn't want to wait—he can't.
His hand slips from your waist, down, slipping past the hem of your dress, right into your little panties. His breath hitches when he feels it, when he feels just how fucking wet you already are for him, his fingers dragging through your slick folds, teasing, pressing, rubbing slow circles that make your knees tremble before you catch yourself.
A low, pleased groan rumbles in his chest as he teases your clit, lazy and deliberate, making you gasp. "You sure you wanna wait, sweetheart?"
Your breath hitches. "Dick—"
"I have a better idea."
Before you can question him, your dress is bunched up around your waist, your panties pushed to the side, and then his cock is slipping between your legs, sliding through your soaked folds, the heavy weight of it rubbing against your clit with every slow, teasing thrust.
And God, he's already so fucking gone for you, already leaking precum all over your pussy, rutting between your folds like a man starved, like he doesn't need air, doesn't need food, doesn't need anything but you.
"Baby, d-dinner," you murmur, a weak protest as pleasure sparks up your spine.
"Oh, my love, you can keep going," he says, all honeyed teasing, like this isn't killing him, like he isn't one second away from bending you over the counter and giving you exactly what you both know you need.
Then he angles himself up, grips your hips, and slides the thick head of his cock inside you, pushing past your entrance and sinking in deep until he bottoms out, stuffing you full. You're so tight around him that he has to squeeze his eyes shut and take a second, has to breathe through the urge to just fucking ruin you right then and there.
Because God, you feel good. And he's already so fucking gone.
Your mouth parts in a silent gasp, hands gripping the counter for support as your walls flutter around him, struggling to adjust to how thick he is, how deep he is.
"What are you—?"
His hands find yours, guiding them back to the knife, helping you steady it as his cock throbs inside you, a slow, pulsing ache. "You're not done chopping, baby."
It's filthy. It's unbearable. You try to focus, try to keep your hands steady as you slice through the bell pepper, but his dick is stretching you open, filling you to the brim, the girth of him pressing against every sensitive spot inside you, and worst of all—he's not moving.
He just stays there, buried to the hilt, thick and throbbing, leaking hot spurts of precum against your needy walls. You can't help it—you clench down around him, your body reacting on its own, desperate for friction, desperate for him to just move, to fuck you open like you need.
A low, ragged groan rumbles in his chest, his hands tightening around yours as he fights the urge to snap his hips forward. "Fuck, baby, don't do that, or this is gonna be over real quick."
But you can't fucking help it. You keep squeezing around him involuntarily, your walls fluttering, and every tiny movement, every little shift of your hips, makes his restraint crumble.
By the time you're done chopping the last bell pepper, your hands are shaking, thighs slick, your breathing uneven, coming out in short, quiet gasps. You're soaked, dripping around his cock, every little flex of him inside you making you throb, making you ache.
Dick's voice is rough when he asks, "Done here?"
You nod, cheeks flushed, legs weak, barely able to stand.
He hums, lips brushing your ear. "Good."
And then he bends you over the counter and fucks you. His restraint snaps, his hips slamming into you with a force that makes you yelp, your arms barely catching yourself against the counter as he pounds your dripping cunt. He sets a brutal pace, driving into you so deep that each thrust sends shockwaves up your spine, makes you gasp, makes you shatter apart inside.
The sound of skin against skin fills the kitchen, filthy and wet, the lewd squelch of your slick coating his cock, making everything messy, obscene.
"Fuck, baby... look at you," he groans, his voice wrecked, watching how your pussy swallows him with every deep thrust, watching the way your walls cling to him, stretch around him. "Taking me so well."
You can barely breathe, barely think, and when he slips a hand between your thighs, rubbing your clit in quick, tight circles, your whole body jolts. You're already shaking, already so overstimulated from the teasing, and when his fingers press just right, rolling over your swollen little bud, the pleasure hits you like a fucking truck.
You break.
Your orgasm slams into you, stealing the breath from your lungs, making your whole body go tight. Your walls clamp down around his cock, pulsing, squeezing, your cunt spasming around him like you're trying to milk him dry.
But he doesn't stop. He fucks you through it, chasing his own release, his grip on your hip bruising as he slams into you over and over, his breath coming out in ragged, desperate moans.
And then he growls, voice rough with need, "One more, baby. One more."
You sob, overstimulated, but with the way he fucks you—the way his dick pounds into that sweet spot, unrelenting, ruthless—you don't stand a fucking chance. Your body isn't yours anymore, just a desperate, trembling thing caught in the drag of his cock, the brutal stretch of it splitting you open again and again.
You're helpless. You give in.
Pleasure bursts through you like a live wire, so sharp, so devastatingly good it knocks the breath from your lungs. Your walls clench down hard around him, gripping him in wet, greedy spasms, sucking him deeper, milking him for everything he's got.
He swears under his breath, voice wrecked, "God, baby, you're fucking squeezing me so tight—"
And he feels it, the way your cunt pulses around him, spasming and clinging to his dick. He groans, head dropping to your shoulder, barely holding himself together as your pussy works him, drags him closer to his own orgasm.
And you can barely respond, too lost in the aftershocks, too ruined by the way he keeps going, chasing his own high, and that's it for him.
His hips slam forward one last time, burying himself deep, so deep it feels like he's trying to claim you from the inside out. And then he breaks, his whole body trembling as he spills into you, thick, hot spurts of cum flooding your cunt in pulse after pulse, filling you up so much you swear you feel it in your belly.
You feel everything.
The way his cock throbs inside you, the way his cum rushes in hot, thick, coating every inch of your insides. The heat of it spreads through you, sticky, overwhelming, leaking out around his cock, trickling down your thighs in messy little drips.
Dick groans, deep and raw as your pussy clenches around him again, milking him for every last drop, wringing him dry. He doesn't pull out—not yet—just stays there, buried to the hilt, keeping you so full, so stuffed with him that you can barely think.
But fuck, there's too much. It leaks out around his cock, slick and messy, dripping down the backs of your thighs. He watches, panting, dazed, as a thick bead of cum escapes your stretched cunt, sliding down to where he's still stuffed inside you.
And then he grits out, "Fuck, baby... gonna keep you like this all night. Keep you so full, so messy, so—"
He cuts himself off with a low, desperate moan, hips giving a slow, lazy grind just to feel how wet, how slippery you are with his release.
He should pull out. He knows he should. But the way your walls flutter around him, still so warm, still so tight—it's too fucking good. And God, if you let him, he'll fuck his cum right back into you.
He slumps against your back, panting, his cock still twitching inside you, both of you wrecked, both of you ruined.
And after a long, heavy silence—his forehead pressed to your shoulder, his breath ragged—he chuckles, voice wrecked. "Think you burned the garlic."
You groan. "Dick."
But you can't even be mad. Because fuck, he was so worth it. He always is.
Coriander & Mint - A New Fic Collab with @daneecastle
It’s time for more South Down fluff! Y’all, y’all. Just look at this gorgeousness from @daneecastle! Go follow her, grab her Patreon, show her how amazing she is!
Coriander & Mint, Rated: E, ~4k, no CW/TW
Summary: Aziraphale attempts to make brunch late one sunny, summer morning. Crowley helps.
Excerpt: The garden had produced beautifully season after season and the summer yield was promising to be no less plentiful. It was perfectly logical, then, that they should learn how to cook.
Or rather, Aziraphale is learning how to cook. Crowley lopes about the kitchen, fetching a pan or slicing some veg while Aziraphale pesters him about proper knife technique and minding his fingertips. Essentially, despite his insistence that he is assisting, Crowley is an absolute, adorable nuisance whenever Aziraphale is cooking.
And Aziraphale would have it no other way.
Read on AO3
A big thanks to my beta’s @the-literal-kj and @hakunahistata as well as @paperclipninja and @wingsofopal for lending their unique knowledge! 😂 And, of course, to @goodomensafterdark for forcing encouraging me to write fluff. 😉
Summary: Tension rises between two female agents and eventually the rubber band snaps when stretched too far.
Warning: Minors DNI, a little angst, but turns into smut
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“And still you disobeyed orders!!” The assistant director snapped pacing back and forth in the conference room where you were all seated you had been tasked in cleaning up the mess of yet another Fox Mulder case, but not before closing the case and landing yourselves in a meeting with Skinner.
“Sir…” Mulder spoke, but you were to focused on the woman next to you. You watched as she pinched the bridge of her nose, and then leaned back in her chair, the way she held her pen. You thought about how close you’d grown over this last case, though sharing a room will do that, you thought about late nights sitting on the same bed sharing stories and just how well your personalities worked together. You admired her features, her simplistic natural looking makeup and her gorgeous ice blue eyes as they watched the men argue, the perfect way her red hair fell to meet her shoulders and the grey suit that she wore. She contrasted with you so well and yet somehow it seemed you belonged together, the things you would do to that woman. You could only imagine your bodies tangled together under dark sheets, breath hot and heavy and she called your name.
You sat there all these things running through your mind, you had one leg crossed over the other, one hand rested in your lap as the other spun a pen through your fingers, your face without realizing it seemed focused and it wasn’t until you felt a gentle hand on your thigh that pulled you back to reality. You looked to see a well manicured hand gently placed on your thigh unmoving, you looked up meeting gorgeous light blue orbs. “You okay?”
“huh?… oh yea, sorry.” Finally realizing it was only the two of you in the room, trying to hide the blush on your features.
“No it’s okay, you just seemed really intense about something, I was hoping it wasn’t the arguing.”
“Oh no way.” You softly chuckled, she gently smiled at you. Ugh that smile killed you, when she looked at you like that it was like she was begging you to just kiss her.
“Wanna talk about it?” She asked still unmoving as she was leaned towards you.
“maybe after a couple drinks.” You said standing and smoothing out your dark maroon suit.
“first round on me?” She asked, resting her hand on your lower back as she stepped around you.
“Um actually why don’t you just come to my place, I just went shopping so I can throw some dinner together for us.” You watched hopefully but she agreed quickly, almost to quickly and it made you hopeful.
———time jump———
you heard the door open as Dana let herself in and called your name, “In here…” you called.
Quickly you checked yourself the jeans you wore with the flannel slightly unbuttoned and loosely hugging your frame, your soft curls pulled into a loose ponytail. You turned hearing her enter the kitchen wiping your hands in the towel, you looked her over the dark jeans and the tank top hugging her top half, an unbuttoned shirt with rolled sleeves and her hair laid perfectly, even outside of the usual suits and business attire she was drop dead gorgeous and you wanted nothing more than to undress her slowly.
“Drinks are in the fridge, food is almost done.” You smiled motioning towards the fridge, she walked over grabbing a beer and hopping up on the counter next to you.
“So you going to tell me what had you so focused today?” She smirked watching you squirm, little did you know she had a good feeling about what it was.
“Uhm… about that.” You laughed, you looked at her as she waited, her eyes were comforting and so you decided to risk it.
“Okay to be honest it was you, I’ve been attracted to you since the day we met and spending all that time together it… well.” You turned to her stepping in front of her on the counter, her eyes flicked from yours to your lips and back, quickly leaning in you kissed her and felt as she kissed you back.
“sorry, if that changes things but…”
“I’ve been waiting for you to do that.” She said smiling before pulling you back in for more kisses these were deeper more intense than before. She pulled you in closer, wrapping her legs around you, you let your hair fall around you as she ran her hands through it letting them place on your strong shoulders.
“Oh god your lips feel amazing…” you whispered against her, you could feel her smile and slight moan as you kissed her again. You quickly picked her up guiding her to your bedroom not caring about anything else in that moment but the beautiful woman before you, closing the door you turned her around pressing her back to the door one hand next to her head as the other caressed her hip as you kissed her, she quickly tugged at buttons on your shirt pushing it over your shoulders then she started on your pants.
“Wait Dana, have you ever done this before?” You asked reading her eyes.
“with a woman… no… but…” she said nervously.
“its okay, just let me take the lead, show you how it’s done.” You said starting to kiss down her neck, pulling her shirt off and tossing it along with the tank top revealing her smooth black bra you expertly undid the clasp. You placed kisses across her chest feeling her hand come up to your hair and gently rake through as you pulled a nipple into your mouth your hand massaging the other. You guided her to the bed, undoing her pants and panties, tossing them aside quickly stripping yourself. You placed kisses down her stomach feeling her shake with anticipation beneath you. You started slow with kisses and your hands only using one finger and letting her adjust but not long before you added a second feeling as she moaned into your mouth.
“God baby, I-I’m so close…” she said breathlessly.
“it’s okay love just go with it.” A few short moments later and you had her in climax her eyes closed as she arched her back lips slightly parted.
“Y/N that was…”
“You’re not done yet… here.” You said laying on your back and motioning for her to get on top of you. She sat on your lap but you pulled her up.
“what?” She looked at you slightly confused.
you smirked at her, “just trust me, come here.” You pulled her so she was sitting above your face, you could see the glint of her pussy, how wet she was for you, you ran hands up her legs and up her sides, you ran your tongue through her folds tasting her.
“Mm…” you moaned sending a shock wave through her, “you taste amazing baby.” You quickly explored her as she leaned forward her chest having as she gripped the headboard, you could feel her legs begin to shake as you focused on her clit, your inserted your tongue and as you moved your nose ghosted over her clif with the perfect amount of pressure. You could feel how wet you were yourself just from hearing her moans.
“Y/N god here it comes again…” this time you didn’t stop even after her orgasm you kept going two then three until her legs were shaking above you. You laid her down beside you.
“That… was… amazing…” she said out of breath as you held her in your arms, she let her fingers gently explore your body.
“well you have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that.”
“yea well I wish you wouldn’t have.” She smirked against your chest, “I love you Y/N”
“Dana… I-I…”
“I’m serious I always have as a best friend and now as my lover… I love you.”
“Does this mean I can finally call you my girlfriend?” You laughed cheekily.
“You can call me Mrs. Sinclair for all I care.” You both laughed but little to her knowing that in about a year you would be asking her to marry you and three years you’d be talking about having your first baby but for right now you would settle for girlfriend because you felt like the luckiest woman alive.
Summery : Your belly’s cousin and you were staying at cousins with the fishers for a few weeks and you ran into Jeremiah in the kitchen one night..
It was night you were staying at the fishers house for the summer.
It was amazing the late night swims the sunsets everything about cousins was perfect. Especially Jeremiah fisher, he was just so cute and sweet kinda like a golden retriever!
One night I was watching a movie on my laptop in my bedroom the breeze was coming in threw my window and Gilmore girls playing in the back around.
I suddenly had a hankering for cherries. Susannah was really good at keeping every fruit you could think of in the fridge, so I threw on an old hoodie and went downstairs trying to be quiet to not wake anybody.
I opened the fridge and grabbed the box of cherries.
Shit I heard steps coming down the stairs I really hope I didn’t wake anybody.
Shirtless Jeremiah appears in the kitchen, he looks so hot. He leans against the fridge
“What are you doing up at this late?” He says quietly
“Uh I wanted cherries”
“I love cherries..” he says as he’s eyes linger down my body
Oh my god he’s like eye fucking
“You look sexy today” he’d say seductively
“Just shut up and kiss me” I’d say and jump into his arms
He’d push the hair out of my eyes and his hand would slide down and squeeze my ass.
One hand on my ass and his other hand would slide up my hoodie.
There's a ghost in your apartment, you're sure of it, but you're the only one who seems to realize something is amiss. The longer the haunting goes on without any logical explanation, the worse your emotional state gets.
