Sittin’ Pretty
The 141 have reader on their lap.
1.6k - smut
Based on this post.
cw: rough p in v, choking, over stimulation, cock sleeve, smoking
a/n: Sleepy’s first smut post for this fandom. Ovulation is a fucking monster. Only lightly edited because I’m trying to write something once a week come hell or high water and I'm out of time.
Soap loved to have you on his lap, wouldn’t allow his bonnie to lift a single finger while he fucked you into oblivion. This time, you’d told him you were going to take a shower because you felt gross after a work out, but he wanted to make sure you were well and truly dirty before washing off the tangy smelling sweat he loved on you. Pheromones, he claimed. He waited until you’d disrobed, grabbed you around the waist, hauled you out of the bathroom, and shucked off his boxers right before falling back against the couch cushions. He’d let you grind against his dick for a bit, lubing him up with feigned control, before lifting you, lining himself up, and slamming you down just to watch you scream.
“Fuckin’ hell, bonnie,” he grunts, hands gripping your ass with a bruising strength. He uses his hips to toss you up and down his cock, “Ye were gonnae let aw this sweet slick get washed down teh drain? No’ on ma watch.”
Your nails dig into the nape of his neck, fingers twisted in the base of his mohawk as you were used as his own personal fleshlight. One rough hand jumps from your ass to where your bodies are joined together, pushing his fingers in next to his cock in your tight hole to stretch you further. Without breaking pace, he continues bouncing you while sucking his fingers clean. His eyes rolling back with your taste shoves you over the edge.
Your first orgasm is raw and shocking, his name torn from your chest as he fucked you through it with ease. As you come down, your hips go pliant and he drives you towards the next one. If there came a day where he only gave you one orgasm, you’d know he was an imposter sent by the enemy. You didn’t have enough brain power left to do anything but feel his beefy arms lifting you up and sinking you back down over his cock.
“Still nae ready fer a shower,” He grins, mouth sucking marks into your breasts between grunts, glancing down at the creamy ring at the base of his cock, “Gottae get ye real dirty, donnae wan’ ta waste water, aye?”
Sex with Soap was sometimes only twenty minutes, but the man’s ability to pull four orgasms out of you in that time left you wondering why others needed hours to achieve such a simple feat.
Price doesn’t have you on his lap very often, much preferring you on your back where he can hold you in a mating press and work himself into you until you’re fruitlessly trying to push him off of you. Sometimes though, after a hellish day of desk work, he wants to be selfish— deserves to be selfish. So he gets comfortable in his favorite arm chair, lights a cigar, and sits back to watch you bounce yourself on his cock.
And gods did you love to ride him, to take your pleasure just how you liked, alternating between rolls and impaling yourself on his meaty cock. John loved to watch your pleasure, your cute little moans and whines turn him on like no other. The only problem, if you could even call it that, was if you coughed from the smoke, your cunt would clench around him so nicely that he’d decide to come right then and there regardless of if you’d found your own release. You had to alternate between slow even breaths timed against his plumes of smoke to keep yourself from ending things too quickly.
“So greedy…” He murmurs, blowing smoke just above your head, enough to make your eyes water from the acrid heat. Whimpering, you pick up the pace, moving your hands from his chest to behind you, clenched his thighs for support. Your hips roll and bounce over him, moans spilling freely as you find the right angle for yourself and pick up the pace. Every raise of your hips burned your muscles and you were fighting against your own pussy walls sucking him back into your heat. He doesn’t mind the wavering pace, your cunt is his favorite place to be no matter the position. “All I’m doin’ is sittin’ here, but you like usin' me to feel good, don’t you? Come on, lass. Find your pleasure before I do.”
A keen is caught behind your bitten lip, nodding furiously as you work yourself over him. He was thick, stretching you out on every drop and only occasionally hitting your cervix. When a particularly harsh roll of your hips lights up your spine with a zip of pain, your hand slips and you nearly fall backwards off the chair. Price is quick to catch you, hauling you back up with a smirk.
“Careful… if I drop this cigar, I’ll have to start a new one.”
Gaz has his arm banded across the front of your hips, the other hand holding the base of your throat. Your back is to his chest as he pumps himself into you with steady thrusts. “Such a sweet little thing for me, just stay right here, yeah? Lemme take care of this sweet cunt for you.”
“Kyyyle…” You whine, hands pawing at his meaty thighs, but it's no use trying to get away. Once Gaz has you, you’re not going anywhere until he’s decided you’re both done. His cock’s natural curve drags against your walls at the perfect angle in this position and he’s ruthlessly precise about it. His grip tightens around your throat at ythe plea, not breaking the rhythm that has you climbing a familiar peak.
Gaz hushes you with a kiss to your temple, tongue darting out to taste the sweat beading at your hairline. It didn’t matter to him how long it took you to come, because once he’s picked a pace, that’s where you’ll both finish. You got off on his subtle control, the willing bondage of pleasure you gave up to him.
“Gonna come for me, babydoll?” He whispers, nipping your earlobe when your head lolls back against his shoulder with a shudder. He adjusts the arm pinning your hips as your back arches off his chest, “Come on then, squeeze me, babydoll.” His words send you over, a choked cry presses your flexing throat muscles against his palm.
When he feels your slick drip down his thighs, he moves again, slow punching thrusts into your silken walls as you mewl in over stimulation. Always the gentleman, he makes sure to give you exactly what you need before finding his own release. It’s only a few minutes later before he’s biting into the junction of your shoulder and flooding you with his come. Even as his cock softens and more slick drips down your thighs, he rolls you over himself just to hear the broken record of his ruined lover.
Ghost puts you on his lap when you’ve been a brat- bending over to pick things up you could have reached your arm down to get, pouting with a swish of your hips when he tells you to wait until he’s done with work, mentioning this fancy new vibrator your single friend swears by… all this left you sitting on his lap, fully dressed sans panties. He’d unzip his pants enough to free his cock, pull up your skirt around your hips, and impale you on his dick without preamble as he sat at his desk. If you moved, you got a slap to the ass, if you whined, he’d pinch your nipple, but usually if you were quiet and let him finish his work, he’d fuck you into next week.
You were not in the mood to be good today, he’d only gotten back from deployment a day ago but had only fucked you twice! You’d felt an achy emptiness the entire month he was gone and now you only got the occasional slow grind of his cock against your womb when he shifted position.
“Please please please… need more… please, Si…” You whine feverishly, fat tears in your eyes from how long he’s kept you stretched full without release.
“More? My cock isn’t enough for you anymore? Only gone for a month and you’re fucking feral for it.”
Ghost huffs, trying to ignore the smell of arousal permeating the room, seeping under his mask and trapping him in the smell he craved more than air. His gloved hand slips between your bodies, a single finger pressing rough circles into your clit. When you tried to roll against the friction he pulled his hand back, “Move and you lose it.”
Your lip pouts out in frustration and need, but you nod, biting your lip and focusing on staying still. At least this way, you’d finally be able to come. His finger brings you to the edge quickly, your whole body clenching around his cock like it had been weeks since your last release. Tiny twitches of your hips are the only movement he’ll allow besides the squeezing of your arms around his shoulders. You’re rewarded with a sharp intake of breath as he was squeezed like a vice by your wet walls.
His finger doesn’t stop its assault on your clit, his other hand leaving his work to hold your hips down against him, “No, you’re not done. You want to come on my cock so bad? Take it.”
You gasp, squirming against the overstimulation as tears fall down your cheeks. It’s not until the third orgasm he tears out of you that you realize his game— he would keep his cock resting deep inside you, not moving an inch, until the sweet clench of your repeated orgasms made him come.
