IM GOOD MY LOVE, HBU?♥️♥️

Anyways

Motel sex tape with dilf!rhett!

something about this makes me insane thanks bestie!!!

you and rhett had been sneaking around for a few months at this point. silent quickies in the kitchen and him pressing his hand over your mouth when you’re in his bed. he brought up the suggestion to go to a motel for a weekend to get out of town and away from wandering eyes. you immediately said yes.

you checked in together and he couldn’t keep his hands off you when you were trying to unlock the door, kissing all over your neck.

“i wanna do something, if you’re comfortable with it,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. he reached for you, grabbing onto your hips and pulling you close. “i brought my camera.”

your eyes glazed over and you’re nodding before he even asks the question. he just smirks and presses a kiss against your clothed stomach.

“go get ready for me. i know you brought that new set,” of course he knew because you couldn’t stop telling him about how sexy it was. as you came out of the bathroom, he had the camera held up to his eye, letting out a low whistle.

“look at you, sweetheart. spin for me,” he groaned as you turned for him, throwing him a look over your shoulder before making your way to him. “lay down.”

he recorded his fingers running all over the lace, free hand groping your breast before traveling down the middle of your chest and stomach. he toyed with the edge of your panties and smirked at the way you squirmed.

he moved off the bed to set the camera up on the dresser before hopping onto you. he buried his face between your legs, making you cum on his tongue before he flipped you over on your hands and knees so you were facing the camera.

he slid into you easily, both of you letting out a loud moan at the feeling. his hand slid up your back and into your hair, yanking on it until you were staring into the lens.

“smile for daddy, bambi.”

HOLY FUCKING HELL IM AN ABSOLUTE WHORE FOR THIS

Chainsaws and Parking Lots

A/N: Adrian Chase x F!Reader Wordcount: 1.9K Warnings: Rough Smut. Blood Kink. Public Sex. Oral. Sex near dead bodies. Hurt/Comfort ish. Pain kink. Summary: Adrian never knows how to deal with tears. A/N: lol dis is wild and written in a daze

“I do bad things.”

“Correction,” Adrian exclaims. “You do bad things to bad people.”

You shoot a glare at him - your brows knitting together.

He loves the violence of you. He loves watching you tear people apart.

“What the hell did you use?” he murmurs - already hard - already half-blind with it. You turn toward him - your sneakers are stained red. You're not even dressed in your suit. Civilian clothes. Interesting. You wordlessly point to the gore-ridden tool that is nestled between the pieces and parts of dead bodies. Hot as fuck.

“Is that a chainsaw?” He places his hand on his chest - feels the thump thump thump of his own heart beginning to beat too fast. His cock twitches.

You nod mutely.

He wants to breathe i love you against your carnage-drenched hair. He wants to shove you against that tree by the road, ruck your shorts down and lick your pussy. He bets you get soaked - dripping with that punch of girl-flavor he finds addicting. Adrian Chase could eat pussy all day every day. He’s great at it. He thinks - or so he's been told by like three people.

“What I’d do?” you ask no one in particular. Your eyes are round and big and your voice is small and hushed as it slips from your mouth.

He gingerly pulls you away from the massacre you’ve caused. He wants to tell you how Tobe Hooper has nothing on you, but that might not fly. Your shirt is dark and soggy. Your cute white sneakers branded in arterial spray. He needs to be tactful here. He tries to think how Chris would react? If he’d react at all? They’re just extras. They just got in the way. They’re regrettable casualties except they’re not too regrettable because they did work for the mad scientist that we are currently hunting!

He controls himself. Shouldn’t come on too strong.

Instead - he pinches your cheek with his clumsy, gloved fingers. “You’re adorable.”

You blink at him - mouth parting in surprise. “That was - was not adorable.” He sees it - he sees your throat bob and your lashes flutter and your eyes go all glassy with tears. You swallow thickly and scrub a hand over your face. “You’re so fucking weird, Vig.”

He thinks that means that you're fine, but then he's wrong.

Your face goes flat before it collapses. You start melting down. Your chest heaves (he’s totally not looking). You press your hand to your stomach - choking on air.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

He could wax poetic about how the both of you are born killers - how this is strictly the job even though he’s about 92% sure he hasn’t been hired to do any of this in particular. You’re the Waller puppet with the enhanced strength and fighting prowess and he really wants to ask you if whatever experimentation you got as a kid made you like ten times prettier? No one should have tits and bone structure like that and also be able to wield a chainsaw like it’s a baton.

“Okay,” he murmurs as he studies your stricken face. “It’s alright?”

Great. Excellent job. He was making strides in human empathy.

You wrap your arms around yourself. Your face is still screwed up - still very lost and confused and he finds himself stumped.

“Chill out?” he advises as he steps toward you - palms-up like he’s attempting to gentle a bucking horse. “It’s fine. It’s totally fine.”

You chew your lower lip - expression anxious. “I didn’t - I didn’t mean to kill them all.”

“Okay...” He slowly peels off his mask. You’ve seen him before. “Just as an FYI, people tend to bleed to death when you cut off their body parts.”

You huff out a laugh. Your teeth vibrantly white against all that dark red. He wants to eat your mouth - your skin. He thinks you're going to cry again - maybe start sobbing.

He makes a decision - selfish as it is.

He can’t help himself. He grasps the curves of your hips and yanks you toward him. You go rigid. He presses his lips to your throat - wet and insistent. You sigh - relaxing into him - going to putty. He trails them up your jaw before he tucks your ear lobe between his teeth and bites. You shudder - your blood-caked fingers digging into the backs of his arms - trying to rip through his tactical suit.

He’s going to fuck you. He’s going to fuck you covered in blood because how fucking spectacular would that be?

You grip his face to wrench him down to your mouth. It’s a saliva-laden kiss. Messy and wet and tastes like metal. He doesn’t mind - not at all. In fact - he really fucking likes it.

***

“Fuck,” you gasp as Adrian rails you into the cold, hard pavement. He’s got you trapped beneath him - pinned like a pretty butterfly on stark paper (but not the alien variety)

He sucks in a breath when you hitch your knees higher over his waist. Your pussy clutching at him - tight and hot as a fist. “Um,” He kisses your cheek - drags his tongue along the ridge of your jaw. “This - like not to be weird - but this is probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever done.”

You arch an eyebrow and he draws his hips back - the head of his cock catching on the fluttering rim of your hole before he drives forward. “Shit, Vig,” you wheeze, which really kind of gets him going (not like he already was). He’s had to think about mile-long CVS receipts in order to keep himself from blowing his load. It’s nearly impossible because the air is swamped with that copper-stench of blood, there’s the evidence of your extremely violent tendencies just above your head, and the stimulating thought of them getting caught screwing in public next to a pile of dead bodies. Fucking cool.

He almost - almost - hopes that Chris would show up looking for them.

He lifts himself up slightly - forearms framing your face. He bears his weight - glancing down between you to watch as his cock disappears inside your sex - the thick of him obscenely shiny with your slick. Your thighs are splayed open - your shirt is hiked above your perfect tits where there’s more gore - more and more red just painting you like an abstract splatter piece.

You’re making really hot noises - high-pitched, breathy uh uh uh’s that stroke him off. “Can we like do this more than once?” he asks as he eases himself out of you. Your expression morphs into displeasure - your teeth click in your mouth. He’s already got you before you can complain. He licks his fingers and shoves two of them into your fucked-out cunt. He grinds his thumb against your clit - making you jerk.

“Sure,” you reply in between hitched moans. “Sure - fuck - whatever you want, Vig.”

He simpers. It could be sort of kind of romantic if he thought about it. The night sky is plumb-purple blue as a liver. The stars faintly twinkling behind the wash of smog that swells from the city. The subtle smell of decay and pungent oil from the chainsaw. His glasses fog up because of the cool temperatures while the two of you remain fever-hot. He finally has to remove them after they slide down his nose for the tenth time. He grins as he watches you writhe on his hand. Each pump of his fingers - straight to the knuckle - creates crude, squelching noises.

“You’ve got the juiciest fucking pussy,” he praises as his eyes bare down upon your exposed cunt - watching it bloom around his ministrations. He’s gotta get his cock back in there, but he also doesn’t mind this honey-slow pause - this moment that he can really look at you fully as he massages in and out and his thumb circles your perky little clit and he smiles at you in the cold dark of this abandoned parking lot outside an abandoned warehouse. “Can I lick it?”

You nod - furiously - desperately - and it really gets him charged up - to watch you splayed on your back - spread out and needy. Fuckk, it's nice.

He removes his fingers and lowers himself so that he can force your knees over his shoulders. Your heels knock against his suit - his spine. There’s your cunt - gaping and glossy and clenching on air. He glances up at you - the heave of your tits - the blood staining your face - caught up in your hair. You’re clean down here - just all wet from him and his fingers and his cock and -

“Adrian,” you plead and it rumbles through him - rides him hard - the delicious bite of your voice calling him by his name.

He goes to town - his lips kissing your parted entrance - his tongue thrusting inside you to taste your heat. You're soapy - the slim tang of salt and sweat and flesh. The brush of cordite and iron in the creases of your skin. He suctions his mouth over your clit - flicking it until you fist your hands into his hair and yank. He sucks a fold into his mouth - he nips the other. You’re panting - nearly grinding down against his face - potentially breaking his nose, which he genuinely wouldn’t mind because he’d be able to tell Chris that it happened because he was tongue-fucking you on the hard cold ground next to a bunch of dead bodies.

He licks and licks and worships. He traces the tip of his tongue over the tiny nub that throbs and swells and sometimes he teases his fingers inside you - relishing as they contract around his knuckles. He feels you come - a muffled scream against the back of your hand. The rush of your liquid - your pleasure - the sticky feel of it on his chin and jaw and the way your eyes dance over him - provocatively - sweetly -

“C’mere,” you demand and he goes - sliding up and over your body - his cock so hard that it bounces against his stomach - the rough texture of his suit. He buries you beneath him - frantically kissing you with his pussy-soaked tongue. Your thighs widen - your heels digging into his ass to maneuver him just right. He sinks back inside the molten ache of your cunt. You gasp at the stretch of it - the slight burn he imagines as he barrels into you without caution because he knows you can handle it. He fucks you hard - leveraging his weight - your nails digging into his throat - his cheeks. “Does it hurt?” He presses his face where your shoulder meets your neck - he laps at the spots of blood. “Is my cock hurting you?”

“Yes,” you sigh - hips bucking up and into him. He grabs a handful of your ass - forcing your thigh up higher.

“Let me get deep,” he mumbles as he takes you in long, tortuous strokes. He eases himself out - right to the tip - before plunging forward - forcing a whimper out of your mouth. “My little killer queen,” he calls you. The blood in his nose and the ripple and rock of the Queen song in his ears. The moon glinting off the chainsaw that rests not far from their tangled bodies.

You shudder - going tight around him. The burst of a surprise orgasm pushing through your core and curling around him as he tries to dream up more CVS Receipts and blueberry muffins with tentacles and his grandmother in a top hat, but it does nothing. He drags himself through the dripping clenching bite of your cunt - fucking you relentlessly as you take it like a champ. The sloppy, messy thrusts are met with your lips murmuring don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop, Adrian. Vig. Adrian.

His pace stumbles - he hits his high - fills you right up with spurt after spurt of his warm spend. He’s surprised - falling back on his heels while you sit up on your elbows. Your thighs hang open and he watches his own pearly spunk drip from your puffy, swollen pussy. Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

“You’re pretty good at that.”

He frowns. “At what?” He needs his glasses. He needs a burrito and idly wonders if you’d grab one with him and then let him eat you out again.

“Comforting.”

He forgot that’s how this started. “I’m totally an empath,” he smirks - slapping his hand across your cunt and making you yelp. You kick him in the chin. “Shit,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Okay - I deserved that.”

“You can make it up to me.”

“Fuck yes I can.”

and he’d be so sweet to you when you’re pregnant!

meeting your every need and he’s with you every step of the way during labor and once the baby comes he’s over the moon and he def cries bc he’s just so happy to be a dad😭

dad!bob is what keeps me up late at night, I need to give that man as many babies as he wants!!! (and he wants a lot, he has a breeding kink, trust me I know him)

Bob has a DIRTY BREEDING KINK

and the man wants a whole house of kids and I would happily provide

AHHHH GOING FERAL BABE THIS IS IMMACULATE

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐞

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this was the winner for the pick of fic, im so sorry it's out later than promised- i just wanted to make sure it wasn't rushed <3 i hope you guys enjoy it!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bodyguard!frank castle x reader

𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤/𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 & 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝! 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭/𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬!

𝟏𝟖+ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+, language, unprotected sex, size kink, oral (m & f), taunting, fingering, praise kink, light cockwarming?, sorry for any missed typos

Traveling with your parents while they're on business was better in theory. It was a lot of waiting around in hotel rooms or conference halls- and it was more boring than you could even imagine. The cities you were in weren't even worth city seeing.

Tonight, while they're out at a charity gala, they left you with your "bodyguard"- or adult babysitter, as you called him. Your parents thought it was best to have extra protection with you, as you're in foreign cities, and they "didn't want anything happening to their only child." Codeword for: we don't trust that you can protect yourself.

Frank traveled with you guys the whole time but never really said anything to you- only small talk and giving you the rundown of the day ahead. He was a grump- and gorgeous.

He stayed with you all day and all night, staying in your hotel room till your parents came back- then he headed to his room. Frank didn't mind you, but you talked a lot more than he liked (you did it mainly to annoy him- see how far you could push him).

The majority of the time, you could convince him to let you sneak off or push him enough to where he clenched his jaw and glared at you. Tonight, on the other hand, was especially hard.

He wasn't budging; he caught on to your little game three cities ago- and if there was anyone as stubborn as you, it was him.

Frank had to keep himself together around you; if he didn't, he would have fallen for you completely. You were nothing like him- and that's what he liked about you. You were like a shot of espresso, always ready for the next thing and challenging him in ways that caught him off guard.

He wanted to be with you, and every day it got harder to push the feelings away.

"Do you ever speak?" You're on the bed with your arms crossed, blankly staring at the tv.

Frank sat in the chair, watching the tv and occasionally watching the door. Nothing has ever happened since he's been with you- not even the slightest threat, but he never let his guard down.

He didn't respond. You sighed,

"What's with the silent treatment?" Sitting up and leaning against the headboard, Frank didn't flinch, eyes still focused on the tv.

"Did my parents tell you not to speak to me or something?" He shrugged, not answering your question.

With each question, his irritation grew- tonight, he was not in the mood for your game.

He inhaled in irritation,

"Do you ever stop talking?" You rolled your eyes.

Huffing, you got up from the bed walking into the bathroom to change. The later it got, the less interested you were in waiting to say goodnight to your parents. You changed out of your sweats and hoodie into spandex and a fitted tank top in the bathroom. Not bothering to put on a bra, you decided to up the anty.

You always wondered what he was like in bed. He was so rough, you wondered if it translated to bed.

Frank does a double-take as you walk out. His eyes instantly fell to your chest- your shirt clung to your breasts, the outline of your nipples peaked through the thin fabric of the shirt. It was the first time Frank had seen this much of your skin- most nights, you opted out for the hoodie or waited till he went to his room to change.

"See something you like?" You tease, not bothering to look at him while putting your phone on the charger and putting away your reading materials in the drawer.

He doesn't say anything but watches as your tidy up your area. Bending over in front of him, picking up your shoes, or grabbing your bags- every move you made, you could feel his eyes burning through you.

Frank tried to look away, but he was mesmerized by your body- and the bounce of your breasts as you bent over. He shifted in his seat, quickly adjusting his jeans, clearing the lump in his throat.

Chuckling, you sat at the edge of the bed- looking at him.

"So, you don't talk, but you stare at my chest?" You ask, watching him avoid eye contact with you.

He clenches his jaw, taking a deep breath- heat rose to his cheeks. Confidence soars through you each time he shifts in his seat, knowing he was finally gonna let you win this round.

"Am I making the big bad punisher blush?" You taunt him further.

"You're a pain in my ass, you know that?" The rasp in his voice sent a shiver up your spine, pebbling your nipples.

"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?" Laughing, you stand up to walk back to your bed.

Frank laughs, sitting up in the chair. He wasn't going to let you win- especially not that easy.

"Nothing you'd be able to handle." Stopping straight in your tracks, you turn around. He smirks, looking up at your stunned face. Not the response you were expecting from him.

"You're too easy." Frank laughs, taking a swig from the water bottle next to him.

Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, you could feel your blood beginning to boil.

"Easy? I handle anything. You're probably just bluffing anyway." Standing your ground, your eyes follow Frank's as he stands up.

His body toward over yours- and you immediately feel small and instantly regret your words. Frank didn't say anything, just stared your down. Knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you.

Arousal pooled in your panties as the gap between you got smaller. Your breath falls inconsistent, and your heartbeat begins to rise.

"Is that right? You can handle anything?" His voice falls below a whisper.

He wasn't touching you, but your skin burned, and you felt a faint heartbeat in your core- already aching for him.

Standing your ground, even though your legs felt weak, you shook your head.

"Alright, since you can handle anything, why don't I fuck that smart-ass mouth of yours?" Your eyes widened, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

Frank smirks, thinking he's calling your bluff- but you agree.

"Okay." His cock throbbed against the fabric of his briefs.

The image of his cock in your mouth alone was enough for cum to leak from his tip. You kneeled in front of him- the size of his bulge made butterflies flood your stomach. Soon you'd be eating your own words. You unzip his jeans and pull them down.

Frank pulls off his shirt and tosses it on the chair behind him. Looking up, you notice the toned abdomen, and your chest becomes heavy. You tugged his briefs down and bit your tongue when his cock sprung free. The ache between your legs grew, and the arousal dampened your thighs.

Sitting back on your legs, you were hesitant to touch him- he was big- bigger than you think you could handle. Frank watched your eyes widen, and your hand shook as you reached out. He hisses as your cold fingers wrap around his length. You begin to stroke his cock, slowly- locking eyes with him.

Frank liked the sight before him- you on your knees, nipples poking through your shirt, innocently looking up at him like you didn't have your hand on his cock. Running your tongue along from the base to his tip- closing your lips around his head.

Frank hisses as you begin to take more of him in your mouth. Sinking your nails into his thighs, you use him for stability. Letting saliva coat your mouth, you take a deep breath and attempt to take him all. Gagging against his cock, you pull off of him- gasping for breath.

"What happened to 'I-can-handle-anything'?" Frank coos, watching tears well in the corners of your eyes.

Determined to prove him wrong, you slip him back inside your mouth- gagging and tears falling from your eyes; Frank guides your movements. The ache between your legs gets so loud, you swear Frank could hear it.

You relax your jaw and bob your head while he continues to slowly thrust into your mouth. With each thrust, his cock touches the back of your throat. The gags are mixed with moans. Frank's cock twitches in your mouth. Pulling you by the hair, your lungs fill with a full breath as Frank pulls you off his cock.

He was impressed with your determination and loved how small you looked in front of him.

"Good girl..." The praise made your pussy flutter.

Adjusting your hips, you tried to relieve yourself, but nothing helped. You returned to Frank- he was close, pre cum dripped down the side of his length. Licking up the pre cum, you collect the saliva on your tongue and let it drip onto his tip. Not breaking eye contact, Frank was stunned at the act.

You twist and stroke his length using one hand as your other hand begins to massage his balls. Your tongue swirls around his tip. Pleasure rushed down, and Frank's hips buck; within seconds, he's gripping your hair and shoots ropes of cum in your mouth. A string of curses falls from his lips.

You smile devilishly up at him. Frank guides you back to your feet, not hesitating to press his lips against yours. In your mind, you had the advantage back- but Frank had you where he wanted you.

His fingers slipped inside your shorts, you whimper into his mouth. His middle finger circles around your clit, warming your core. Frank's free hand slid up your shirt, holding you steady. Your legs felt numb, and your focus slowly began to slip.

"So wet... Is this all from me fuckin that pretty little mouth?" He whispers against your ear.

Your forehead pressed to his shoulder, your mind felt foggy the more he toyed with your clit. Frank hiked up your shirt over your breasts.

"Fuck," He grunts.

He backs your body back toward the bed, fingers still between your folds. Once the back of your knees hit the bed, he removed his fingers from your cunt. Frank's calloused palms slide up the sides of your body, removing your shirt.

You snap back to reality as soon as your back hits the mattress. His mouth is on your jaw and traveling down your neck. Your fingers run through his hair and your back arches; he makes his way down the valley of your breasts.

His tongue glides down your navel and to the band of your panties. Within seconds your panties are being pulled down your legs and tossed somewhere in the room. The tv still played whatever it was that you two were watching- and you were thanking God you had your own hotel room this time around.

"Christ," He almost whines, spreading open your thighs, finally seeing your cunt.

It's dripping with arousal. He hooks his arms under your legs and begins to kiss the inside of your thighs. Gently blowing on your sensitive skin. You squirm and whine the closer he gets to your clit, and denies the pleasure.

He teases your clit, kissing around your thighs and teasing your hole with his finger.

Frank's lips finally closed around your clit. Sucking on the sensitive nerve, his tongue swirls around it. Shamelessly, you whimper and moan. His palms are caressing the top of your thighs, soothing your squirms. He takes his time, licking up every last drop of your juices- moaning into your cunt.

Your body went into overdrive. The pleasure began to build in the pit of your stomach. You balled the comforter in your hands, tugging on it as your back arched and hips dug into the mattress.

Frank looks up as his middle finger circles around your clit, before he slips two fingers inside you. He starts off slow, watching your body roll into his fingers impatiently. As soon as the pleasure begins to overwhelm you, Frank pulls away.

A frustrated whine leaves your lips, losing your orgasm.

"You wanna cum? You're gonna have to work for it." Frank uses your thighs and pulls your body towards him.

"What?" You hiss, irritated at the lost pleasure.

"You're gonna have to ride my cock, princess." The thought alone made your stomach flutter.

"Unless... you don't think you can handle it." The challenge was enough motivation for you to sit up and huff.

Frank chuckles lay down on the bed. You straddle his hips, taking a deep breath- wondering if you'd rather be right or be able to walk tomorrow.

Frank stares at your body on top of him. The way your breast hung in front of him, the way our thighs sat perfectly on the sides of his, and the way he wanted to wrap his hand around your neck and fuck the attitude out of you.

"I can do it..." Suddenly the confidence you had minutes ago disappeared.

You took a deep breath and lined his cock with your entrance. Frank grunted as you sunk down onto him. You could only take an inch or two before you pulled off. His cock stretched your walls more than ever before- you whimpered and lined him up again. Tears soon well in your eyes the more you try to take.

"You can do, princess. I believe in you," Frank taunts, rubbing over your thighs.

Ignoring his remarks, you went down further, moaning and falling forward. You caught yourself putting your hands on his chest, using him as stability. Taking another breath, you sunk down again. Frank's palms rest on your hips, helping you along.

"Fuck!" You moan, digging your nails into his chest.

"Am I too big for your little cunt? It's okay to admit when you're wrong, princess."

You're unable to form sentences, too overwhelmed with pleasure.

His cock fills your cunt, stretching your walls out completely. Staying still for a moment to adjust to his size- before Frank starts to thrust upward. Yelping in pleasure, Frank picks up his pace. Your body goes numb.

Frank had to find a steady pace, or he'd cum too early. Your walls pulsated around his cock, pushing closer and closer to his orgasm- but he needed you to say it, say that you were wrong. He wasn't going to let you finish until you admitted it.

"Look at you, fucked out already?" Frank teases.

Frank wrapped his arm around your back, adjusting your body, so he was upright. The adjustment pushed him deeper inside you, and your arms wrapped around his neck- muffling your incoherent sounds into his neck.

The deeper he went, the tighter the knot in your stomach became. One last adjustment, and you're on your back with your neck at the edge of the bed. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting his strokes halfway.

"You're gonna cum, aren't you? I can feel it, princess." His lips press against your jaw while other is cupping the other side and teasingly falling to your neck.

All you could do was nod your head and whimper; you couldn't think anymore- he won, and you didn't care anymore about winning. All you wanted was to cum.

"If you wanna cum, tell me I'm right." Another deep, slow stroke, taunting you.

"Tell me I'm right; tell me how good I'm making that needy cunt feel." Gathering enough words in your head, you mumble.

"You're right..." Frank moves his mouth away from your jaw and looks you in the eye.

"And?" Your eyes are locked on his, and it's getting harder to hold back your orgasm.

"... you feel so good inside me," That's all you could muster before he picked up his pace once more.

"Yeah?" He holds the eye contact.

"Show me. Cum for me." With permission, your mouth falls open, your hips squirm and dig into the mattress, and your nails sink into his back.

Your walls contract around him, and he hisses in pleasure.

Frank follows soon behind you, filling your cunt up with his cum. He watches your face relax, and your chest falls back into a steady rhythm. Frank holds himself inside you for a moment to catch his own breath. Once your body calms down from the high, you lean forward and press your lips against his.

While your lips are on his, he lays on his side, pulling you into him- still inside you, you place your leg over his.

"Stay here tonight..." You whisper, tracing up and down his bicep.

Not realizing what he has gotten himself into, he nods- kissing your forehead.

AHHH OMG THANK YOU!! 💋

Te Lo Ruego

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

nsfw masterlist | main masterlist

word count: 0.8k

summary: miguel is desperate for just a taste

warnings: SMUT (18+), minors DNI, miguel being a munch and pussy drunk, that’s it, it’s just him being desperate to eat you out <3 also, spanish (translation at the end)

A/N: I read two words and was inspired to write this…took me about an hour and now this is all i’m thinking about, please enjoy // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

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I’ve been struck by another smutty miguel idea and I’ll write it when I get off work today <3

this is a lil thot here but excuse you the breeding kink and baby fever go brrr.. anyways imagine mickey like finding out you want kids and then going FERAL. i just- that image in my head is one i am PROUD of creating

But it is an IMPORTANT thot. This awakened something, I think. A lil nsfwish so 18+, and there's a cut. (Reference to their conversation about what they'd name their kids from "swallow you like sunshine") ahoy, ahoy this became a whole thing --

--

so deep in love with you (baby love) [mickey “fanboy” garcia x fem!civilian!reader, aka “cielo”]

Word Count: 1.3k (always a nerd, never a blurb) of nerves, honey-sweetness, and the eternity of love’s promise

Warnings: hints of smut, fingering, breeding kink (obvi) and comeplay. mildest of mild hints of choking. 18+, please.

Why were you so nervous?

No, seriously, why were you nervous? You and Mickey had had this conversation before. There was no reason for you to be this anxious, sitting silently during the dinner he had made for you, twirling spaghetti around your fork endlessly.

If Mickey found your silence disquieting, he had the good grace not to say anything, eyeing you with those bourbon-honey swirled eyes of his that drove you absolutely crazy.

You could do this. This is Mickey you were talking to. Mickey, who had stood in front of the censor so the sliding door at the grocery store stayed open while you tried not to slip in a puddle on your way in. Mickey, who wraps his hands around you and puts them in the pouch pocket of your hoodie while you wait for movie tickets. Mickey, who brought you coffee in bed this morning. Mickey, who plays with Bob's kids, talks to them like they're adults, and excitedly talks too fast when he spills to you all the new facts he's learned about cuttlefish after spending an afternoon with them.

You could tell him this.

"Ehm," you cleared your throat, putting down your fork that had a veritable hive of spaghetti twirled to the end of it by now. "M?" You ventured, waiting for his eyes to meet yours across the table before continuing.

"Yeah, Cielo?" He must sense your nerves. He put his fork down, too, waiting patiently for you to continue.

You cast your eyes down the smear of red sauce across your plate that looked vaguely like a bloated bear before, murmuring,

"Ithinkimreadytotry," you rushed.

Mickey cocked his head to the side, eyes swimming with questions, "Sorry?" He asked.

"I think," you exhaled, tilting your jaw to boldly (in your opinion) meet your husband's eye. "I think I'm ready? To start, you know, trying? Only if you are, I mean, I know you leave again soon, so we don't have a ton of time, and it doesn't have to be now, but I'm ready if you're ready and I just wanna have a baby with you, if that's cool--" you rambled, cutting yourself off when you saw Mickey's eyes widen, his hand reaching over the table to press his finger gently over your lips, rendering you silent.

"Baby," he chuckled. "A baby?"

You nodded, slumping back in your seat, deflated, at the toll your rant had taken on your body.

Mickey eyed you again, seemingly not eager to respond.

He nods, pushing his chair back and standing up, making his way around the table and over to you.

"So," he reaches for you, beckoning you up from your seat with the gentle tug of his warm arm around your waist. "Which one do we try for first, hm?" He asks as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, lips trailing the thrumming pulse along the column of your throat. "Vero or Valencia, boy or girl?"

Without giving you a chance to respond, Mickey hoists you over his shoulder, carrying you through the threshold to the living room, gently depositing you on the couch. You gasped at the feel of his fingers tugging at the waistband of your leggings, seemingly perpetually warm, something that emanates from him, tried and true.

And Mickey barely lets you get a word in edgewise, as you open your mouth to respond, he fuses his lips to yours, sliding his tongue into your mouth as his fingers continue to tug your leggings down your legs.

Like a heatwave on a summer's day, Mickey had overwhelmed you, sunshine and molten gold, his hips now rolling into yours on the couch.

"W-wait," you pushed his shoulders, his lips separating from yours, flushed, kiss-bitten, and honeyed. "Now?!"

"You just gave this whole spiel about how we don't have a ton of time," Mickey reasoned, his fingers trailing to your waist as he rolled his hips into yours again, causing you to buck at the feel of him through his sweatpants. "Why not now?"

"M!" You swatted his bicep lightly with the back of your hand, "I haven't showered today. I'm wearing ratty old leggings, for god's sake. I look a mess!"

Mickey hmm'd, a purring little hum of dissent lodged in his throat, like a perpetually displeased jungle cat.

"Agree to disagree, amor," he eyed you as though you were the meal he had been enjoying moments ago.

"First of all," he presses a kiss to your throat, one hand coming up to follow it, fingers lightly wrapping their way around your neck as he feels the effect he has on you in the blood rushing through your veins, beneath his fingers, heated and heady. "You aren't wearing your leggings ... Anymore."

He presses a kiss to your lips, following the gentle gesture with an intentional scraping of teeth, a little bite to his bark.

"Second of all," his other hand at your waist now slips between you to feel the now-soaked lace at the very center of you, plucking it aside to allow him to stroke the seam of your cunt, his touch causing your lips to part in a gasp, your eyes to flutter closed. "You look hot as fuck. Always do."

With that, Mickey slips a finger inside of you, pleased at the feel of your heated walls around him as he plays you to an unheard rhythm, rolling his thumb over your clit. Eagerly swallowing your breathy little moans as he kisses you through his attentions.

"M'gonna fuck you, Cielo," he murmurs, the heat of his body leaving yours as he rocks back on the couch to shuck his sweatpants down. "Gonna give you a baby. Gonna make you come first, though..."

"I want that," you sigh, twining your fingers through the curls you know will be shorn once he leaves, eager to tug, eager to capitalize. Eager to make him yours. "Want everything with you."

...

Later in the night, Mickey takes in the serenity of your features bathed in the white-blue glow of the television as you two take in "The Empire Strikes Back" with unseeing eyes, exhausted and high off of each other. He had put on the movie and grabbed you a chocolate bar after round ... Three, was it?

And he didn't know if it would take right away, really. But he was hell-bent on trying, having fucked you into the couch until you'd forgotten your own name, pushing his release back into you when he had withdrawn, fingers gently sweeping along your opening to urge you through another orgasm, while keeping his spend inside of you.

Now, he's admiring you, the curve of your waist. Imagining the way your stomach will swell someday, the genesis of your collective devotion.

So, really, he doesn't know what compels him to tell you, but he says it anyway --

"You know," your eyes meet his at his words, lips curled in a sweet, sleepy smile, encouraging him to continue. "If you get pregnant this year, Javy owes Payback twenty bucks."

"Excuse me, what?!" You cock an eyebrow at him, seated on your elbows the better to take in what your husband had just said.

"Ehm, yeah," Mickey was sheepish now, scrubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "They were teasing, you know how they are... And, well, I know that I've got it in me, so really, I don't know what they were trying to imply. Just giving me shit, I think."

You put your hand up to silence your husband, biting back a chuckle as you clarify,

"M, do you mean to tell me you wagered with your co-workers about how soon you could knock me up?"

And Mickey, expert at reading you though be was, was grasping to tell whether you were amused or upset. It's a fine line to walk, sometimes, truly...

"Uh, yeah, I guess I did..." He trailed off, glancing at you with apologetic doe eyes.

A laugh bubbled from your lips, a tipsy little thing, telling champagne bubbles as you laughed at your husband's ridiculous antics, tugging him toward you, and pressing your lips to his.

"Claro. C'mon then, daddy," you murmur, kissing him with each word. "We've gotta get Reuben that money."

--

tagging some fanboy girlies (so sorry): @joaquinwhorres @withahappyrefrain @thegirlwhowritesfics  @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @moonlight-prose  @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @justalonelyslytherin @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboysfangirl @siriusfahey @the-navistar-carol @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @thedaredevilsgirl @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid  @maxmayfield @eagerforthesky @callmemana @mxgyver  @andrewrussgarfield @bioodforbiood  @the-purity-pen @luxuryberzatto @liz-allyn

Something we need to talk about more is the fact that's its practically canon that Matt has a choking kink????In season 2 him and Electra are having sex and he grabs her throat???I feel like this should constantly be discussed because oh my god!!!

Matt Murdock seems like the type to run his thumb along your bottom lip before pushing it into your mouth and that’s the tea

Girl..Girl..GIRL. Namor...His huge hands.....My throat.....His mouth...Next to my ear.....calling me His whore WHILST PUSHING HIS HIPS DEEPER

pairing: namor x (f)reader

warnings: eighteen+ content, p in v, that ends poetically soft, dirty talk, choking, mentions of past roughsex, aka how can I have him say whore without actually saying whore, itzia means princess.

note: once again i 100% believe this man looks at dirty talk like a form of poetry, another art form for him to excel in!!

“Is mine the only one that can make you feel this way, itzia?” He grunts into your ear, half a smirk brushing against your lobe when he can feel the strangled noise you let out against his palm. “Do other men fuck you as good as I? Good enough to have you trembling against my chest and taking my cock like that’s all you were made to do?” His fingers loosen their hold against the column of your neck, the pants that concave your chest to rise and fall rapidly against his, an abundance of air reaching your lungs once again—not why he has moved his large palm.

He’s not interested in an answer to a question he already knows. A praise he can hear in your breaths and gasps and moans when you’re letting his given name harmonize from your lips like the sweetest melody he’s ever heard.

No, he’s only moving his hand so he can pull your legs further up his sides. So they’re now pushed just under his arms, angling you perfectly so he’s fucking you even deeper—slower. The drag of his cock torturing your insides worse than when he fucks you hard; palms reddening your ass, his spit running down your chin, grip at the back of your skull so tight you think you might pass out.

How he’s fucking you right now feels religious, worshiping. Like he’s praising you with his cock and then tearing you down with his words.

Like a god who makes his people suffer for the good. For the blessings bestowed upon them.

Except he is a god and the blessing he’s giving you is making your walls flutter around him, and nails dig into the muscles of his back.

“You’re mine, itzia. For eternity I will have you like this.” The pressure of his lips against yours feels like a hot brand on your soul.