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Delay, turn on and afterwards for soap please! 🖤

delay — do they like having their orgasm delayed/denied? do they like delaying/denying their partner(s)' orgasm?

Johnny loves both having his orgasm delayed and doing the same to his partner. When it comes to himself, if you take the lead and deny him the chance to finish, especially because he’s been giving you attitude, it drives him wild. If you ask him to finish himself off, he’ll do it but you better believe he’ll come after you, pinning you against every available surface until you’re spent.

For him, it’s less about power play and more about what led up to it. He’ll delay your orgasm too, especially if you made him jealous, stopping right when you’re on the edge and asking if that other guy could make you feel this way. He’ll wait for a clear answer and tease you, saying maybe he shouldn’t let you come at all until you learn your lesson.

turn on — what turns them on?

Everything turns Johnny on, tbh. He's always ready to go. But there's something about the way you sleep so peacefully, your face soft and innocent, lost in some dreamland while he’s next to you, so hard it hurts. With your back against him, your ass pressed against his bulge, he has to resist either sneaking off to jerk off in the bathroom or waking you up by eating you out. He’s obsessed with hearing your sleepy voice grow deeper, your eyes barely open, your body reacting to his every touch as you wake up, still half in a dream.

afterwards — what kind(s) of aftercare do they like being given? do they like giving their partner aftercare? do they fall asleep quickly after sex?

When it comes to it, he is more on the lazy side. He won’t jump up to grab a cloth or a glass of water, instead, he prefers to hold you close, asking if you’re okay and just basking in the mix of your natural scents and fluids. He’s filthy like that, finding it both erotic and intimate and he doesn’t want you to clean up until morning. Though if you need something, he’ll definitely get it for you so all you have to do is ask.

As for himself, all he wants is for you to stay close, caress his hair, give him soft, lazy kisses and whisper sweet nothings until he falls asleep.

simon riley who fucks you as tears roll down your face because you're on your period and your cramps are hurting too much.

he came home to see his lovie writhing on the couch, flushed features contorted with discomfort and your hand clutching your stomach. he frowned, his keys dropping with a klink into the ceramic bowl by the front door. he knew the pain that plagued you, he was no stranger to it. he just wants to make his lovie feel better, he doesn't care about the mess; he's dealt with worse, he claimed.

"nothin' i can't 'andle," his tone was heavy with affection and reassurance as he tugged at the waistband of your shorts—hidden under the baggy shirt you wore that belonged to him.

he stuffed a towel he fetched from the laundry basket by the couch under your hips per your request. he knew you'd feel guilty for leaving a mess—even if he couldn't care less. he just wanted you to forget your worries, only thing he wanted you to think about was how good his cock felt sinking deeper into your aching cunt.

the relief that slowly took over your body as you painted his cock red, not even reaching the base. he doesn't force himself all the way in, he doesn't need to to make you feel good enough to come on his thick cock.

fingers digging into the fatty flesh of your hips as he rocks his hips into your sopping, sensitive pussy. there there, lovie, he's gonna make you feel better. no need to feel embarrassed, it's natural, lovie. let him take care of you. he's got you now, he's here.

his pace is restrained, taking gentle care of your aching muscles with the roll of his hips. his abs taut with every slow and deliberate thrust while his other hand rubs the tender flesh of your lower stomach. the warmth from his rough, calloused palm unknotting the tension in your tissue, eliciting another hiccuped moan from your pink, swollen lips. your soft sobs of ached pain turning into breathless sighs and whimpers, occasionally interrupted by a soft jolt of a hiccup. don't cry anymore, lovie, he doesn't like to see you upset.

he found it endearing as he kissed the stray tears away, the saltiness soaking into the fabric of his mask that he hadn't had the chance to pull off just yet. he quietly shushes you, his breath warm against your ear before his head fell to your shoulder. the somewhat scratchy material of his mask itching against your skin before he reaches to pull it above his nose so he can press chapped kisses to your paled skin.

a thrill flutters through his body when he kisses your pulse, feeling the racing heartbeat through the pink flesh of his lips. a low hum slips out from the back of his throat, the sound vibrating through your skin.

"tha's it, lovie," he cooes into your hair, inhaling the faded scent of your shampoo. his hips pressed further against yours as his cock buries deeper into your cunt, nearly kissing your cervix. the mewl that escaped from your lips loud in his ear as he eases himself deeper. he can feel your gummy walls desperately clenching around him, "good girl, lemme take care of ya."

that's it, lovie, you're doing so good, letting him take care of you. his hand presses down on your lower abdomen like your own personal heating pad. his hand is large enough to seem like one.

everything seems to muddle together—the feeling of his cock driving into you and feeling like it's splitting you in two, despite his gentle approach and only fitting just over half his length into your weeping pussy. the feeling of his calloused fingers digging into the fat of your hips, the skin turning white under the pads of his fingertips. the feeling of his warm palm against your lower tummy, rubbing circles along the skin with his thumb occasionally slipping down to lovingly caress your sensitive clit. the feeling of his cracked lips on your delicate skin to further coax you to an orgasm.

he can hear the way your moans change, the way you clench and tighten around him in a desperate attempt to chase the oncoming high he's giving. he doesn't change his pace—he slows down.

his hips slowly drag out of your cunt, driving back in with the same, newly slowed and agonizing pace that leaves you whining. the knot in your tummy building further as you squirm under him. it builds, and builds. his breath heavily against your skin, only being pulled tighter as your arms wrap around his neck in attempts to make him move, but he doesn't.

instead his thumb finds your clit again, toying with your sensitive bud with a pinch as your hips buck under his hand. you can hear the breathless chuckle in your ear. he's not trying to tease you, lovie, he just wants to drag out the pleasure! be patient, lovie, you'll get what you want. he promises.

"good girl, takin' it so well." he praises endlessly, cradling your small, tense body under his relaxed, toned one, "gonna make y'feel all better."

arms wrapped around him like a vice with the feeling of premature waves across your body as the knot gets tighter in your lower tummy. mumbling incoherent whines and pleads in his ear as you're one push from falling. just let him push you over the edge, lovie, come on. enjoy it.

the sound of his name on your lips cuts through the mostly silent air, he feels the shudder of your body under his mass. fuck, just like that, lovie, take what you need. he rides it out, his hips rocking slowly to prolong the ecstasy.

"shh, lovie, v'got ya," his voice heavy against your skin, muffled into your neck as his breaths come out labored.

you're all better now, lovie, you did so good.

Hear me out! ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ

Pirate!Gaz and Siren!reader ⊂⁠(⁠◉⁠‿⁠◉⁠)⁠つ

That's all I had to say

#needSomeoneTowriteAboutThis

#THELIZARDINMYBRAINISBITING

#MOREGAZCONTENT

#GazzyBoo

I'm finding this so late but it was amazing

Adrian Raines Wedding Headcanons

- The night the two of you got engaged, it was full of nothing but bliss and happiness, sinking into each other’s arms in peaceful contentment and hope for the future.

- The next night was filled with phone calls and endless binders of color swatches and floral arrangements.

- The thing about a billionaire’s wedding in Manhattan was that everyone wanted to come. The invite list ballooned from a private fifty to one hundred, then two hundred, then to three. You made sure to cut it off after that, lest it grow to four or five.

- You and Adrian chose a rolling estate just outside New York, a palatial country home made of clean white stone and wreathed in green gardens and ivy and snowy white pavilions. At the night of your wedding, the entire place would be

Keep reading

🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣 lawd have merthy 👉({ô})👈

Soap likes it real nasty.

TW// Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x female!reader, sexual content, crass language

And the problem is, you're a fucking liar.

That's what you get for leading him on, for feeding him late night fantasies through calls and texts. Sold him dreams that you're a real freak that no man could ever handle. That you fucked real nasty. No two-bit chump's gonna ever please this pussy from a goddess, that Johnny Boy, you should be grateful for the crumbs I'm giving you.

He tells you that he's going to lay it down. Once he gets his hands on you, it's over, and girl, you're going to need to visit the salon to fix your soon-to-be rat's nest and lashes. Buy some motherfucking chapstick, because pray to God your lips won't be too chapped when he's done with you, when his cock's done with you. And by the advertisements you're posting, he won't be done with you for a good while.

Don't go showing that pussy off to some other bastard, Hen. This deployment's going by quicker than you think.

It's madness. You're too greedy, too delusional. What the hell were you even doing? How did this farce even come to be? You, some boring chick that can't even maintain eye contact with people, much less a man, was some primetime slag that had numbers on numbers in her phone? Yeah, you were definitely up partying every night, collecting men like Pokemon cards, and totally not living life in dull monotony. The most exciting thing in your week is ordering takeaway; and yet, you somehow had some crazy military guy feeding your sick need for validation. To indulge that repressed sexual itch you found difficult to ever expose. One text from the wrong number, and it all spiraled from there, and you couldn't stop.

I'm going to fuck you real hard. You hear me? I'm going to fuck. You.

He had to tell you more. He needed to.

I'm going fuck your throat raw. Play with those tits. And you're going to sit on my fucking face and squirt all over. Want to drink it all up.

Oh, God. OhGodOhGodOhGod.

You’re sure he does it on purpose; lets you hear the clink of his belt buckle, the coarse way he spits on his hand, lets his breath labor more dramatically than if he was alone. Urges you to let him hear you, too. Wants to hear the soft rustle of your panties sliding down your legs, and what color and cut were they? Let him know when you're going to start playing with your nipples, because God damn it all if he wasn't begging to suck and lave all over them. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if you sent him a few pictures; spice things up more than things were.

Like every time, release on both of your ends comes through as harsh pants through the phone. You don't ever turn on caller ID, and you always hang up first.

And he always texts immediately after. Always. Texts you to send a pic of you opening your mouth, sticking that tongue out, for what purpose, he'll never say. You invariably ignore the request; told him he could do better, that he's just some random run of the mill man, and you were a stranger more than happy to string him along. Soap only sees it as a challenge. And that was the problem.

You'd better make good on that promise, Bonnie. Because when I'm back, don't be too surprised when you see me at your doorstep.

(And he does make good on his promise, because he's not a fucking liar. He told you to not be surprised, but here you were wailing into the high heavens, scratching up his back, eyes rolled back as he rearranged your guts. Talked real big, as if you had any game, but he rendered you unable to say anything but his real name. Made sure the neighbors had a show. In the kitchen, on the bed, taken roughly in the tub, made your couch fucking unsalvageable. Got that cunt completely numb, and he laughed sardonically into your ear while he played with your ass.

Liar, liar, pussy on fire.

Should've never played with the telephone wire.)

I won't be ashamed about what I like 😤🫶🫶

Such a slut for golden retriever butches who are all sweet, affectionate but turn into downright sadistic doms in bed. I want to be taken out spoiled and babied then turn around have them tie me up and fuck me to the point of having no coherent thought