Bitcxhhhhh?!!!

bitcxhhhhh?!!!

Sukuna w long hair

“compulsion” - part 2 of PICK YOUR POISON - (a dads best friends love story)

first part here

pairing- (Shane x fem!reader)

warnings- nsfw, 18+, age gap, dads best friends, drinking, oral (r!recieving), fingering, jealous rick… 1.8k wc

You’d been a complete tease since that night in the garage. You knew it. They knew it. Apparently the only one who didn’t know it was your father. Such an oblivious man. Unable to see the way his friends undress you with their eyes anytime they get a glimpse of you. Or the way you purposely wear the shortest skirts you own whenever they’re around. And today was no exception. A neighbourhood barbecue that your parents are hosting. Mostly an attempt in upholding the outstanding community member facade they desperately cling to. And with all your fathers friends who were invited, you decide that for your own form of validation, to put on your shortest sundress. A pale yellow with a soft floral pattern, almost unnoticeable unless you were up close. It was so short that you have to pull the sides down anytime you get up from your seat.

“Where you goin’?” Rick asks as you tug on the skirt, heading for the door to your house. Your shoulder now a little cold without his arm wrapped around it. Something neither of your parents seemed to notice. Or if they did they certainly didn’t care. Too busy in conversation, welcoming some of the newest Alexandria recruits.

“Washroom.” You make a face at him. He seemed almost appalled that you’d be leaving his side. He probably was. Always trying to keep you close. Closest out of the three. And that was keeping him on edge. Trying to maintain your attention the most effectively, and keep it on the low. In fact, the secret was making him a little jumpy. The weeks of stolen kisses and touches catching up to him too. Very, very secret touches. Hiding what was becoming an exhilarating and extremely complicated relationship between three different guys, all old enough to be your father.

He watches your hips sway as you walk into the house, flashing him a cute smile before making your way down the hallway.

When the bathroom door opens, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Shane. With a flirty grin, your body moves quicker than your mind. Pushing the man back in as he tries to object, but you don’t let him. Pressing your lips to his and pulling him in by the back of his neck.

“What-”

“Mhpm.” You don’t even let him answer. Just continue kissing him all hot and needy, while you close the door behind you, pulling him close against you as you start to feel him relax. To accept that this was happening.

The entire day was torture. Each one of them very aware of your cries for attention, but not offering to do anything about them. When you tried to pull Rick upstairs to your bedroom he got all tight jawed and told you to cut it out. Pinching your ass as he led you towards the backyard. And Daryl, silently shook his head when you teased your fingernails up your thigh, lifting your skirt to show him the colour of the thong you were wearing. Ugh, they’re so boring. No fun at all.

It’s such a shame too. You want them so bad and they barely seem to acknowledge it. You woke up this morning all hot and needy, hand in your panties before your alarm even wrang. And seeing the men all perfect and groomed wasn’t helping. In their Sunday best button ups, with a spritz of cologne that made your head dizzy. It was intoxicating. The way you actually crave them. The way you feel like you need them. You’re already addicted and you’ve barely even had a taste.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m a virgin?” You ask Shane in between messy kisses, hands already tugging at his belt, more than hinting at the real reason you decided to trap him in the costal themed bathroom.

He laughs against your lips. He tastes like beer. And you like it. A lot.

“Absolutely not.” He leans back. Tone more serious now. “Are you?”

An amused huff escapes your lips as you rest your head against the bathroom door. “No. But I wish I were.”

You pull him in again, tongue tracing his bottom lip as you kiss him. “Wish it coulda been you who popped my cherry,” his hand is under your dress, rubbing you through your panties. “Who fucked me and corrupted me,” you continue against his lips, the softest moan escaping your throat at his touch.

But he pauses. Trying to catch his breath, still rubbing soft circles on your clit.

“Ain’t too late for that second one.”

He’s right. It’s not.

“Probably woulda been better then some 16 year old jock on prom night. What’d he last, 30 seconds? Bet he couldn’t even make you come, huh?” He asks, fingers finding their way into your panties now, spreading your arousal onto your clit, and dipping inside.

“No- “ you gasp at the intrusion. “Was- was my high school gym teacher. Cheated on his wife with me in the girls locker room during lunch hour.”

Shane couldn’t help the laugh that left his mouth at your confession. Vibrating against your own lips. And you smile because he’s amused. But you aren’t joking. And it’s really not that funny. Truly wasn’t your proudest moment.

“Now that, I believe.”

You’re done talking, so you pull his smile against your own and whimper into his mouth. His fingers already pumping slowly inside of you. Finding your sweet spot with ease. Making your bare toes curl against the cool tile.

From the moment you woke up, you’ve needed this. Needed to come. All over his fingers. His cock would be ideal, but he told you no already. They all came to an agreement. Daryl, Rick and him. Said it was “crossing a line” or some bullshit. As if finger fucking your best friends daughter while he’s flipping burgers on the back deck isn’t.

“Please, Shane- need you so bad-” you whine against his lips. Hips involuntarily bucking into his hand.

“Fuck, baby-” you know he’s trying to hold back.

“Just-uh,” he groans, dropping to his knees in front of you, pulling your panties down in one swift motion. Taking your right thigh and pulling it over his shoulder.

Your hands tangle in his hair at the feeling of his mouth on your cunt. His hands are under your dress, nails digging into your ass and pulling you even closer. The warm slickness of his tongue moving up and down on your clit. Pleasure swirls in your stomach and silent whimpers escape your swollen lips.

“Taste so fucking good-” he groans against you, bringing two fingers up and teasing your entrance. Leaking with arousal and spit. Absolutely begging to be filled. To be fucked.

“Ohmygod,” you moan, pressure building in your core as he curls his fingers. Sucking and lapping at your clit, like he just can’t get enough.

“Gonna come, Shane-” you tell him, hands tightening their grip on his dark locks. Your left leg is starting to tremble, and you’re climax is approaching much quicker then you were hoping. Thanks to his tongue replicating what you can only assume feels just like heaven.

And right when that tight, hot band in your core feels like it’s about to snap, you feel the wood behind you move, and hear the door handle rattle. Someone trying to use the bathroom that had thankfully been locked in between frenzied kisses and grabby hands.

“Occupied!” You squeak, eyes widening at the interruption. Your heart practically skipping a beat at the prospect of being caught.

You feel Shane’s movements halt to a stop, big, brown eyes looking up at you from between your legs.

“Shit. sorry, sweets.” You’re father’s deep voice carries through the door, and a cheeky grin forms on Shane’s handsome face. Once the footsteps retreat down the hall, he puts his index finger to his lips and shushes you. Be quiet, baby.

“Keep going-” your voice is hushed and shaky. Desperately unashamed to be begging for his mouth. His fingers. His nose, and how amazing it feels grinding against your pulsing clit. And wether he heard your pleas or not, he obliged.

You raise you hand to your mouth and bite down on the fleshy side of your palm, silencing the sounds you both know you can’t contain. And you’re close again in a moments time. Eyes rolling back and hips jutting forward. Muscles aching already.

Oh my god.

“Don’t stop, please, please, please-” you beg him for your orgasm. And he gives it to you. Coaxing it out of you with his mouth and his fingers. Feeling a warm wave of pleasure erupt from your cunt, going up your stomach and down your things. And you bite your lip trying not to moan but it feels way too good and you can’t help it.

Not that Shane minded.

“Fuck.” You whisper, core twitching as he pulls his sopping digits out of you. Looking you right in the eye as he kisses your clit, one last torturous time, before he takes your panties, pulls them back up and fixes your dress. He washes his hands as you catch your breath, still leaning against the door. Face flushed when you see him smirking at you through the mirror.

“Think you can behave the rest of the night?”

You nod eagerly, “Yes.”

“Good. Now go back out there and pretend you didn’t just come all over my fingers, alright? Have a drink, eat some food. Be a good girl for us.”

You left the bathroom before him, checking that the coast was clear before slipping outside and eyeing the open spot still next to Rick. He notices you immediately and holds up a red solo cup, cold condensation already dripping down the plastic.

“Made you a drink,” he hands it to you as you sit next to him, the side of your thigh flush with his, keeping him extra close. And before his arm can make its way back around your shoulder, his eyebrows pinch together in a confused scowl.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, inspecting your dopey expression.

“Hm?” You look at him as innocently. Clearly still little dazed from your trip to the washroom.

Rick’s face twitches when he notices. Your thighs are actually trembling. Already sore from keeping yourself standing on one foot, while coming hard on another man’s face only moments earlier.

Rick’s palm flattens on your thigh, pushing it into the seat and halting it’s shakiness.

“Really?”

“What?” You ask, voice sweet as honey.

“You know what.”

“I- I tried to take you upstairs n’ you got all grumpy-” you stutter, trying to defend your sinful actions.

“I said later.”

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out. And you’re a little surprised to feel a jolt between your legs at his jealousy. How hot it is that he’s a little mad. A little… possessive.

“M’ sorry,” you whisper in his ear, tucking yourself in closer to his side, sipping the drink he made you. “Can make it up to you. Promise.”

He rolls his eyes. Annoyed and jealous and irritated that it wasn’t him who had his way with you in the bathroom, so well that it made your legs shake. But regardless of his hostility, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in against his warm body. And you notice that his grip tightens when Shane walks by, giving you a charming smile and a flirty nod.

Annoyed and defeated, Rick sighs and leans in. Close enough that his lips brush your ear.

“Alright. Upstairs. Now.”

part 3

-

(Daryl’s part will be next… hope you all enjoyed💗)

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck

Yk that thing where sometimes during a core workout you can actually cum because of the muscle stimulation??

Im imagining that but with gymrat!Abby who was probably so concentrated on her reps that she didn’t even notice it until it happened, just these little sparks of pleasure and sensitivity in her abdomen that made her shudder and gasp and try not to moan out loud. And rather than picking up where she left off (when she’s certainly still too sensitive to continue), she instead comes home to make you fuck a proper one out of her. There wouldn’t even be enough time to take off your clothes before she throws you on the couch and starts fucking herself against you.

But because of what happened at the gym she’d be so fucking sensitive and shaky, every touch making her let out broken up moans as she’d buck her hips into yours, making a sticky mess between her legs. And even after she’d already cum, you’d still feel her grinding her hips hard against yours while shivering from the overstimulation, until her kisses and sucks turn sloppy, until her pants and moans turn into whines and pleads, until that little damp patch turns into her shorts being entirely drenched. She’d probably try to play it off later and say it was from how wet she was, but you’d know the truth - that Abby was so fucking sensitive that she came in her pants. All from a little workout.

Ride, Cowgirl.

pairing: dbf!southern!frank castle x afab!reader

summary: neither of you can keep last night off your mind, needing more Frank finds comfort in your room.

warnings: age gap (reader is 22, frank is 52), use of pet names, dirty dirty thoughts!!!, mention of a divorced dad?, fingering, sex!!, praise kink asf, oral (f receiving), soft frank, reader calls him frankie accidentally, frank making noise in bed, riding like a cowgirl!!, bearded frank <3, no mentions of y/n, no descriptions of reader, not proofread

word count: 3514 words

author’s note: I’m in love with darlin’ and frank, they are simply the lomls currently. anyway, the end gives the perfect set up for a third part if it is desired!! In the meantime, it’s 1;30 am for me and I need sleep!! please enjoy &lt;3

read the first part cowgirl ! and the next part cowboy hats !

Boyfriend by COIN played on the speaker your dad, conveniently, left outside as you laid on one of the pool loungers.  Thoughts of Frank consuming your mind, thoughts of his hands and his voice and the way he smelled and how he looked pain that he couldn’t fuck you in the backseat of his truck. Your fingers finding themselves rubbing the side of your neck, the very spot Frank had found comfort. 

“So how did last night go?” Tiff asked, hanging over the side of the pool to look at you. Your heart raced, did she find out? How would she? Did you accidentally call her when you were panting his name like it was the only word you knew? The way you froze as she asked a simple question, immediately made her suspicious of you.

“Huh?” You asked, in hopes of getting her to elaborate just a bit so you could come up with the lie of your life. Or maybe, you should confide in her. She is your girl for life, it’s not like she’s gonna judge you for doing it. If anything, she’d praise you and beg for details.

“After I left? How did the rest of the night go? Your dad doesn’t have the most interesting friends on the planet. All they talk about is work and their lack of wives.” She rolled her eyes, laying her head on her hands and kicking her legs in the water. 

“Actually…” You smiled, bringing your knees up to your chest to hide behind them as the blush spread across your body.

“Oh. My. God. Hold on!” She rushed to climb out of the pool, dripping water all over you as she sat on the opposite end of the lounger. If gossiping was a team sport, the two of you would have ten gold medals, if anyone asked you weren’t necessarily talking shit but simply saying how you felt about people.

“So, after you left, Frank and I went to the gas station and I asked if he had been with anyone younger. I don’t know what got into me, Tiff! He just looked so…godly. I wanted to jump his bones the second I came downstairs from changing.” You covered your face with your hands and groaned, the blush was probably becoming permanent at this point. You were going to be bright red for the rest of your life.

“Your dad’s best friend?! Holy shit dude. C’mon spill!” She laughed, prying the hands off your face and sitting expectantly. You were beyond grateful for the fact she wasn’t judging you and was actually interested. Maybe that was a bad thing, you didn’t care.

“Anyway, he said ‘Not yet’ and I was in shock or something! So, I reached over and kinda did a weird caress thing to his beard. I was flyin’ by the seat of my swimsuit, I’ve never been with a man who has any sort of facial hair. But he kissed me, and I mean like Really kissed me.i’ve never been kissed like that before, Tiff. Mind blowing.” Unbeknownst to you, the very man you were speaking about had walked out the back door and could hear the whole conversation. His chest swelled with pride, in some fucked up way he was glad no one had ever kissed you like that. It meant there was a lot more he could do way better than any of the other people you’d been with, and he’d be damned if he didn’t ruin you for any other man out there.

“Your dad is about to come out here, suggest you find somethin’ else to talk ‘bout.” He hollered at the two of you, your head whipping around so fast it was a miracle you didn’t give yourself whiplash, chuckling at the way your eyes widened when you realized he had heard you talking about him. “Quit speakin’ so damn loud anyway, sure the whole neighborhood heard.”

Frank didn’t truly mean what he said, he would love to listen to you retell the story of your escapades, what he didn’t want was your father to hear and put two and two together. He didn’t need to get into some shitty mess with the one constant in his life, he owed more to your dad than he cared to admit and ruining that friendship would send Frank to an early grave. That in no way meant he regretted what he did last night, and everything else he planned to do. He simply wanted to go about all this in a way that wouldn’t cost him his friendship but still gives him his girl, gives him you. He prayed for the first time last night, and he really truly prayed, for a situation where it all works out and he’s not back to square one. With nobody. Again. 

“Thanks for the warning, Mr. Castle.” Tiff shouted back, a smug smile playing on her face, giving him a small wave. She nudged your shoulders, giggling at the whole situation. All you wanted to do was shrink and disappear, you couldn’t be more embarrassed. You felt small and helpless, your best friend thought it was hilarious. God if you can hear me, please kill me.

You spent the whole morning thinking about him and the consequence of what you did, how would your next interaction go? Would it be weird? Would he pretend it never happened, that he wasn’t dying to have you right then and there. Yet, here you were no true interaction but you were the one cowering away from it. You were the one trying to pretend like it didn’t happen, when truthfully you wanted to shout it from the rooftops and let everyone know who had given you the best orgasm of your life.

“I’m going to shrink to the size of ant and drown myself in the fuckin’ pool, Tiff. I swear to god.” You slouched as far down in the lounger as you could, squeezing your eyes closed in some desperate attempt to make it all disappear. “Of course he would be here right now.”

“Ants don’t have lungs, they can’t technically drown. Besides, it’s not like he came out here and murdered you, all he did was tell you to be quieter. He also made no indication or mention of last night, so stop lettin’ that pretty head of yours go wild.” Tiff rubbed her hand soothing up and down your arm, she knew better than anyone the way your mind would take someone breathing at you and interpret it as they hate you and want you dead. That’s why she worked so well with you, the sane and grounded to your wild and anxious. 

“I don’t think it would matter even if he did, the principle of it all is what’s causing my worries. Do you think worry dolls are still a thing? I could most definitely use one right now.” A groan once again left your mouth, your eyes opening and searching for the older man who was carrying planks of wood across your backyard. Your father walked out of the house, giving you and Tiff a wave before hollering at Frank about whatever they were building.

The whispers and giggles coming from the two of you were intriguing Frank, he wanted to know exactly what you were telling her and what you were intentionally leaving out. He wanted to know if you were even talking about him, or if she was telling you the real reason that I just left abruptly last night. Because he knew, he wouldn’t say anything to you about it unless you brought it up first, but he knew. The work in front of him was becoming increasingly less interesting, he was so close to telling your dad to throw in the towel and call it a day. He didn’t even know what he was building anymore, he truthfully didn’t care but your dad did. That was enough for him to keep going.

“Those two have been out all day, shockin’ they’re not burnt or nothin’.” Your dad commented, planting his shovel in the ground and leaning against it. He smiled your way, not that you noticed as you were preoccupied with Tiff. You were his pride and joy, his baby. He’d murder anyone for you, it was a part of the reason you never brought anyone home. 

“‘M not shocked. Last summer, I’m not sure either one of em spent any more than twenty minutes inside. Make sure she- they wear sunscreen, don’t need em getting skin cancer.” Frank was quick to correct himself, not that your dad would’ve found anything wrong with his original statement but he was covering all his bases. Not that he didn’t care for the other girl, Tiff was her name? He didn’t need to know her name, not when he knew yours. 

“I’ll make sure to pick some up from the store the next time we make it to the grocery, I know my girl wears some. Not sure ‘bout her friend.” His girl. The words made Frank irrationally angry, you were his daughter but the thought of someone else staking claim over you drove him mad. One night with you and he was acting, and thinking, like you were his wife. Wife. No.

Frank had met your father when you were nineteen, hadn’t met you until you were twenty. It wasn’t like he was truly doing anything wrong but he was going to fight a never ending mental battle about you. Going through every hoop to tell himself neither of you was doing anything wrong, that you weren’t going to be in trouble for your actions. That it was, simply, okay.

The sun was setting, the breeze taking over and raising the hair on your skin. You truly had been outside all day, with sunscreen reapplied every hour or so, you were bound to find a few sunburnt spots in your shower. You exchanged goodbyes with Tiff and made your way to your room to start the nightly routine you had adopted since being home, switching the bluetooth from the speaker outside to the one inside your room. You opened the window, your music slowly starting to dance with the breeze, when a soft knock on your door grabbed your attention.

“Hey cowgirl.” Frank whispered, just barely loud enough to be heard over your music, making his way into your room and studying it. Committing all the bits and pieces of it to his memory.

“I’m so sorry about earlier, if you don’t want me to tell Tiff anymore I won’t. I just, I tell her everything and I needed to tell someone.” Your cheeks slowly started turning pink, Frank thought you were cute like that.

“Don’t apologize, darlin’. I didn’t care, just warnin’ ya ‘bout your dad is all.” He walked closer to you, his height very apparent, your head the perfect height for his chest. He brought a finger up to your cheek, dragging it down before tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“I appreciate it, I know how much he means to you.” No you didn’t. He knew you knew a small bit not enough to truly understand what the two of you meant to him. He would be forever indebted to your father if it meant keeping you, if it meant holding you and kissing you. Consuming himself with you.

“So pretty.” He truly whispered, admiring every inch of your face, leaning down to kiss you. Your heart stopped, he didn’t regret it? He thought you were pretty?

You decided to stop fucking thinking for once and enjoy it, leaning up to meet him halfway in the kiss. Threading your fingers through his hair, much like he did with yours in his truck. One his hands held the side of your face while the other tucked itself into the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms, rubbing at the indentation it left from being worn all day. 

“Ready to ride, cowgirl?” He asked, pulling away from the kiss enough to nip at your jaw as he waited for an answer. He wouldn’t be mad if you said no, he would be patient and wait until you were, but he went home and fucked his hand like a horny teenage boy at the thought of you on top of him.

A whimper is all you managed to respond with, your mind momentarily thinking about your dad but was interrupted by the softness of your mattress touching your back. 

“Goddamn swimsuits, prancing around in practically nothing.” He remarked, still standing as he eyed your body. His finger snapped the strap of your bottoms, smirking at the sound before he dragged them down your legs. 

“What’s your favorite color?” You asked softly, making him burst into laughter. 

“For what?” He responded, controlling his laughter at the fact you would ask that right now. 

“So I can wear one that color the next time you’re over.” You smiled, looking up at him. Somehow he looked even prettier from this angle, if that was possible. 

“Uh, probably red.” He gave a bit of thought before responding, curious to know if you would actually be wearing a bikini the next time you saw him. At your house, anyway. 

He stashed the bikini bottoms in his back pocket, pulling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles and getting down on his knees. Frank thanked all the heavens and the stars for the meal he was about to eat right before licking a stripe through your folds and sucking on your clit. The stimulation instinctively caused your thighs to close, causing him to force them back open and lay one arm across a leg with his hand splayed across your stomach.

He moaned.

He moaned.

Frank moaned, was he enjoying this as much as you were? Were there any downsides or faults to this man? 

He moved his mouth closer to your clit, paying almost all his attention to it as he inserted his middle finger slowly. A wanton moan making its way to his ears, he thought everything about you was pretty. If he wasn’t rock hard when he took your bottoms off, he definitely was now. The stretch in his jeans was not entirely comfortable, it truthfully wouldn’t be able to accommodate much more. 

“Frank, Frankie, please..” 

Did you just- did he imagine that? He’d never had anyone call him that before, but it sounded so damn good coming from your lips.

“What, pretty girl? Use your words for me. Tell Frankie what you need.” 

“‘M so close, please need more.” You whined, to him it even sounded a bit like you were going to cry. He’s bet his life savings you were a pretty crier, a pretty anything. He just wanted to look at you. Always.

All he wanted to do was pull out his phone and record the pleas and the moans coming from you, to listen to later if you were ever ripped from him and he didn’t get to experience this, experience you, ever again. If it weren’t for your fucking music. He was thankful for it, blocking your sounds from anyone in the house. He added his ring finger into the mix, relishing in the sound you made. You were his drug, he truly was addicted. He needed his next fix before this one was over. 

Moments after he sped up his fingers and added more pressure to your clit, your orgasm ripped through you. Body shaking, eyes rolling back. This was better than the one he gave you last night. You’d never be able to touch yourself ever again, not the way he did. You didn’t think anyone could ever compare now that Frank had touched you. 

By the time you came to, he had discarded his clothes and was on top of you. He pulled you into a kiss, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip and groaning into your mouth when you let him in. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth while his fingers explored every inch of your body. 

“I don’t have a condom.” He confessed.

“Don’t care, on the pill. Frankie please, I need you inside of me right now. Need your cock, frankie..please.” The sound of you begging for him had his ego going through the roof, the fact that anyone could want or need him this bad was mind blowing. 

He rubbed his cock through your folds, kissing you a bit more before he pushed the tip in. Your mouth opening in a gasp. You knew he was big, you saw the imprint in the truck yesterday. But this was different, the stretch hurt in a delicious way that you needed more of. He waited a moment before pushing in a bit more, toying with your clit and peppering your face with kisses to distract you.

He bottomed out, you had never felt so full in your life. You swore he was in your stomach, taking rearranging your guts to a new level. He stayed still, letting you get used to his size. He didn’t want to hurt you, too much.

“Frankie move.” 

Your wish was his command. His thrusts started slowly, building up in speed as he went. It was at this point, you realized Frank Castle was not quiet in bed. He wasn’t necessarily loud either, but he was groaning in your ear. The grunts and the groans were spurring you on, your moans and whimpers were doing the same for it. It was a cycle, and if either of you had your way it would never end. 

“Sound so damn pretty. Makin’ all these noises for me, huh? My pretty girl, my girl.” He put all his weight on his forearms, lifting himself enough to look you in the eyes, his hair falling out of place and onto your face. He was gorgeous, especially like this. Raw. Vulnerable. Just for you. 

“Your girl, yours.” You babbled, too busy reeling in the feeling of his cock driving in and out of you. How his bare skin feels on yours. His voice praising you. Calling you pretty. 

“That’s right, such a good girl.” His praises continued, some of them too muffled for you to hear as he sucked on your collarbone. Or your neck. Any exposed skin he could get in his mouth. 

Without pulling out, he flipped the two of you over so you were on top. Riding him. Cowgirl. 

“C’mon cowgirl, ride me. You can do it baby.” He lifted your hips up and placed them back down to get you started, placing your hands on his chest for you.  He slipped one of your boobs out of the top, you were still wearing, and put your nipple in his mouth. Rolling the bud between his teeth, enjoying the new sounds he managed to get.

You placed your weight on your hands, positioning your legs right, and lifted back up. He was somehow even deeper than before, it was almost overwhelming. His pelvic bone was hitting your clit just right every time you came down, accompanied by his groans, you were a goner. You fell into his chest as you felt your second orgasm start to rip through you, your words slurred as you told him to use you. You were his to use. 

Frank had been close since he put you on top, his self control had been wearing a bit thin. He fucked you through your orgasm, pistioning up inside you like his life depended on it. 

“Where do you want it, c’mon baby where?” He grunted, gritting his teeth as he tried to hold his release off. It was getting increasingly harder when your cunt was gripping him like that.

“Inside.” Is all you muttered out, half aware of your choice. You’d deal with it later. 

Not a moment later he painted your inside white, cummimg with a low and long groan. Relaxing his head completely against your pillows, taking deep breaths. You crumpled against his chest, just resting for a moment as he was still inside you. This was the most relaxed you’d been in ages, at some point you drifted off to sleep. 

You were awoken by the feeling of Frank cleaning you up and putting a blanket on top of you, obviously you knew he couldn’t stay. It still hurt. It hurt your heart, your soul, your everything. 

“Gotta go, pretty girl. I put my number in your phone. We’ll talk later.” His last sentence meant more than just texting you, you both knew it. At some point, lines had to be drawn or you had to fess up to your dad. But for now you’d live in delusion, in a world where you were in an established relationship and no one thought anything of it. He placed a kiss on your forehead, finished getting dressed and got up to leave. Stopping at the door he turned around to give you one last glance, you had already fallen back asleep. His cowgirl.

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

Sevika is unbelievably protective and possessive over her girlfriend. Not at all unheard of for her girl to be sitting perched on her lap during Sevika's usual card games in the back of The Last Drop. Everyone in the bar gives her SO a wide berth because they know one wrong look could get their shit rocked.

She takes that protectiveness very seriously, because if she gets tapped on the shoulder with one whisper in her ear about someone bothering her girl, she will pause her own card game to deal with whomever had the fucking nerve.

Sevika's arm wrapped your waist instinctively as you approached. You shimmied, inching closer to soak up her warmth and protectiveness. No eyes 'round the table paid you any mind, and if they had, you were sure you'd have called it a night right then and there.

You leaned in, rested your palm on her muscled thigh. Focused as she was on the game, she still canted her head to lend you her ear.

A quick gripe and complaint, one that tightened her brows and tightened your clammy hand on her thigh.

"Who?" she said.

You repeated with detail that could rival a facial composite. She slapped her cards on the playing table—a move that directed all eyes at her—and scooted you back three inches to rise to her full height.

She signaled the table to continue playing, but her attention was fully focused on you.

Only you.

"Point 'em out to me."