#outercourse

Kakashi Hatake x Reader, SMUT. MDNI 18+ only. Ao3

6.8k words, kind of a shorter one but im trying to be more concise. also this one won the poll but the Higuruma fic and the Jiraiya fic will also be posted soon! thanks to everyone who voted and I hope you enjoy. tags: thigh fucking, biting, a lot of talking about smell, kakashi is tired and desperate and loves you so much.

Summary:

Ever since her creation, the flames follow Jeanne Alter everywhere; the sheer trauma of her experiences evoking pain from even the slightest of touches against her bare skin. Isolating herself from others as a result, her fantasies and manga serve as her main escape. Left frustrated and despondent from an unfortunate turn of events regarding her sparkling, holy alternate self, she seeks her favorite 'contradiction' out for a good old vent- Saber Alter. In which Jeanne Alter is touch starved, yet cannot stand being touched by others- so Saber Alter showcases to her the mighty wonders behind the vibrator!

look okay i know i’m horrible i’m sorry i got distracted by lesbians in bly manor and then i got sick

- - - - -

jaskier is... he is drunk.

extremely drunk.

geralt had watched him become drunk, for christ’s sake, he had sat in the corner of the tavern and watched as his little songbird flirted about the room, taking drinks when they were offered in passing and downing his own like they were bloody water, and yet he’s still surprised at just how drunk jaskier is.

jaskier is drunk to the point that he is swaying on his feet as geralt leads him upstairs, one hand firm on the small of his back so the bard doesn’t tip backward and crack his skull to pieces on the bottom stair. he is drunk to the point that, as geralt tells him to stay upright just long enough to make it to the door of their rented room, he brightens, and his eyes go lecherous. “oh, are you taking me to bed?”

bloody hell.

he’s horny drunk.

“i’m taking you to bed,” geralt says, slow and weary, as he unlocks the door and nudges jaskier inside, “for you to lie down and sleep.”

but jaskier seems to have heard exactly none of his words; in fact, as soon as geralt shuts the door, jaskier is upon him, practically tearing at his doublet in his efforts to get it open. geralt winces at the sharp sting of teeth on his jaw, catching the squirming little thing by the waist and holding him at bay.

“geralt,” jaskier is purring, and the witcher fights a sigh. “geralt, no, darling, come on, at least let me fuck you, you won’t even have to put in any effort - “

geralt gives in to the urge to sigh.

“no,” he repeats, and pushes jaskier back toward the bed. “no.”

jaskier groans as though he’s been wounded, and even though he lets geralt lay him down, he’s still squirming, splaying his legs some when geralt’s hand brushes down his frame. “come on, geralt, my wolf, please... let me have something...”

the witcher rolls his eyes as he pulls jaskier’s boots off and sets to work on his trousers, for he knows the bard will only complain tenfold if he awakens hungover to discover he’d slept in his finery. unfortunately, as geralt had known he would, jaskier takes this as permission.

scarcely has geralt tossed the trousers aside and moved up to start at jaskier’s doublet than jaskier has pounced, thighs coming to clench tight around geralt’s waist as his arms come to loop around his neck. “hello, my wolf,” he slurs, and geralt sighs.

“no,” he repeats, pushing jaskier’s legs away, doing what he thinks is an excellent job of ignoring the way the scent of arousal spikes at the show of strength. “you need to - “

“i need to get off,” jaskier insists, crass as always. “come on, geralt, all you have to do is lay there - “

“i’m not letting you fuck me,” geralt says for the eightieth time, though his resolve is weakening. jaskier is just so damn persistent, and, well... “... but i’ll let you use my thighs.”

jaskier pauses... and then immediately brightens. “you will?” he asks.

geralt tries not to regret it. he simply nods, clearing his throat and slipping lower on the bed so he could undo his trousers and kick them off, underclothes following soon after. “don’t get used to it,” he mutters.

with a brief prayer to melitele that this won’t backfire terribly, he lays down at jaskier’s side, back facing the bard. they’ve done this enough times that jaskier will know what to do, though usually it’s jaskier in his place. sure enough, only a moment of clothes rustling precedes jaskier’s hand, coming to rest on his hip. as jaskier noses his way into the nape of geralt’s neck, he shifts to lift his upper thigh enough for jaskier to press his way in close; he hears the bard spit into his palm, feels jaskier’s cock press into the gap between his thighs, slicked with saliva but nowhere near wet enough.

well, at least not for geralt’s tastes, but jaskier seems to have no qualms with it - even before geralt presses his legs back together, the bard is thrusting into the gap with a stifled groan, and geralt can feel precum wetting his skin. “this wired?” he teases in a low purr, reaching back to grasp jaskier’s hip. “such a whore...”

“quiet,” jaskier breathes against him, and geralt can only laugh. the bard is moving steadily now, having found what seems to be his perfect rhythm - hips rolling, grinding, thrusting, motions a little choppier than they would be if he was inside geralt properly. for geralt, it feels like nothing more than friction, a minor nuisance at worst, but it quite clearly is working -

otherwise, why would jaskier be making weak and punched-out noises, his hips jerking all the harder when geralt tenses his thighs to clench more tightly around his cock?

why else would jaskier all but keen when geralt rolls his hips back in kind to double the friction?

why else would jaskier last mere minutes before breaking, geralt’s thighs - already wet with precum - only becoming all the wetter with his seed?

“you always moan so prettily when you come,” geralt murmurs passively, stilling as jaskier does the same. his bard is gasping, and he hiccups once, evidently content to remain in this position, though he does drape his arm about geralt’s waist to hug him back closer. “better now, lark?”

“much,” jaskier slurs drowsily. “now quiet. bedtime.”

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Characters: Belle (Once Upon a Time), Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Additional Tags: Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Outercourse, A Monthly Rumbelling July 2021

Series: Part 35 of Monthly Rumbelling 2021

Summary: Rumple is making lunch on a hot summer day when Belle decides to be a little too distracting.

Written for July's Monthly Rumbelling

Home

While the rain was pattering gently against the kitchen’s window pane, Gold was standing at the counter, guiding a knife through peeled cucumbers. The gentle crack, swish, and tap of his movements mingled with the wet splatters outside in a way that was almost musical. Each sound lulled him into a state of meditation. Mind clear, his hands simply moved on their own, lifting and lowering the knife as he eased the cucumber along the cutting board.

The day was unusually warm for a summer in Maine and the moisture in the air only added to the sticky heat of the afternoon. The cucumber sandwiches would change all of that. Cool sweetness mixed with the sharpness of fresh mint would surely be the perfect little meal on a day like today. Adding the sweet tea poured over a tall stack of ice would simply make it perfect. Once the meal was served and the tea poured, he and Belle would have a delicious little breeze of a meal to cool them.