I don’t know what took over me last night. All my family members were awake leaving me no scope to sleep with their chatters sounding around the entire house, and I felt this drive inside me to write you guys something that I myself need often.
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Pair: Johnny x Reader
POV: First person
It was as if spreading me wide was his hobby, because he always seemed to take great pleasure in it. I would catch the glint in his eyes as they would drink in my rawness before him, enamoured by reluctance and shyness that became clearer every time my heart thumped loudly against my chest.
I would close my eyes and my chest would arch as a sigh reverberated in my throat every time I felt his finger stealthily run across my slit. I knew the moisture between my legs would always excite his cock, and if I was lucky I’d get to witness it myself. But mostly, I was left to imagine it behind my closed eyelids as the tension from his touch spread throughout my entire body in form of goosebumps. He’d get my eyes shut tight with his actions every time, and I hated how much I loved it.
It was as if time could stop whenever his digits brushed against my walls, because I could feel nothing around me. In the stillness of my own realm, I would quiver as two of his long and sleek fingers drove inside me, his knuckles meeting the skin of my inner thigh and even though that contact was the least sexual, it still set my body on fire.
His face would be on the valley between my breasts to nuzzle again, those breasts he loved, and worshipped, and cherished. During hugs, I often pulled his head and softly set him against my chest every time he was going through a hard time. I, a reluctant lover, would always fail to remain quiet by the time the tip of his tongue slyly travelled to my nub. I’d feel his plump, needy lips curl slightly against the softer skin around my taut nipples, inwardly rejoicing his victory.
His hands would run down my sides and land on my hips and he’d bruise me there, knowing that I was a sucker for that. His rough yet warm hands would find bliss against my soft and colder skin. As the wet appendage inside his mouth would circle my nipple and suck on it with great attention, I’d feel my head in the clouds and my eyes watering in unspeakable pleasure.
After what would seem like eternity of him tending to my breasts, he’d fondle them a little more before kissing down further. His mouth would ghost over my heat, by then dripping and wanton, and he’d wait till my seemingly unenthusiastic hands flew to clutch onto his hair and gently push him closer to my south. Then, he’d do so delightfully before commenting about how beautiful I looked from down there or how delectable I smelled.
Not long after I’d come all over his face, because he always ate me out so well. His lips always sucked well on my clitoris, the tip of his tongue knew how to tease my entrance and the skin that came before, and he’d also generously lap his tongue and give it a lasting lick. He’d smilingly let me spray his grin because I’d let him graciously and gracefully spray my walls as well. He knew I didn’t like my own release so he would wipe his face and lick his lips clean, before coming up to kiss me.
“Johnny…” I’d whimper after the kiss that usually left me breathless, my hands by then roaming his back, nailing his chest, groping his ass.
After that, he would put his cock inside me. To me it was thick and big, to me it filled me up more than any other cock ever could. Its warmness, in contrast to the rest of his body, would make me feel at home. I’d shudder when he’d finally push his entire length successfully in my heat, my arms slithering around his body and my eyes delving into his. His eyes would study my flushed face, my parted lips, and my wanton breaths shortened by anticipation; before he’d pull out fully to slam back in. The heated friction would have my eyes rolling as throaty moans escaped my mouth every time. His lips would often land on my chin as my crown would rather rest on the pillow rather than the back of my head, since my entire body would arch up to his as he generally thrust pleasure in my system.
Before long, he’d approach his high, making sure his thumb drove against my sensitive and prominent clitoris to ensure I could no longer feel my legs later.
I’d somehow come again before him, shame making my wails cower. He’d come inside me shortly after, and still pump with vigour as if we were making love for the fifth or sixth time ever, while the feeling was still new and yet addictive. His hips would snap against mine until he wasn’t squirting anymore of his juices, before collapsing on my exhausted body. Sweaty and warm, I would feel the comfort that almost immediately relinquished his weight that crushed me to an extent. My hands would gingerly wrap around his chest as I’d bury my face in the crook of his neck. Before long, he’d move to his side and pull me in his arms, caging me in the warmth I had been friends with for long then.
“Do we have sex or do we make love?” I asked one night as my fingers ran across his bare back, our heaving chests in perfect rhythm against each other.
Cold air hit my neck as he lifted his face to mine, “Don’t we always make love?”
“Do we?” I prodded on the man’s poor heart which always loved me and made sure my heart was brimming with it.
He smiled softly as he tucked my hair behind my ears, “I guess we have to make love soon again to make you realise that we aren’t just having sex.”
“… why not?” I tried to flash a confident grin, but I am sure he had caught the blush tinging my cheeks and the coyness in my eyes.