#EXCEPT ITS NOT THAT GENTLE ANY FUCKING MORE
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IF I HAD A NICKEL
FOR EVERY TIME A CRIED OVER MIDDLE AGED GAY MEN WHO NEED TO FUCKING TALK
ID HAVE TWO. FUCKING. NICKELS.
#which isnt alot but its weird that it happened twice#ofmd#ofmd2#ofmd spoilers#gentlebeard#EXCEPT ITS NOT THAT GENTLE ANY FUCKING MORE#blackbonnet#good omens#go2#ineffable husbands#aziracrow
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Fuck Me, Fill Me
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader | W/C: ~4K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Summary: Accidents happen all the time — people fall, knives slip, condoms break. You spent years successfully avoiding one. Except things are different now, you're ready for more. Your husband Joel is more than happy to oblige.
Warnings: Joel has one mission in this one -- knock you the fuck up (if that's not your thing, kindly move on). Heavy on the breeding kink. No age gap is mentioned (make it your own). So much dirty talk. Fingering. Dry humping/grinding. Praise kink. Size kink. Unprotected P in V. Rough sex. Semi-public sex. Sex in front of a mirror. Multiple creampies. No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions except hair (no type or color) long enough to hold on to. Let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: I have no excuses for this one except that I have Joel brain rot and baby fever. Shoutout to the Capital One Lounge at IAD for the idea. Written on a plane.
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Accidents happen all the time — people fall, knives slip, condoms break.
It’s inevitable, really. A known fact of life. Call it Murphy’s law, bad luck, or just plain stupidity…
You’ve spent the majority of your teens and 20s successfully avoiding an accident.
If it can happen, it will happen your superstitious aunt used to say, and you were a believer.
Lord knows you've had more than enough evidence in your life to back up her words. From the tummy ache after eating way too many cherries, to the conspicuous brown stain that ruined your pristine white blouse. A blister on your heel from shoes that were supposed to be 'broken in' but never quite were, and the painful crack in your skin that followed. Proof was everywhere, and you learned to expect the unexpected.
You hold tight to that belief, while Joel does the same to your hips, fucking you within an inch of your life in the airport lounge bathroom.
But how you both ended up in this position was no accident.
++++
It never seemed like the right time—you had so much more to explore, achieve, and experience. Becoming a mother would complicate everything; at least, that's what you convinced yourself. You were content to rely on that little orange pill each day, despite its own set of side effects, because it kept your options open.
You weren't sure you'd make a good mom anyway. Your own mother certainly wasn't a shining example, and you had no reason to think you'd be any different. You couldn't even keep a cactus alive—how could you possibly care for a child?
But something changed not long after you and Joel got married. Maybe it was maturity slowly finding its way in, like warm honey filling the spaces you once closed off. It softened you to the idea of chubby cheeks and tiny fingers, gentle coos, and quiet lullabies sung in the deep southern drawl that had become so familiar.
Initially, you weren't sure how Joel would take the news, but when you told him you'd reconsidered, his reaction was beyond anything you'd expected. He was over the moon, filled with an urgency you'd never seen in him before. It was like you'd handed him the key to his deepest desires, and he was eager, almost desperate, to turn it and bring new life into your world, yours and his.
He made it clear just how eager he was when he took you in his arms and twirled you around the kitchen in joy. Then, without missing a beat, he bent you over the counter, yanked down your jeans, and made his intentions unmistakably clear. He fucked his cum so deep inside of you that night that you felt the warm dribble of him the next morning.
++++
Good things come to those who wait.
The words seem almost lifeless as they peer back at you, the paper they're printed on showing signs of age and Scotch tape keeping it glued to the break room wall above the microwave. The optimism they once held has faded, leaving behind nothing but cynicism and wear.
Yeah. Right.
The shrill beep of the microwave snaps you back to the present, your shoulders tensing. You shake off your irritation, clutching the warm coffee that’s been reheated three times, its heat barely reaching the chill of your underlying pessimism. It’s a small comfort, but enough to soften the ache of disappointment that nags at you every month when hope fizzles out.
Back at your desk, you bury yourself in work, flipping through emails and juggling various applications. Headphones in, you’re almost lost in your own world when a notification on your phone pulls you back. It's your cycle tracking app, reminding you that you're due to ovulate in a couple of days. But wait—
No, no, no. You quickly count the days in your head, then scramble to open your work calendar. The schedule's a blur until your eyes land on the words "Work Trip: Jackson, Wyoming." They jump off the screen, almost mocking you. Looks like timing won't be on your side this month. Unless —
Would it be too ridiculous to change an entire work trip just so you could make love to your ridiculously hot husband, and let him fill you again and again? You think not, but you know your boss might say otherwise.
You spend the rest of your workday figuring out Plan B. The irony is not lost on you that you’re seeking out an entirely different kind than you used to.
++++
As you settle into the couch, your legs draped across his lap, he begins to massage the soles of your feet in that soothing way that sends a ripple of warmth up your spine. You can't help but glance at his side profile—the elegant slope of his nose, the chiseled cut of his jaw, and the effortless curls of his salt-and-pepper hair that rest at the nape of his neck. He's undeniably handsome, a sight that never gets old.
His touch spreads a slow heat across your skin, your stomach fluttering in response. It's always been this way—the world could be crumbling outside, but with Joel, in your shared cocoon, you feel entirely at ease, wrapped in safety and affection.
“You're really gorgeous, you know,” you murmur, almost too quietly to be heard. You swirl the wine in your glass and meet his gaze as you take a sip.
“Nah, that's you, sweetheart,” he replies with a wink, his touch transitioning to featherlight kitten caresses as his fingers trace a path up your shin. He's not trying to seduce you, not really, but his touch and the intent gaze he holds on you are enough to ignite a slow burn under your skin.
You relax into the cushions, your head sinking back into the pillow, reveling in this moment. When he pauses, even for a second, you squirm, and he chuckles softly. “Such a needy little thing, aren't cha?” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he resumes his gentle strokes. “Mhm, sure am,” you hum, your eyes closing as you melt into the sensation of his skin on yours.
He slowly journeys upward, callused palms gliding along the smooth skin of your thigh, alternating between soft strokes and firm squeezes. Each touch seems to awaken a deeper need within you, and you're all too aware of the growing bulge beneath your calves, a silent but potent reminder of the desire simmering between you. It's enough to make you ache for him, crave his closeness, the kind of closeness only he can provide.
You lift your head, and he's already adjusting, his broad frame looming over you. He locks eyes with you as he takes the wineglass from your hand, placing it on the coffee table with care, then shifts his full attention back to you. You push your hips upward, meeting his, and he presses down just enough to make it clear that he’s in control, his body holding you firmly but without discomfort. You know he’s got you right where he wants you.
Your eyes meet his, and the intensity in his gaze leaves no doubt—this is happening. He props himself up on one forearm, his other hand tangling through your hair, his knuckles brushing against your cheek with a tender touch. He thrusts his hips into you with more urgency, his lips descending to capture yours, drawing out a soft moan from deep within you.
“Fuck sweetheart, feel what you do to me?” he groans, pressing his lips harder against yours. He tastes the wine on you, and your tongues intertwine, each movement slow but deliberate. You work your arms free from your sides and slide your hands into his hair, tugging gently, your nails grazing his scalp. The deep groan that escapes him tells you he's feeling everything—the pull, the scrape, the heat. It rumbles from his chest, reverberating through you, and it's intoxicating.
With your lips pressed firmly to his, he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a teasing bite as he thrusts against you. The rough denim scrapes against your inner thighs, and he slots himself perfectly between your legs. His mouth leaves yours, tracing a path of soft kisses down your jawline, lingering at that sensitive spot just behind your ear before he pulls the lobe into his mouth. You moan, fingers tangled in his hair, while your other hand explores the broad expanse of his back, craving the feel of him, unable to get enough.
“Joel,” you whimper, his name almost a question on your lips.
He doesn't pause, thrusting with just the right pressure, almost ignoring your plea. You move your lips to his shoulder and whisper, “I’m ovulating.”
That makes him stop. He props himself up on one forearm, his free hand on your ribs, his intense gaze locking onto yours. His eyes darken, pupils eclipsing the rich brown you know so well, and he groans deeply. Fuck.
“Yeah, sweetheart? Mmm, big mistake telling me that, now I’m just going to pump you full of my cum all night, gonna fuck you again and again, keep you so full of me that it’ll have no choice but to stick this time.”
You whimper at the thought, and his words go straight to your already wet core, your pussy fluttering around nothing, practically begging to be filled.
You want him so bad, but right now, he wants you more — wants every part of you, wants to change you forever. His head dips back to your neck, and he's practically grinding into you, the pressure so intense it feels like he's already fucking you through your clothes. His beard rasps against your cheek, leaving a trail of red marks as he works his way down to your chest, hastily undoing buttons, uncovering your breasts, and teasing your nipples to hard, eager peaks.
It would almost be embarrassing how turned on you are right now if it were anyone but him, how easily he can fluster you, turn you into a babbling mess.
“Well, not right now, but I am next —” you start to say, but quickly lose your train of thought as his whole hand comes down to cup your sex and the feel of his palm pressing against your dripping center.
“Sorry darlin’, what was that?” He asks, doing little to hide the smug tone behind his voice, obviously pleased with the effect he has on you.
“I am next week, while I’m supposed to be in Jackson for work,” you manage to get out, the words coming out soft, a barely there thought, your attention mostly on the sensation of his thick finger that has now curled its way deep inside of you, your panties pushed to the side as they should never have been there in the first place, not with him in the room.
“Come with me,” you ask, your words a tad breathless as he adds another finger to your dripping center, your slick coating them completely, and when he doesn’t answer, you’re not sure he heard you behind the haze of his arousal, the blood thrumming through his veins. Not that you can blame him, it’s so hard to fucking think, to breathe, to string together a rational thought that isn’t dirty when you’re together like this.
“Gotta feel this pussy first,” he rasps, the words slightly muffled against the tenderness of your breast. His words sober you for a brief second, as you playfully push against him in protest.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it," you laugh, and he can't suppress the goofy grin spreading across his face. He loves this—the playful banter, the way you bring out his lighter side, the perfect blend of passion and humor that flows between you. It's always been like this, effortlessly flirty, endlessly fun. You’re the perfect combination of sexy and cute, and better yet, you’re all his.
“Alright baby, I’ll come with you, on one condition,” he says, adding a third finger, and the stench of him is intoxicatingly delicious, perfect, and intense in the best way. You already feel so fucked out, you’re not sure how he’s managing to find the will to set fucking conditions right now, but still, you humor him —
“Conditions, huh?” You moan as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, the pads of his fingers grazing at the soft spongey spot inside of you that makes you see stars.
“Yeah, sweetheart, conditions,” he says, nipping at your chin. “You’re gonna be the good girl I know you are and come all over my fingers, and then I’ll make sure that you’re full of me all week, whenever you want it baby, I’m all yours,” he rasps, his breath coming a bit more ragged now at the thought of your proposition and his.
His fingers are still deep inside of you, he positions his wrist just right and brings the pad of his thumb to your clit. Your slick, combined with his filthy fucking mouth, and his thick cock pressed against you, creates the perfect conditions for the inevitable. He’s never not made you come, and you sure as hell know he’s not about to change that narrative now.
If it can happen, it will happen.
“Come on pretty girl, show me how pretty you come on your husband’s fingers,” he says, not really asking, but rather ordering in the tone that lights every nerve in your body on fire with arousal.
The warmth in your lower belly spreads outward, wrapping you in a blanket of pleasure. Your limbs tingle, your vision blurs, and your toes curl as the intensity builds. For a split second, everything goes hazy, and you let go, surrendering to him completely. He takes control, guiding you through the waves of ecstasy, pulling you into a bliss that only he knows how to reach.
“So good for me, sweetheart. You are so perfect.”
He makes you come once more soon after and then fucks you deep and slow. It’s all whispered praises in your ear, a firm grip on your hips, and his cock barely leaving your cunt before he’s slamming back into you, desperate to keep the tip of him as close to your cervix as possible.
Come with me, you moan, and he knows exactly what you mean this time.
“Shit, baby, I can feel you squeezing me, taking me so good —” his words break with a moan as you come for the third time, falling apart on his cock, before he adds “gripping me so goddamn tight.”
His thrusts slow and he buries himself to the hilt inside of you, and paints your insides in thick ropes of cum, holding your gaze as he throbs inside, not daring to move and risk any of his spend coming out before he wants it to.
He plants a soft kiss on your lips and tells you that you’re going to look even more gorgeous with his baby inside of you.
++++
The delayed flight to Jackson was just another reminder of life's unpredictability.
What started as a simple 30-minute delay quickly turned into an hour, then two, and now you're both three hours past your original departure time.
You find yourselves in one of the newer airport lounges, sitting in overly posh chairs. It's surprisingly uncrowded given the chaos that usually comes with airport delays. Your luggage is safely tucked away in the lockers, your bellies are full from the free snacks, and the irritation from earlier is fading thanks to the complimentary drinks. The ambiance is unexpectedly chic. Even the bathrooms feel upscale—private, enormous mirrors, fancy soap, and paper towels so luxurious they might as well be hand towels.
Joel is deep into a well-worn Western novel, its cover frayed and spine cracked from countless readings. You're scrolling through an article about the best positions for conceiving, smirking when you realize you and Joel have tried most of them, and then some. Just as you're in the middle of your read, your cycle tracking app sends a notification—you're at peak fertility, starting now. Have fun! ;)
Shit.
Who knows when you'll actually make it to your hotel room in Jackson tonight? You glance up from your phone, stealing a look at Joel. He's always handsome, but there's something about him in his glasses—the way the frames sit on the bridge of his nose, the slight furrow in his brow as he focuses on the words in his book. It's endearing how he still reads with such intensity, even though you know he's revisited these same pages countless times.
Your pussy flutters and aches at the sight, giving you a cheeky idea. He did say you could have him whenever you wanted.
You clear your throat, hoping to pull Joel's focus from his book, but he doesn't seem to notice. You try again, this time a bit louder, and all you get is a distracted, "You okay, sweetheart?" without him even glancing up.
You know you’ll need to be more direct to capture his attention.
"I'm going to use the restroom," you say, and he nods, eyes still on the page. Once inside, you leave the door unlocked and hike up your dress, exposing your bare breasts. You pinch your nipples between your thumb and forefinger until they harden, then push out your chest, angling your smartphone for the perfect shot. The result is a provocative selfie that you know will make him put that book down.
You attach it to a message for Joel and quickly type out your request — come knock me up in the bathroom, Cowboy.
He’s joining you in the bathroom faster than you thought he would, careful to avoid any curious eyes or draw attention to the fact that he’s about to absolutely wreck his wife.
Once inside, he locks the door behind him and grabs your waist, guiding you back until your hips hit the counter's edge. His hands roam over your body, lifting the hem of your dress until it's bunched around your waist. He kisses you with a desperate hunger, as if he hasn't had you in years.
"You sure you want to do this here, sweetheart?" he groans against your lips, shifting between playful nips, gentle kisses on your cheeks, and heated sucks at your jawline. The anticipation in his touch is palpable, but he's still checking to make sure this is what you want.
“Never been more sure of anything in my life except for the day I married you. Please fuck me, Joel, need to feel you stretch me out” you say, your words crossed between a whimper and a plea.
God, just when he thought you couldn’t get any more perfect.
“Yeah? My girl wants me to fill up her tight little hole,” he teases, already knowing the answer. He moves his hand to your dripping core and lets out a deep groan when he discovers you’ve already removed the barrier of your underwear for him.
“Fuck baby, I’d do anything to taste you right now, wanna hear all those pretty noises you make and the way my name sounds when you moan it for me,” and you soften more under the heat of his words, letting your mind drift to thoughts of how good it feels when his head is between your legs, gently wringing orgasm after orgasm out of you like it’s his fucking job.
“Gotta make this one quick, though. Can you be quiet for me, sweetheart?” He asks, and all you can do is nod.
"Good girl—c'mere, turn around," he instructs, guiding you with his hands until you've spun around, your hips pressing into the sink. His hand travels down your spine, making you arch toward him slightly, and he bends you over even more. In the mirror, you see him behind you, his eyes locked on yours as he quickly unbuckles his belt and lowers his jeans to mid-thigh. The anticipation is electric as you watch him in the reflection, knowing exactly what's coming next.
He spits into his hand and jerks himself, all the while holding your gaze, admiring the way your breasts are pressed up against the counter, perky and perfect. His cock twitches at the thought of what they’ll look like all swollen and full of milk.
He lines himself up against your wet and waiting hole, holds your hips steady with one hand, and gathers your hair in his fist with the other. He gently tugs it so your chin is angled up, eyes even straighter looking into the mirror. He loves watching you take it.
“You’re gonna watch as I fuck you, sweetheart,” He rasps as he presses himself into you in one stroke. You’re so fucking wet, your greedy cunt accepts him easily, despite his size. Like it knows what it wants, and what it needs. There’s a dull delicious sting at the intrusion.
“Oh my god, Joel, you’re so bi—” You break off in a moan as he pulls out and then slams himself into you deep and hard.
“God damn, look at you, my perfect fucking girl. Taking me so well, like this cock was made for you, huh baby?” His voice is firm, but quiet, just above a whisper. He’s not wasting time, he sets a punishing pace, and all you can do is let him use you.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fill me, fill me” you cry out, and he brings his hand to cover your mouth.
“What’d I say about being quiet, baby?” He holds you like that. You slip your hand between your thighs and rub your clit, a dangerous combination when he’s fucking you in this position. You come so fast that you think it might be a record. The tightening of your cunt has him on the precipice of his release.
“You’re fucking mine,” he growls, fucking his cum into you over and over, using every drop of him to give you what you want.
It might not stick this time, hell, it might not stick next time, but one thing is for certain — Joel will keep you full and fucked either way.
Part 2
Reblog + Support Writers + Comment
A/N Continued: Thank you so much for reading! On a side note, my engagement here has been really low lately. :( As much as I'd love to say I don't care about the notes, I won't lie and tell you I don't need them for validation. If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I'll love you forever.
Tagging some moots for visibility (lmk if you want to be removed if the subject matter isn't your thing. No hard feelings!)
@endlessthxxghts @syd-djarin @auteurdelabre @morning-star-joy@theoasisofthings @chulopascal @morallyinept @sweetercalypso @xdaddysprincessxx @burntheedges @punkshort @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @survivingandenduring @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @missladym1981 @morgaussy
#joel miller smut#joel miler x fem!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#breeding k1nk#joel miller the last of us#joel miller one shot#pedro pascal character#pedrohub#pedrostories#joel miller#joel miller fanfic
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double-stuffed.
peter parker x male reader x jaime reyes.
summary: nothing bonds two men who hate each other more than a sloppy mouth, and a sloppy hole.
wc: 13.1k.
genre: smut.
warnings: college au, friends with benefits, top!peter, tasm!peter, jealous!peter top!jaime, jealous!jaime, bottom!reader, threesome, rough-sex, blowjobs, handjobs, double-penetration, dirty-talk, muscle worship, body worship, fingering, ass-eating, mouth-fucking, dry-humping, breeding, eiffel-tower, filthy smut, loads and loads of cum, peter and jaime are rivals, reader is a slut, and reader also has a stretched out and sloppy hole by the end!
notes: how tf did i just write 13k of pure smut. ok well, not pure smut since i added some backstory, BUT. i wrote a lot, like??? hello??? someone check up on me!!!
The cold air breached through the cracked-open window in Peter’s bedroom. It’d been the winter season for months, yet snow had become a rarity with every passing year. It was much appreciated when you saw the ice crystals accumulate and cover the ground until it felt like you were practically walking on crunchy clouds.
Though, despite the weather, it didn’t stop classes from continuing unfortunately.
Another gust of wind blew into his bedroom, and you pressed closer into Peter’s body. Legs entangled with his longer limbs, and he’d bring your front leg over his hip for extra comfort, simultaneously providing himself another opportunity of friction to thaw out his goosebumps.
“Pete…” You muttered into the kiss. It came out in hesitant sputters, breathless as his hips began moving against yours in a lazy yet fruitful pressure.
You weren’t sure when it happened; Peter had an incredibly poisoning effect on you that blurred time altogether; but your jeans were tossed to the corner, leaving you in your sweater and briefs. He was dressed, or rather undressed, similarly; a blue sweater that contrasted your beige, except his pants were unbuckled down to his knees.
“Why did you open the window? I’m cold.” He muttered back, detaching his lips from yours to settle onto his second favorite part of your body—your neck.
Peter was observant. He had catalogued sections of your skin that would honor his ears the sweet and delectable sounds of your moans from many times prior.
Simply kissing your neck wasn’t enough. Licking multiple stripes beneath the underside of your jaw made you stiffen and swallow down any potential sounds. It was a leap forward, but you were resistant to him—at the very least, you did well in feigning it—and he’d start suckling to hammer ice picks at the barricade that had seemingly repelled all of his actions.
“Would help if you had your pants back on, you know—“ You answered after several long moments. Your mind had pivoted to Peter’s pair of lips by now, closing your eyes to the sloppy sounds of his markings as you breathed in the scent of his shampoo.
When he felt a swallow, your adam’s apple bobbing for aid—to catch some sort of breath—Peter could see the barricade crumble, feel his liability in infecting you with desire and lust as he felt a tent forming in your briefs. And he’d bite a mark into your flesh to let you out of your misery, drawing out the poison with several hard sucks until it was bruising. A gasp and multiple drowsy moans of his name heightened his senses and Peter felt his ears redden with heat from how absolutely devouring you sounded.
You felt his hand slip under your sweater and made its way towards your chest, pinching and circling your nubs with gentle fingers.
“Besides,” There was a familiar heat being stimulated with every grind of his hips, every tweeze of your nipples, and you’d thank Peter in between with a motion of your own. A languid kiss accompanied as you pressed intimately close, slowing the eagerness of Peter’s movements as both of your bulges collectively rubbed and throbbed when direct contact was being made. “Doesn’t seem like the cold is affecting you much.”
He chuckled at your tease. “Yeah? I’m just getting started too—“ The same hand that was thawing the goosebumps off your chest cascaded back to its rightful place on your thigh, then to the cheeks of your covered ass before he playfully squeezed and slapped in turn.
You let out a laugh, pushing yourself back onto his palms when he’d begun kneading at your flesh. His eyes were focused on your bitten lips, clearly isolating any more noises that would make his ears burst into flames if they hadn���t already.
But he was selfish. He needed more of you.
Whenever you pushed back, he pulled you forward, rocking you into him—into the tent forming stubbornly in his boxers. One hand rested on Peter’s cheek and there would be moments where you’d ever so gently cupped the plumpest section of his skin when you rolled into him just right.
“Fuck, Pete—“ It started off innocent with your hips moving back slowly, languidly into him as if you had no intentions of finishing what you started.
You were spellbound. He tantalized every ounce of thought until he had become the sole proprietor of your brain, leasing you a vitality that you could only repay in pure and absolute pleasure.
“Shit—“ The collaborative movements had enough momentum to coincidentally shift his boxers until the slit aligned with the tucking of his erection, and with one more roll of your hips, you drew Peter’s weighty cock out from the opening.
“Keep doing that… fuck. My dick’s out.” He was desperate in his demands and equally distracted as he constantly switched gazes between the way your clothed bulge rubbed against his hard-on, and the parting of your swollen lips, to which he immediately seized the chance to slip his tongue inside of you.
He explored you in every way possible, licking inside of your mouth then pursuing your wet muscle in a brief yet sloppy chase, swiveling his tongue around yours until you surrendered into his hunger. His hands remained on your ass, squeezing and kneading at your cheeks as you continued to hump him—continued to hump his cock, your bulge pressing intimidate against his as Peter’s erection was sandwiched between your bodies, providing no window of escape.
“Wait,” You gave him a slight push on the chest when you familiarized yourself with the golden hour streaming past his window, and somehow Peter took your movements to maneuver you on top of him, sitting you on his lap. He kicked off the remaining length of his pants while you searched the surface of his bed for your phone, scoring when you felt a familiar weight in your hand.
You clicked open to the lock screen as Peter’s hands continued roaming free around your body, practically fucking himself into the barrier that were your tight briefs, and sighed. “Class is in thirty.”
“And? You can make it in time, or skip class? Fuck—I’m close…“ He reasoned and pleaded with his eyes, almost comically desperate.
“Mm-mm.” You shook your head, pressing your lips into a firm line as you grounded yourself to falter Peter’s hips to a disgruntled pause. “It’s a twenty-minute walk from here. And I don’t want to keep my partner from waiting! We were supposed to meet up earlier—“
“You seriously giving me blue balls right now? That’s a first—“ He grumbled, unwilling to let you go as his grasp tightened around your hips. It only loosened when you pressed a kiss to his lips again, whispering a soft apology in the delicacy of it.
“Sorry… I’ll make it up to you, promise.”
You lifted yourself off of the bed to Peter’s dismay and re-adjusted the tent in your briefs, slipping into your jeans after.
“Partner?” Peter’s curiosity was piqued, only because his courses rarely had group projects beyond the usual lab-work. “Is he nice? She? They?”
He followed after you, begrudgingly rolling off of his bed when the mere mention of your classes reminded him of his own deadlines approaching. He tucked himself back inside of his boxers. Though, a large tent greatly remained.
“He. You might know him? He told me he was in a couple of my classes before then, and those were all the same ones you and I were in.” Your eyes scanned for your books, collecting it into your arms when you found them, then for your backpack after.
Peter gave your shoulder a small nudge and you turned back, finding your backpack hanging by his fingers. “Yeah? Who?”
“Thanks,” You took your bag from him, swinging it onto your shoulder, and then pressed a grateful kiss to his cheek. “Uh… Jaime! Jaime Reyes.”
“Jaime…?” Peter paused in thought, then frowned as if he ate one of your favorite sour candies. “That… asshole in Film Studies?”
He followed you from behind as you exited his bedroom and headed towards the entrance of the apartment.
“You remember him? I don’t think I even remember what we watched in that class, to be honest. Was he that bad?”
“Yeah… Always dismissed my critical theories like they were completely wrong. Remember how we were randomly assigned a partner and we’d be stuck with them throughout the semester? He was mine! Peer-reviewing was hell with him… ” Peter bitterly recounted the memories as you listened.
There was a puzzled expression on your face that Peter found himself half-humored by, but your gaze snapped into a bright realization, as if the lightbulb above your head had exploded, the more he explained.
“Oh, yeah…! You guys were constantly going at each other when we would do those Socratic seminars. Thank god for you two, otherwise I would’ve been the one debating or asking questions.” You half-joked, but cleared your throat when there was little to no amusement in Peter’s demeanor.
“Well, maybe he thought you were cute.” You attempted to reason. “And that was his way of flirting? Or maybe he was intimidated by another smarty-pants in the class and he was over-compensating.” You snorted, holding onto the wall as you slipped your shoes on a foot at a time.
“Maybe…?” He sighed, observing you as his erection took a painful lap in its journey back to being flaccid. “Don’t take it out on me if you get a migraine because of him.”
“Pft, I deal with you on a daily basis. I can handle anything.” You finalized your outfit with a coat and a scarf around your neck. “I’ll be back!”
“Wait—“ Before you exited, he pulled you back to him by your wrist, grinning. “You got something in your eye.”
“I don’t feel anything—“ Peter took ahold of your cheeks and cradled them in his palms—plump flesh that were warm enough to convince you to skip your class for today and make a blanket fort with him instead. You smiled as he leaned close, centimeters from touching his nose with yours, and you could feel your heart weighing heavier than usual, swelling with ease the longer Peter gazed into your eyes.
And somehow, it didn’t even burst when he abruptly blew into your eye, obnoxiously laughing. “Now you do.”
“Asshole.” You elbowed his arm, his laugher quickly infecting yours, and you bid him goodbye with a peck on the lips. “Do your homework!”
Taking a painful glance at his desk from the entrance hall, piles of textbooks, notebooks, and sticky notes mocked and taunted Peter of his impending deadlines.
He groaned, dragging his feet back into his bedroom and towards his desk. “Can’t promise that.”
There was indeed something way worse than having blue balls.
“You’re still up?” Peter stepped out of his bedroom with a scratchy yawn. The dryness of his throat never failed to rouse him awake around 3 AM. His tousled hair bounced with every sluggish step towards the water filter, pressing a kiss to your cheek mid-way.
“When am I not…” Your voice was dull and monotonous as you remained fixated on the screen of your laptop, typing away at a filled word document. You had a late reaction to his kiss, turning towards Peter for a kiss on the lips instead—a reward for your hard-work for the day—but he’d already left to chug a glass of water down.
“I thought you were finished with your project by now?” He filled another cup of water before properly joining you on the couch.
Peter’s appearance for the night alerted you to clear your mind and take a breather. Your laptop was shoved off to the side and his arm immediately opened to bring you closer. You could feel the warmth of his gaze glazing over you with worry as he passed his cup of water into your hand.
“Yeah…” You sighed, drinking the lukewarm liquid in tired sips. “Turns out we needed to write an essay per topic, not include the three we’ve chosen in one collective essay.” When you finished explaining, you gulped the entire glass down, and set it on the coaster.
“That’s… tough, and annoying, and I’m sorry.” You and Peter laughed as lethargy devastated him of the vocabulary needed to properly sympathize for you, but his presence was more than enough. He rubbed your shoulder, giving one side an affectionate squeeze as a simple act of support while you leaned into him. “What’s Jaime doing?”
“The same thing. He’s coming over in the afternoon, so we can hopefully finish the rest.” You could feel Peter stiffen. If he had a switch on his body, it was flipped and glued to defense mode because as much as he hated to admit it, he was intimidated by Jaime.
“Be nice, okay? I mean, what—we were sophomores? We were all figuring ourselves out early on.”
“Hm.”
Peter was intimidated by how much time Jaime was spending time with you in and outside of class; by how quickly you seemed to have bonded over the course of a few weeks; by how intimate you seemed to have gotten with him judging by the fresh amount of hickies displayed on your neck, dethroning Peter’s own set of bruising marks.
It was all his fault—Peter’s.
He was the one that insisted on whatever you and him have had going on instead of pursuing a romantic relationship like you wanted. There had been many times where he regretted that decision; times where he thought making you his was simply a fleeting thought and nothing more. But it backfired, and regret came back in a full, disastrous, home-wrecking storm of karma.
“Get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” It was Peter’s sudden movements that made you jolt after enduring the long silence. He got up from the couch and walked back into his bedroom without sparing you a glance.
As if the thickened air in the room wasn’t telling enough, Peter’s stoicism solidified your assumption. You sighed a weight that fueled the tension looking free.
He was furiously jealous.
Peter hated how you came back from class later than you usually did. He hated how Jaime’s cologne of cedar wood and musk stung his nose instead of your usual scent of oak moss and citrus peels. He hated how every time he caught a glance of your phone, it was a text massage from Jaime. He hated how Jaime had a bug emoji next to his name, similar to how Peter had a spider next to his. He hated how Jaime had infiltrated your life, to the point of you having to base your schedule around him now.
And Peter hated how every time he was inside of you, he couldn’t stop thinking about how Jaime’s cock was buried deep in your ass, how you willingly bent over or spread open for him, how you kneeled on the floor and most likely whined and begged for his cum as you jerked him off, emptying your thoughts of what was left of Peter for him.
For Jaime.
Peter was losing you—losing to Jaime of all people—more and more with every passing day.
But he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
“Jaime…” You whined, drawing out the last vowel of his name as you stretched forward to loosen the tense muscles knotting along your lower back. A groan escaped when the pad of your fingers grazed your toes, and you immediately snapped back when a cramp began to settle in. “Can we take a break? I swear, I’m starting to go blind.”
You and Jaime have been sitting on the floor, circled around your coffee table in the living room as you both worked on finishing the essays, as well as the accompanying presentation.
“Uh-oh, seems like we gotta take desperate measures then. Who else would hype me up if you go blind?” He joked, then stretched his arms upwards until a loud crackle drew a satisfying groan from him. “Dinner?”
“Uh…” You looked around for your phone, spotting it on the couch you were leaning back against, and clicked the device open to reply to Peter’s messages. “Peter said he was getting pizza for us after class. Should be on his way now.”
[Petey 🕷️]: All pepperoni ok?
[M/N]: yeaaaap, can you get pineapple on one side too
[Petey 🕷️]: Oh god, I forgot that you’re a pineapple person
[M/N]: IT’S GOOD TO ME! 🍍🍍🍍
[Petey 🕷️]: You could dip it in a can of pineapple juice and there would be no difference
[M/N]: shut up, i’m the one paying for it
“Huh, really?” Jaime was surprised, straightening his posture as he took a nonchalant peek at your phone. For a moment there, Peter’s kindness took ahold of Jaime’s pessimism by the reins and pressed a non-existent brake. “That’s… nice of him.”
Frankly, it was your suggestion to Peter, which surprisingly didn’t take much convincing since it was his favorite pizza joint. All he really needed was a kiss to seal the deal.
Jaime’s gaze flickered between the sprint of your thumbs and your growing smile. Blue and grey colored message bubbles appeared one after another, and the snickers that fostered briefly colored him red. Rather than finding the sound of your voice annoying, it was the person nourishing the joyful noises out of you that ticked him off.
Since middle school, he had always been at the top of his class. Whether it was because he truly enjoyed the subjects in school, or because he wanted to be the hero that pulled his family out of poverty—failing wasn’t an option.
Then came Peter Parker. He’d been in four of his courses since sophomore year, but it was Film Studies that truly roused a flame within him. Maybe because it was a smaller class as opposed to a seminar like the rest of his classes with him.
Or maybe because it was his first class with you, absolutely head over heels for Peter.
Peter, who would come into class late because he overslept. Peter, who would fall asleep during a viewing of a film instead of analyzing the mise-en-scene. Peter, who would be awaken by their professor and somehow manage to conjure an answer that would satisfy her—or worse, impress her. Peter, who didn’t have to work hard as him because he was… Peter Parker.
Peter Parker, who was the sole captor of your bright smile that Jaime had preferred over a hot cup of coffee when mornings were tough; the motivation for you to come out of your shell because Peter didn’t want you to be a loner like him; the person you would rely on because you trusted his opinion; the reason Jaime could find the courage to get a word in when he approached you because Peter was always by your side.
Peter, who Jaime could never be.
“Hey,” Your ear twitched as a gentle draft blew into the canal, and you immediately turned to face Jaime, ticklish in your endeavor. “I’m here too.” His lips pressed onto yours, sweet and fulfilling despite there being a bitterness in his tone.
“Sorry…” You murmured, tossing your phone to the side as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close and relishing in the softness of his lips.
Jaime let his muscles go limp, immediately toppling over your body once you pulled him close, and your bodies clumsily collided onto the rug with a small thump, a fit of laughter breaking the kiss apart in midst.
He positioned himself on his side after rolling off of you, cushioning your body with one of his arms beneath your back in turn. “Why is your rug comfier than my bed?”
You shrugged, sprightly raising your brows. “Doesn’t stop us from making out on it.” Your hand rested on his cheek briefly before swiveling it over to the front of his hair, brushing it back in one stoke, and settling on the back of his head to pull him face-to-face, nose-to-nose.
The dark curls of Jaime’s hair fell forward over his forehead in delicate and thick clumps, and you sniffed a familiar waft of spearmint that was pleasant to your senses. “Do that again. Feels nice.”
“Yeah?” You chuckled because Jaime’s voice lowered to a calming whisper, feeling his lips brush ever so slightly over yours—feathery and light like a brush—as you repeated your strokes. Your nails scraped lightly over his scalp, enough pressure to close his eyes and coerce a satisfied sigh out of him, and then another into your mouth when he kissed you as delicately as your touch again.
Every swipe of Jaime’s lips—of his tongue—muted the sounds around you, phased you out of reality, and lulled you out of the migraine you’ve been enduring for pulling an all-nighter. The last sound you recalled hearing was Jaime’s zipper, an enchanting pitch that needed no verbal cue for you to sneak your hand down his pants. The eye-rolling massage at the base of his head was abandoned, but it was immediately compensated when you rubbed and cupped at his clothed bulge.
For a moment, Jaime perfectly fit in your palm, letting your fingers do most of the work without much wrist movement as they pressed and squeezed at the soft lump. As you continued, you gradually felt the lump expand into a meaty mass that had you practically drooling into his mouth because you remember the taste and smell of his thick cock.
And defeated, because you recollected the uncomfortable stretch he’d summon when he was inside of you.
“Fuck.” Jaime hissed when your thumb pressed the smooth fabric of his briefs to the plump glans of his uncut cock, forcing the fabric to swivel his foreskin over the head in tantalizing circles—until thick drips of pre-cum stuck and stained a spot of the white briefs into a deeper shade of grey. “I could come just like this, you know?”
“Would be a waste of cum, though.” You simpered, looking pleased with the effect you had on him. Your hand began stroking the thick shape of his cock, pushing his tuck upwards until the tip poked out from under the waistband, greeting you with a delectable coat of pre-cum when you peeked downwards.
Jaime exhaled a shaky breath, pulling his shirt off. “Knowing you, you’d probably suck it right off the fabric, wouldn’t you?” The starry haze in your eyes; the constant licks of your lips; the harder grasps at his cock to pursue more dribbles of his pre-cum; he recognized the symptoms of your lewd vehemence straight off-the-bat, promptly rolling onto his back and kicking his pants off.
“Fuck, yeah.” You were famished, absolutely starving from the way you attacked his lips and sloppily explored his mouth with your tongue after straddling on top of him. You pressed onto his bulge, pushing against the center of his briefs with deep ruts until the head of his cock was exposed. Your mouth swallowed every profanity that would slip out of Jaime’s throat, fueling your hunger and channeling it into harder grinds.
He briefly put you on time-out to sit up and help you undress, one article of clothing at a time, beginning with your shirt. Jaime latched his mouth onto the first surface of skin he laid his eyes on. As you lifted your shirt, exposing more of your body, his lips trailed behind the hem soon after. He licked upward in one long strike, then dragged his tongue over the center of your chest, murmuring as you held his head close.
“Have I ever told you how much I loved your body?” It was a sweet confession, some would reckon that it was wholesome, and that was more of a reason why it made your cock throb in strong pulses, begging for your sweatpants to release them for oxygen. He chuckled, one hand squeezing you at your bulge. “Guess I haven’t enough.”
First, he tongued at your nipples, flicking the wet muscle on one nub before moving onto the next as he held you by the waist with one hand, balancing your straddle on his lap, and massaging the print in your pants with the other. Your cheeks ignited into flames when you caught his gaze; half-lidded and drowsy as if the sound of your moans was his lullaby. Then, he gently bit when he figured you’ve been hypnotized by the languid swivel of his tongue for far too long, disrupting the chain of moans into staggers. “Jaime, fuck—“
“Try tugging on them with your teeth.” Your brows furrowed, wrinkles creasing in the middle of the two arches, as you were puzzled by a sudden voice that sounded distinctly different from Jaime’s.
When you met his gaze again, his expression mirrored yours, frowning because your lips never moved when the voice came up. “What did you—“
There was a silhouette that loomed near the open kitchen that pulled your gaze from Jaime and towards the shape of a familiar body instead. Jaime’s gaze quickly followed yours after witnessing your pupils dilate.
Peter was leaning back on the kitchen island, watching with one hand down his pants and a smile that rendered you speechless and frozen in place. “When did you—I-I didn’t even hear you come in—“
“Few minutes ago. Good thing I didn’t miss the miss the show. It was getting good.”
Before you and Jaime could begin scrambling for your clothes, Peter was already on his way towards the two of you, halting in front. You scanned him from head to toe for any anomalies, a break you’d expect to see if someone was caught almost fucking on their living room floor. What you got instead was a familiar gaze that you’ve accustomed to your own intimacy with Peter, then he lightly tapped his foot against Jaime’s lower back.
“Not the ideal situation I’d like to… meet you again in, but… I will say that I like it a lot better than what I had originally imagined.”
“Seriously? What do you—“ Jaime met Peter’s eyes, an awkward yet heavy tension in the air forming, but once his gaze fell to the center of Peter’s crotch being palmed by his hand, he felt a lightbulb go off. “Ah.” He scoffed, a gale of chuckles following after because of the absurdity of the situation—to cover up the guilt that he found it hot at the same time.
That he actually found Peter attractive.
“Peter, I don’t think this is—“ You reasoned, but Peter deprived your speech when he began stripping off his own clothes. What the fuck is happening…?!
“(M/N) likes it when you tug on his nipples with your teeth.” He ignored you, nonchalantly repeating to Jaime. Though, it was hard to ignore the dumb-stricken look on your face when he approached closer to you, your confused gaze following his every movement. To appease you, he gave your chin a gentle cup, fondly stroking the center with his thumb as he shared a look that you could only deem as trusting from him.
You only began to relax when Jaime forged his suggestion into reality when he brought his mouth back up to your nipples and gently tugged at the nubs with his teeth. Every pull yanked a moan out of you, but you couldn’t help but feel entirely exposed and ashamed, knowing that Peter was watching you with another man.
It was allowed. Jaime and Peter have known about each other as flings for quite some time now, so it wasn’t like you were cheating, but… why did it feel wrong?
Once Peter stripped himself down to his boxers, he approached your side again for support, a large tent begging for you to release it from the loose restriction of the pattered fabric. Jaime’s gaze curiously followed Peter, watching his every move as he suckled, bit, and pulled at your nipples. He repeated despite the fact that they were swollen in between his lips, gratified that they were becoming perkier with every torment he’d inflict upon them.
Despite the fact that you had given into Jaime’s touch, into Peter’s demands, you looked up at him with concern, a daunting guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders, and he recognized that look with sympathy, assuring you with a calming smile and a soft kiss for good measure.
“Be a good boy for me, and stroke my cock.” Peter murmured lowly, stroking your cheek with doting knuckles, and you felt pacified right then and there. “And when you’re stroking my cock, you’re going to stop being selfish, treat Jaime like the respectable guest he is, and suck him off—got it?”
It was rare for Peter to be verbal like that. It wasn’t him, he claimed once, explaining that it was awkward because it sounded like he was in a cheesy porno.However, even if it was terribly and overly used in those pornos; a porno was a porno, and Peter was turning you on more than ever right now.
You inhaled, absolutely enraptured by what you were demanded to do that you forgot to breathe for a brief moment—but Peter kissed you again as a reminder, and you nodded. “Got it.”
You could feel Jaime throbbing under your clothed ass, his bulge prodding at the center of the fabric in desperate beats, as if he was agreeing to Peter’s ultimatum. Guess the dirty talk got to you too, huh?
As you climbed off of Jaime’s lap, Peter tossed a couple of throw pillows to him for his lower back and his head. Then, he did the honors of pulling your sweatpants off. A collective sigh of relief was heard as Peter and Jaime realized you went commando when your cock sprang free, throbbing and begging solely on the basis of Jaime’s mouth and Peter’s voice.
You knelt on the floor and bent forward, pushing your ass back while you slowly tugged Jaime’s briefs off to reveal his thick, uncut cock, seeping in its own pre-cum. “Pete, look how wet he is.” You slurred on your own drool as Peter knelt by Jaime’s hip, rubbing at his own cock.
“Geez, no wonder you were such an ass. Probably kept ruining your pants—“ Peter amused himself, taking one glance at the flushed expression on Jaime’s face, and chuckled.
“No, that’s not— we’re going to talk about my problem with you later.” Jaime stammered, but then halted when a sigh huffed past the dry of his throat as you took his stiff dick in your hand and stroked, squeezing until his foreskin covered the swollen glans completely and let the pre-cum pool within the folds, and then pulled the skin back and spread the thick coating back over the head again, somehow thicker with every cycle.
“Fuck…” Peter watched in awe, continuing to palm at his erection until the restriction of the garment had become unbearable to sit in. He slipped his boxers off and tossed it to the corner, then positioned his hips to sneak his cock into the palm of your free hand.
There was an expecting look on his face when you glanced over; a brow raised and a nod to his cock that seemingly reminded you of his demands. Balancing on his knees, Peter’s thighs pulsed, his taller height putting more weight on his muscles and making it look all the more sculpted as if he’d selfishly stolen limbs from Michelangelo’s workroom. Even though you’d seen Peter naked more times than you could count, you found yourself staring marvelously at his body. You never noticed how with every stroke of your hand, he sucked in his stomach, to pace his breathing, and his abdominal muscles would naturally divide into sharp, defined lines.
Somehow even more so, when he began thrusting into your fist.
As Peter helped you with one of your tasks, Jaime naturally found himself spreading his legs apart when you began lowering your head. You’d never admit it because out of context it sounded incredibly comical, but you loved cock. If you had to utilize the formal language of your essays, you’d say that you treasured it. It was one of the many reasons why Peter and Jaime loved having you around; why you found yourself on your knees after they returned from a long day of classes; why you’d gotten better at taking them down your throat because it’d become a daily practice, a hobby you’d reckon.
Because you knew how to appreciate a cock when you saw one, how to make love to one, and you would do anything to make your men feel at ease, even if it was at the cost of your own abandoned pleasure.
“So fucking big…” Your left hand continued to pump Peter’s cock while you shoved your face in between Jaime’s thighs, nuzzling and feeling the warmth of his balls loose over your nose. You inhaled his musk, repeating the deep whiffs of Jaime’s ball sweat, before taking his heavy sack into your mouth and suckling. Occasionally, you’d abandon his scrotum to lick at the underside of his cock as it laid thick and hard—pleading to be tended to—over his pelvis.
“Shit—fuck, I love it when you play with my balls like that...” You tugged on the stretchy skin with pressed lips to the base of the sack before taking him in again and rolling the spheres over the surface of your tongue like two gumdrops. You watched Jaime writhe as you tongued him, his stomach flattening and then puffing abruptly because he was precisely sensitive over the right side of his scrotum.
Jaime’s weak attempt at controlling himself from spilling a load right then and there was an example of how twitchy and overly-stimulated he could be if you found—played with—the right spot. Thankfully, he found the grace of God to hold it in and reminded himself to breathe; slow and methodical as he watched you with arousing awe.
He switched his gaze over to Peter hazing over you, and smirked. The hard gulps Peter would take, the stiffen of his jaw, the nostrils of his nose flaring up. He was blatantly jealous, scorched by the sun type of jealous, and Jaime got off on that, found himself growing impossibly harder knowing he was victorious in this moment.
Jaime was always good at reading people’s expressions. Even if they had tried to conceal it with a smile, their eyes told a different story. With your mind solely focused on pleasuring Jaime, your hand had gone limp despite still being wrapped around Peter’s own length.
“Just like that, fuck, baby.” Jaime reached down to affectionately pet at your head, a physical encouragement that stroked a delighted noise out of you, and you’d repeat until his hand gradually fell to the nape of your neck. By the desperate pulses of his hand, his palm slightly angling upwards to push your head forward; you’ve been with him long enough to recognize that he needed his cock sucked.
“Wait,” Peter abruptly spoke up, confident and authoritative, as you let Jaime’s balls go and bent forward an inch more, beginning to hover your mouth over Jaime’s cock.
You and Jaime curiously looked over. Your mouth parted open to ask him what was wrong, but Peter seized the opportunity to brush past your breath and invade your mouth with his cock, the abrupt aid of his hand surprising you as it leveled your head lower to meet his pelvis. “Just a little warm-up.”
“Peter—“ The gasp of his name was shoved down your throat, immediately coming back up as gargling instead since Peter offered you little time to prepare yourself. You heard Peter let out a strong exhale, his body melting into a limp once again when your mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock, then the first few inches of his erection the more he pushed your head down. You braced your hands against Jaime’s strong thighs, squeezing harder and harder when it became a struggle to take Peter’s thick cock.
Jaime would’ve called the pain at his thighs unpleasant; your dull nails digging painfully into his bronze flesh followed by a scratch; but all of that was forgiven because of the scene before him and how incredibly hard it made him. Like a scene found in one of his browser’s bookmarks, you were choking on a cock that was too big for you; on a cock that you pathetically had to warm up for before beginning to throat it deeper; on a cock that would be considered a miracle to shove it down your throat in the first place. For a brief second, Jaime had second thoughts on whether you’ve sucked anyone else’s dick but his own.
Peter offered you little patience, only pulling you back up to take a small breather because you begged him through an incoherent whine that could’ve easily been mistaken for a moan. After a few seconds, you were back downing on Peter’s cock as if you weren’t struggling to take him moments prior. It played out exactly like the plot of his favorite porn scene.
The feigned innocence, the porn star dick, the teary bottom; Jaime’s cock was dripping, envious of the sloppy and warm lathering that Peter was enduring, that Jaime was so close to experiencing again before Peter took it all away from him—because he was fucking jealous.
Jaime’s mouth fell open the exact moment Peter’s did when you pushed your head lower than you did previously, then lower, and it seemingly never stopped until your swollen lips flushed to the furry hairs of Peter’s pubes. “Holy shit, (M/N)…”
“Has he ever deep-throated you before? He’s getting better at it.” It was so nonchalant, Peter’s tone, as if he got to experience your glorious throat every single day. If Jaime digged deeper, he heard a cockiness to it as well.
Something possessed Jaime—a rapturing feeling that made his chest feel funny, his cheeks stain with red, his cock throb with fervor. That feeling again; jealousy.
“Yeah? Give me a try then, (M/N)?” Jaime wet his lips when a large dribble of drool rolled down the corner of your stretched mouth. He met eyes with you when you glanced, beckoning you with a wave of his thick cock then slapping it multiple times onto his palm. The loud smacks were like a spell, and he knew he succeeded when you pulled Peter’s cock out with a delicious slurp.
“Actually,” Peter’s grasp on your head hardened, turning it back to face his cock when his fingers swiped your chin, and shoved his cock back into your mouth, quickly before you could rouse a sympathy for Jaime. “Seems like he’s pretty occupied with something at the moment.”
“Seriously—“ Jaime watched with one brow raised, irritation written all over his face while stroking his cock to keep himself hard. Thankfully, you saved him from completely going flaccid as you replaced Jaime’s hand with your own, stroking him as you bobbed and sucked on Peter’s cock.
It only lasted a couple of minutes before Jaime got up, still clearly displeased, and for a minute, you’d thought he would’ve walked out right then and there, until he began standing next to Peter instead. You pulled away from Peter’s cock to take another breather, sitting flat on your bottom and then welcoming Jaime with a couple of strokes while your other hand worked at Peter’s cock at the same rhythm and pace.
“Since you’re getting so good, why don’t we introduce something new then?”
“What’s that? Am I sucking two dicks at once or something?” You joked, too distracted wiping the drool off your mouth with your forearm to notice Peter and Jaime exchanging a look that surprisingly wasn’t of malice. It was as if they hit jackpot. Their eyes brightened at the suggestion and the smallest creak of their smiles signaled a sinister connection that puzzled you.
They loved sexually tormenting you.
“Wait. Guys, I was just kidding—“
“If anyone could do it, it would be you.” Peter flashed you a grin, knocking on your lips with the tip of his cock as if it was an entrance to the warmest cock-furnace in town. “Come on.”
“Yeah. You always told me to try out my options first before deciding whether it wasn’t for me. Shouldn’t you follow your own advice?” Jaime hummed, Peter agreeing after, then joined Peter in his mischievous endeavors. He traced the outline of your lips with his cock, smearing your plump flesh with his pre-cum.
You were apprehensive, looking up at them as they straighten their posture in anticipation. Their cocks stood heavy and intimidating, weighing heavily on your lips, and you were sure if you opened up your mouth in this moment, they would certainly take the opportunity to push past your complaints and fuck your throat again.
“Make me a deal, then.” The salt of Jaime’s cock compelled you to speak, offering him the tiniest licks because you felt bad for abandoning his cock earlier. With your tongue offering him little resonance, Jaime rolled his shoulders back to get some kind of fixture, as frustrating as it was.
“What’s that?” Peter asked, greedily pressing the head of his own cock to Jaime’s so he was spared a few licks of your tongue. It was almost distracting—how the plump tips of Jaime’s and Peter’s cock connected together in thick, web-like strands. You felt yourself give in for a moment, taking both of their cocks into your hands—one in each respective grasp—and mouthed the swollen glans while speaking.
“No more fighting for the rest of the night. And if we’re ever doing this again,” You realized you had the power to control them all along, the power to make them succumb to your demands because without your mouth, who else would they go to? “You guys are going to make amends and be friends. Deal?”
“Deal.” They collectively agreed in unison, a quite comical interaction that you were confident they were going to reel back on their promise once you squeezed a load or two out of them; their minds would be cleared and their decisions wouldn’t be drawn by the simple promise of sex.
“Fuck,” You couldn’t help but compare their cocks as your hands stroked them down in your spit, coating them in a glossy sheen that caught the light above. It was glorious seeing their cocks in this position, with Peter and Jaime towering over you, their cocks sticky and wet from your spit. “Wish you could see what I’m witnessing right now.”
You were envious that they only had one subject in their center of vision. You had to constantly alternate between Jaime and Peter to make sure one wasn’t feeling neglected. If you presumed they did, you’d recompense through a cycle of sucking their cocks, playing with their balls, slapping their dicks on your face, tongue included, until your cheeks were covered in your own spit.
Whatever they wanted, you’d do it for them because you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing your boys were unhappy.
Peter’s dick was a spitting image of one of those famous male porn stars that you recalled obsessing over; a strong curve to the length with the girth thickening towards the head; it was always a struggle to fit him inside of you. If you had to be modest, you’d call it a handsome cock as natural veins pumped throughout his cock, making it evidently clear where all the blood was rushing to; a natural eye-widener, and a throat closer, for everyone.
Peter liked making sure your face was free of any anomalies. Whether the number of obscurities were the bad lighting in the room, casting shadows in place that masked your mouth, to the locks of hair covering the tiniest bit of your face; you were a wonderful performer that needed to be seen, and Peter was here to ensure that, especially with a guest in the room.
His eyes casted over you while you went down his cock under the control of his palms. He liked having you follow his rhythm, follow the pace of his urges. If he wanted for you to focus your tongue on the head of his cock, then he’d pull you back at his own time and make sure to pull his hips back whenever you needed a fix of something more. If he wanted you to deep-throat him until you couldn’t breathe, he’d make sure you were on your very last grasp of life before you turned blue.
The sound of your saliva building and welling up in the back of your throat was a beautiful noise to him, one he could hear in his sleep and happily have wet dreams of. You sucked on his cock, slobbered over the weight of it through several coughing fits and chokes, and you made sure to look up at Peter with tears in your eyes, seeking for some kind of approval. He breathed out slow, seemingly controlling himself from spilling all over you right then and there, and found that if he didn’t stop himself now, then you’d never get to Jaime. When he told you to open your mouth and pant with your tongue out like a fucking animal, a wide and dark smile spread across his face. It wouldn’t be absolute control if he didn’t succeed in humiliating you.
“Good boy,” Peter bent over to slap you hard on the ass, a loud echoing smack resonating in the room. You winched, but nonetheless smiled up at him because Peter approved of your skills. “Now, make me proud.” He sent you off with a kiss, roughly patting the side of your cheek where his cock once bulged through, and did you the favor of shoving your mouth down on Jaime’s cock with no warning.
For Jaime, it was as if his own uncut cock couldn’t handle the weight and mass of his meat, making it naturally curve downwards that made it less difficult for you to slide him down your throat. What he lacked in length, he massively over-compensated in thickness and girth. A prominent vein ran down the center, and it made your heart skip a few stones or two when you realized the thick blood vessel was the reason why he built up a delectable amount of pre-cum.
The definition of control was interpreted differently between the two men. Where Peter forced you to suck his cock and move at his own pace, Jaime preferred constraining your head in between his palms and force you to take his cock, like you were some kind of blow-up doll. With a slightly bent posture to properly fit himself into your mouth, Jaime hooked one thumb at the corner of your mouth and stretched it open to accommodate his girth, and fucked into your warm mouth. Your knees felt bruised, burning in agony as you took every one of Jaime’s heavy and selfish fucks with absolutely no complaints. You clenched your eyes tight when he hit a little too hard at the back of your throat, then again, and again, because he loved how you sounded when his cock dented into you. He also loved how you couldn’t contain yourself and let an endless amount of saliva waterfall from your tongue and mouth, making it all the easier to slide down your throat.
“Fuck yeah, dude…” Peter was in awe. You felt one of his fingers toy with the pucker of your hole after he took a scoop of your saliva and spread it over the length. In circular motions, Peter was teasing in his endeavors, chuckling to himself as he felt you clench at the tiniest appeasement. “Think he likes how you’re fucking his mouth.”
“Yeah? There’s room for two, you know.” It was the most they’ve exchanged conversations since the last time they saw each other in class; although this time, it was a much more pleasant interaction. Jaime pressed his cock to the right side of your mouth, and you whined, giving his thigh a slap because it was a strange and uncomfortable sleeping. He pacified you with a couple of head rubs, then briefly taking his cock out for you to recover your breath.
“Let’s move to the bed, my knees hurt…” You grumbled while simultaneously catching up on your breath. You didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer as you already made your way into your bedroom with footsteps following you from behind.
It only took a few seconds for the three of you to work out your positions; Peter and Jaime laid flat on the bed, with each men taking the opposite end, similar to a bridge. Their legs tangled, thighs sat atop of one another, Peter’s feet at Jaime’s head and vice versa, and ballsacks pressed with the cocks facing towards the respective owner. You were the interconnecting piece, the final key in completing the puzzle, as you sat by the side of their hips. You had Peter on your left and Jaime on your right, jerking them off with your respective hand.
“Comfy?” You asked both of them, nonchalant in tone as you briefly went down to lick at the precum dribbling down Jaime’s cock, then to Peter’s as you caught the strong pulses of his length at the corner of your eye.
“Very much…” Jaime sighed, mirroring Peter’s position and cushioning his head with his arm. Contrary to how they’ve been treating you and your mouth, their gaze had softened as they’d been watching you. Peter had his warm palm running continuously down your spine, while Jaime’s arm traversed around you to take his time in teasing your hole with a finger, slow and sweet like the taunting delicacy of your tongue.
“So fucking big…” You marveled when you pressed their stiff cocks together and stroked out a groan from either one of them. The lights of your eyes dilated into sparkles because you could barely wrap your hand around them with this one grasp, and out of curiosity, you squeezed to impossibly squish them together, effectively earning a needy rut of their hips from Peter, then Jaime, and your throat caught a profanity because it was the hottest thing ever.
Stiff veins pressed into one another and Jaime’s precum made it too slippery for you to properly hold him and Peter without one of them slipping out of your hand. You were growing impatient, and you could see it in their eyes that they were too. Jaime’s was pleading for some kind of warmth, while Peter’s was almost threatening, as if he was about to pass out any second.
After a couple more taunting strokes, you gave in and appeased them. You lowered yourself, smelling the sweat and musk that both the men heavily extruded through the slurry of pure sex, and shoved both of their cocks into your mouth. At least, you attempted to.
“Oh, fuck—“ Jaime’s eyes widened, then tightly closed because he was overwhelmed.
“Shit…” Peter muttered under his breath, the words leaving his mouth open because he’d only seen this in porn scenes.
It disappointed you, you couldn’t possibly fit them inside of your mouth except for the heads. If only you had a bigger mouth, or maybe knew how to disjoint your jaw muscles to somehow fit them both completely in—but you didn’t. Despite the limitations, you settled on fitting the heads of their cocks and suckling. As your tongue ran over Peter’s bulbous head, then Jaime’s thick glans, you made sure you were stroking what you couldn’t find in your mouth. Instead of lamenting over the loss of a stretch, you marveled at the way it felt when you wrapped your mouth around the glans, then at the way their dicks rubbed against one another desperately, imperfect in rhythms because Peter and Jaime were selfish in their own pursuit of your mouth.
“So fucking hot, god…” Your internal thoughts came out in a moan, slapping their cocks on your tongue as you stared longingly at each one of them, wanting this very scene to seep into their mind and allow you to be the defining example of a cock whore.
You then pulled away to dribble bubbles of spit over their needy cocks, lubing them each until you proceeded to struggle to fit them inside of your mouth, only barely being able to push your lips past their heads. You knew they liked watching you struggle, watching you do your best to pleasure them, and it was mutual benefit because you liked having the attention all on you.
“Need to fuck you…” Jaime demands almost came out as a whine, and you found it absolutely adorable considering his meat was weighting heavily on your tongue.
“Fuck, baby, me too… I need to fuck your hole.” There was frustration pent up in Peter’s voice, and he took it out on the grasp he had on your ass, kneading your left cheek until you could mentally picture a handprint on your skin. You winched, pushing out to relieve some of the sting, but Jaime’s hand abruptly smacking down on your right cheek rutted you back.
“Only if you guys promise to dump your loads in me.” You moaned, feeling someone’s finger climbing into your hole again and pump inside of you. Then another, spreading and curling the two joined digits. And another, three now, pumping at a slower rhythm, because your tightening walls were restricting their movements. Peter’s gaze darkened, because he swore you were clenching on purpose to taunt him.
“As if there was any other option on the table?” Peter questioned, rising to sit on his knees, and Jaime would later join.
“His hole’s made to be filled with cum.” Jaime added with a smoldering expression, flipping you onto your stomach, then provided proof of his comments by spreading your ass cheeks out until you felt completely vulnerable and exposed. You resisted with a few clenches, but Jaime’s grasp on your ass cheeks was forceful stronger; there was a gratification that helmed his palms as he showed off your pucker to Peter. You felt something wet flatten against your opening, rearing you with inquisitive licks and prods like it was searching for something inside of you, “Tastes good.” Opening you further like its intention was to make your body writhe in toe-curling and ass-pushing exaltation. Your back arched into the mattress and you spread your knees further apart, gyrating your hips into the thick, musky air because the slightest draft made your cock harden and tremble with a whimper.
“Fuck, look how tight he is too…” You moaned when Peter curiously slid two lubed fingers into you despite being well acquainted with the tight cavity once Jaime pivoted to licking at your taint, then the base of your balls. The opening of your legs provided enough space for Jaime to sneak his head in between them and take your cock into his mouth to suck you off, holding you steady at the base.
“J-Jaime, fuck—Peter!“ His mouth was warm, strangely comforting, and whimper inducing. You felt yourself sink onto your knees and lie pliantly as you let him take you, as you let Peter invade you with two more fingers; a total of four digits pumping inside of you now; though you made sure to lift your hips up to leave enough room for the man who’s been slobbering all over your erection.
If only you had eyes at the back of your head so you could witness Peter and Jaime touching themselves, so you could watch Peter’s mouth gape open when he slid his large lubed cock into as if he hadn’t done that countless times prior, so you could see how Jaime’s free-hand guided Peter’s hips to push further into you because they both were well-aware how accommodating your hole can be. It was a struggle to even fit the head of his cock into you, like you’d expected, but you were thankful for Jaime as he gave Peter the push he needed.
“Oh, fuck,” You strained, gathering yourself onto your forearms to toughen out the discomfort—practically planking—as Peter breached himself into you moaning at the tightness, then began moving his hips.
Slow and steady, you felt more of Peter residing into you with every thrust, rocking your own hips to thrust into Jaime’s mouth. It was a messy, interlocking of sweaty bodies, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better. Jaime’s tongued swirled around you, inhaling and working you with a greedy tongue. When he pulled off with an audible pop, you felt his saliva dripping off of the span of your cock in heavy webs, that were then used to lather up his own cock before rolling off the bed to stand before you. He tipped your head back, making you look up at him flushed and intoxicated from Peter’s quickening thrusts, and pushed his cock back inside your warm mouth in one smooth slide.
You didn’t know where to dispose your moans now that your mouth was filled. Once Peter efficiently picked up his pace, he steadied his balance with a firm grip on your hips; the left lag was braced on its knee while his right leg was heeled on the mattress, fucking his cock into you deeper with his new position.”Fuck, I could watch you take my cock all day.”
Your cheeks were hot as your moans ballooned nowhere but around Jaime’s cock. Whimpers and joyful noises vibrated around him as you sucked his cock off, and you’d occasionally lose your balance when you tried to stroke whatever you couldn’t fit inside of your mouth, but you caught yourself before you could fall flat onto your face. You didn’t want to waste a single second of not both of your holes filled.
“Fuck yeah, keep fucking him like that.” Jaime exhaled, reaching out to fist-bump Peter as there was a mutual indulgence the two provided for each other. His body was slick with sweat when you noticed droplets of heat running down his muscles. He pumped out a few puffs of breath when he fucked into your mouth quick and desperate, enveloping and pressing your head to his abdomen to keep you steady, to keep his cock from falling out of your mouth because you had a habit of pushing him out whenever he pushed past your limits. Your field of vision was basically hidden as you stared into nothing but Jaime’s trimmed pubic hairs, your passive mouth sore and hurting, and your cock was equally sore—dripping on its own accord now—because you found it so incredibly alluring to be used thoughtlessly like this; Peter selfishly driving himself into you, panting because he was close, and Jaime pushing back into your gags with eager ruts of his hips, a tolerance that you knew would have you sore tomorrow morning, but a fucking comfort to know that you pleasured the two men with your own body.
“Switch.” Peter and Jaime exchanged positions once they knocked out a low high-five. It was on your own terms to flip yourself onto your back in the meantime, hanging your head off the foot of the bed for Peter to mouth-fuck you while you bent your legs up to your chest in anticipation of Jaime. Peter cooed, petting your spit-wet cheeks before leveling himself to meet his cock to your lips, then pushing your mouth open. It was adorable to see how you knew your place without a single spoken demand. “Mm, fuck—Jaime kept you warm and nice for me.”
“Can say the same for you, Pete.” At nearly the same time, Jaime supported himself by using the back of your thighs as leverage, squeezing a glorious amount of lube over his cock before pushing into you. Within the first slide, you were reminded of how thick he was from the way you were too distracted to suck Peter off and let your mouth agape, croaking out a discomforting moan. “Fuck, he’s warm.” He didn’t waste to time in letting you adjust to his size, because—well—Peter did the work for you, and began burying himself deep and close to that certain spot that never failed to send tremors down to the bone of your body.
Jaime snapped his hips with precision, the loud claps of sweating skin snipping at each other being one audible evidence of his experience with you. Your thighs and ass rippled sharply, then your muscles stretched as he pushed forward to fold your knees to your chest and slot his cock into you with momentum, gravitational force pounding him down into you like ocean waves crashing onto shore. Every time his impact moved you an inch off the bed, he brought you back with a tug at your thighs because he needed to be close to you. He needed to watch you gag on Peter’s cock, your throat struggling to close around his girth when it was sheathed deep enough for Peter to bulge through. When it occurred, Jaime showered delicate kisses to the center of your throat, moaning when he could feel the span of Peter moving inside of you, and then feel your throat constrict when he pulled out in a slow slide to draw out your breath for a little longer, to watch you desperately inhale for fresh air.
“Do that again.” Jaime couldn’t resist his temptations, caressing your chest and stomach because it had been flexing the entire time Peter and him had been fucking into you. The darkest desires compelled him to roam his hand towards your neck and wrap it around while Peter buried himself down your compliant throat again, and he squeezed his hand around you, your eyes clenched following the added pressure, while your throat locked around Peter’s juicy cock. Your gags lodged, bubbly in agony because they had nowhere to escape, until Peter pulled himself out what felt like minutes away of seeing the stars, and you immediately spilled into desperate intakes of breath, panting yet moaning because you had never felt such an intense adrenaline rush in your entire life.
Dragging his balls across your face, Peter loved seeing you sexually tormented like this. Red in the face as the blood rushed to your head, delirious on the sole entity of cock, winded through staggered pants as he had you gagging down his cock as if he had a lifetime warranty on your throat. It was beautiful; your words slurred because you were too exhausted to form coherent sentences and he’d use that as leverage, asking you to repeat yourself knowing that he’d deprived you of oxygen. Almost always, despite the promise that he’d let you catch your breath, all of that is thrown in the gutter when Peter sheathed his cock back down your throat like a man who had been cut off of your services cold-turkey, returning back with a vengeance, and as a man who had become a fiend for pleasure.
Jaime and Peter cheered like frat boys you’d see in porn, laughed because you looked so adorable when you asked for a small break; your cheeks were guttered with tears and your voice scattered into puzzled cracks. It was hard to resist coddling you with praises and affectionate kisses, even had they turn up their demeanors to an eleven. You would always be someone they treasured.
“You did fucking great, (M/N), god…” Peter was awe-stricken, rewarding you with a kiss on the lips to breathe life back into you, briefly holding your head up so he could unfurl the clouds until they dissipated for the time being.
“Mmf…” You thought you were a lot stronger than this, but your muscled had turned into jelly. Jaime slowed his thrusts down when he noticed how limb you’ve gotten and he figured stroking your cock again would do wonders for your peace of mind. “Need…” You muttered something under your breath, and for a moment, the two men paused because they thought you’d had enough and wanted to stop.
“Hm?” Jaime did his best to control his hips, panting. Judging by the death grip on your hips, it was obvious he was nearing his climax.
“Need you two…” You groaned out, replacing Jaime’s hand with yours as you switched your gaze between Peter and Jaime, collectively begging for them with the yearning gaze in your eyes. “Need you two in my ass, fuck…”
“God, you know how to make a man happy.” Peter laughed, breathing a sigh of relief, and you swore his cock had grown bigger at the simple thought of sheathing himself inside of you again. “Up, up.” You lifted yourself with the help of Jaime’s embrace when Peter positioned himself under you, and then Jaime lifted your legs up and hooked them over his shoulders, angling your ass out just right after pulling out.
Jaime did most of the work as he was the only one kneeling, whistling an impressive note when your gaping hole was exposed to him, and for his viewing only. “If only you could see this, Peter.” He prepped you and Peter with a generous amount of lube, then himself, chuckling as he stroked himself to the expanded opening of your hole. “We stretched him out real good.”
“Fuck, won’t be too difficult to fit us in then.” It was a rhetorical question that you knew the answer to, and you could feel Peter mischievously smiling into the back of your neck as if he told the funniest joke in the history of mankind.
Peter’s arms traversed around you, his palms reaching to hold your ass open while Jaime intruded into you first. The lube made his entrance a lot easier than the first time and you immediately welcomed his meaty cock with a tight suction, holding his thrusts as you felt the bulbous tip of Peter’s cock prodding around for a gateway into you.
It was a slow and methodical approach. For them, it was more important for you to feel comfortable instead of potentially letting the consequences of rushing everything ruin your experience.You felt flustered, overwhelmed, and your body followed in pursuit as you felt a stretch you’d never dealt with before. The hairs on your body stiffened. Heat spread throughout your body in hot splotches and left your cock limp and flaccid, spidering from beneath layers of skin until goosebumps raised from the sweat when you felt Peter trying get inside of you.
“Peter—oh, fuck—“ Your voice caught in your throat as you tried to open up for him despite the buzzing pain. You were pacified, and then encouraged by the deft of Jaime and Peter’s comforting hands. A pair of Jaime’s calloused hands ran over your legs, then thighs, then stomach, all over your body, to get you to relax your muscles. Another pair massaged your thighs, Peter’s; he whispered sweet and calming encouragements in your ear, dousing the strain of your neck in tiniest kisses while he attempted another push to fit himself in.
“Let me in, come on… We’ll take care of you.” Peter never lied. You trusted him. You trusted him to not hold it against you if you couldn’t. If you decided to stop because it was too painful. You let out a few nervous breaths, your stomach flexing, and then came Jaime, rallying your will with wet yet delicate kisses, just the way you liked it, as a way to distract you. Little by little, you felt yourself give in, your muscles slacking the more they touched you everywhere, including your cock again. Your body was burning with heat not because of apprehension, but because they couldn’t take their hands off of you. You felt deified, like a god as Peter clamped his lips around your neck, his strong hands kneading at your ass, while Jaime moaned into your mouth, electrified by the sweet taste of your wet tongue.
You breathed.
You met Jaime’s gaze, then turned to kiss Peter on the lips after meeting his, moaning as Jaime began thumbing the head of your cock.
You trusted them.
Your mouth alternated from Peter’s to Jaime’s in a heavy and tense session. Greedy tongues reaching for whatever was laid before them, and you were sure Jaime and Peter briefly made out because they were so fucking lost in the heat of it all. Their passion and lust had poured a newfound energy into you within a cycle of heavy kisses. Tongues worshiped your body from the neck and shoulders down, and you felt weightless.
And you let Peter in.
Slowly, your hole stretched to accommodate the incoming cock, and you let out the most heart-swelling and cock-hardening groan when you felt the fattest part of Peter’s glans breached you, then a yelp when the entire cock-head slipped inside of you abruptly.
“There we go, shh…” Peter’s hand ran down your arms, a sincere attempt to stabilize and calm the trembles in your body. His lips remained attached to the shell of your ear, whispering words that had gone from one ear, scrambling letters into gibberish in the process, and then out the other. “Slowly…” Peter said, more so to remind Jaime, and he nodded with assurance.
They gave you a second to recover while you held tight to Jaime’s shoulders. Sweat trickled down your chest, your spine, framed your forehead in droplets, as you rode the wave of pain. After subsiding the gut-wrenching pain with a few deep breathes, you gave them a nod, giving them the pass to continue.
“Fuck,” Jaime wished you didn’t press your face into his neck as you were sandwiched between the two of them. There was nothing more attractive than watching you suffer, as morbid as it sounded. He thought you looked beautifully broken, sounded beautiful too as you whimpered when either one of them moved their hips. With slow and methodical ruts, they gradually felt you relax with the occasional jerks. Peter’s cock slipped deeper into you when Jaime thrusted out, and gradually, they found a rhythm that worked for your comfort, opening you, stretching you out as their cocks rubbed stiffly against one another. “Feels so good—“
“You’re amazing, baby.” Peter assured you, a motivation for you to loosen your muscles again. He held your ass apart to ease their combative motions in, and once you let go through the careful and spoken truths that Jaime and Peter kept praising you with, the fear that you had latched onto and kept vaulted in the rigid of your body seemingly had been let go—thrust by thrust, you felt yourself opening up and things got much easier for you.
You panted, shoving yourself down and back so you were fully impaled on the cocks fucking you, confronting your fear and winning for Jaime and Peter. You have two cocks inside of you, taking two cocks whole, fucking your tight hole and spreading you open. You reminded yourself because it felt like a dream, whimpering when Jaime began going balls deep with every thrust, and Peter would follow in pursuit, holding your weight up and your ass open.
Finally, you felt your cock harden again; the span of it springing into a familiar mass, taunting Jaime to move faster as your cock throbbed when he came down onto you, then a few dribbles of precum leaked when Peter came up. They let out a moan when they met in sync, occasionally fucking you with their cocks as one big mass, their voice rattled with rapture because you were taking them in so well, so inviting despite your ability to clench and hold around them. You don’t, because you were fucking free, wiggling your hips without a thought, without a single rhythm in debt to your ass, and the only beat you follow was the sound of your heart as it began to accelerate.
You can hear it soar, decibels rushing loud and alarming in your ears as they fucked and fucked more into you. Cocks rubbed as one, then Peter would purposely delay because he loved burying himself into you as a single unit, grounding your hips to him because you were his first, and you heard shards of spirit break into a gazillion pieces, a barrier that had protected your sanity.
All of that had exploded, fireworked itself into shooting stars when Peter doesn’t waste a second to pound up into you, his breath fogging the back of your neck, then your shoulder when he hooked over his chin to kiss you again, swallowing your whimpers to turn them into his own delectable moans.
Forget holding your legs back, Peter abandoned them and you were on your own, your limbs relying on your own core strength as you struggled to hold them up, while his cock drive madly into you, Jaime’s chasing after in equal, heavy ruts.
“I’m gonna cum—fuck.” You huffed, closing your eyes because you were so close. You felt yourself getting closer relying on the thought that you hadn’t even touched your cock because you were so distracted, so well-fucked that you didn’t need to be touched.
Like that, just like that, keep fucking me like that. And just like that, you cried out and your cock throbbed once, signaling a fountain of cum that would then shoot out of you like lava seconds after, and your pucker would clamp around their cocks moving inside of you, pounding into you. Thick ropes of cum landed over your chest, then on your face when the impact of their thrusts was forceful enough to give it some height, and your hole throbbed around their joined cocks because you relieved yourself with a throat-cutting shudder, goosebumps returning back to form from head to toe.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Jaime repeated himself, fucking into you harder, deeper, faster. You felt his heavy pants on your chest when he leaned down to taste your cum, and then witnessed his eyes roll back when the taste was heavenly, a creamy merit that made the ache in his back worth it because you tasted so fucking good. You looked so fucking good, exhausted and melted, taking two cocks in you at once without a single complaint.
“Fuck.”
Jaime’s hands gripped your hips harder, and he let out a deep groan, burying his thick cock deep into you as he came. The weight of Jaime’s strong pulses drew multiple moans out of Peter, bursts of pleasure inflicting on the latter as he fucked into the hot flood of cum, fucking you sloppily with his cum-lathered cock, fucking alongside Jaime’s sensitive and swollen glans, vaulting it from leaking out of you.
It wouldn’t be long until Peter was triggered to let loose as well and spare you of his own thick loads with a raspy groan. He snapped his hips upwards once when he came, then delivered another hard snap to push out multiple strong and thick loads, and then another for good measure, because he was obsessed with how it felt to have his cock drowning in the creamy and warm mixture of his cum and Jaime’s. Your pucker throbbed, both of them completely breached inside of you to the hilt of their cocks, and your ass felt so fucking full—so fucking raw—knowing that you were double-stuffed with endless streams of their cum loads.
“Guys…” Your voice trembled, your muscles giving out as your legs dropped from fatigue, but they wouldn’t stop moving their cocks in you, sloshing their thick cum inside of you. Once your legs dropped, you felt a river of cum dribbling out of you, cold in its journey out of your ass, and you shivered despite being sandwiched by two warm bodies. “Mmf, tired…”
One by one, they slipped out of you. Peter first, whimpering because he rubbed his sensitive cock against Jaime’s during its removal, making him twitch and shudder. Then Jaime, unwilling at first because you were so warm, but nonetheless unsheathed himself out because he was curious.
You didn’t know what they were doing, nor did you care, because exhaustion had caught up to you, reminding you that you barely had slept the night before, and now the physical strain on your body only added more to the overwhelming drive it could barely handle. You rolled flat on your stomach, nose-dived into the pillows, and then whined because a pair of hands wouldn’t stop kneading at your ass, spreading them wide open for your hole to expose itself.
And when you looked back over your shoulder, Jaime and Peter had their phones out, snapping photos of your violated hole; gaping and raw, and breached as cum was spilling out of it like a leak. It was the fucking hottest thing for them, mouth-watering, and when you scoffed and scanned their sweaty bodies, you swore their dicks twitched.
“You fucking rockstar.” Peter laughed, love-tapping your asscheek before joining you by your side. His hand never left your ass, a strong urge to relieve the pain, if you still had any, with comforting rubs and squeezes.
“Didn’t hurt you too much?” Jaime asked, smoothening his palm along your spine.
You silently shook your head, murmuring. “It was a good bonding exercise, don’t you think?” They laughed, and for a brief moment, Peter and Jaime exchanged a cordial look towards each other, approving the other with a firm nod.
“To new beginnings.”
Jaime joined you from behind, feeling an arm traverse from under your stomach, and pulled you closer until you were on your side and he was spooning you. You could hear both of their heartbeats running at full pace, then slowing as they sank their heads into the pillows, their breathing becoming shallow as they were just beginning to recover from their exertions. Gradually, Peter’s hand stopped rubbing your ass and after you looked back to see if Jaime was asleep, so was Peter, drifting off with a warmth that you wished would stick by you for eternity.
“To new beginnings...”
nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!
#✰ : nou.fics#peter parker x male reader#jaime reyes x male reader#peter parker x reader#jaime reyes x reader#peter parker x you#jaime reyes x you#peter parker x m!reader#jaime reyes x m!reader#peter parker x y/n#jaime reyes x y/n#peter parker fic#jaime reyes fic#peter parker fanfic#jaime reyes fanfic#x male reader#male reader#male reader insert#bottom male reader#x reader#x you#jaime reyes fanfiction#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter x you#tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter x y/n#m!reader#x m!reader#x y/n#✰ : nou.peterparker
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just practice | simon "ghost" riley
aka you're the first pussy ghost eats
tags: fem!reader, oral sex, smut, 18+
Caramel eyes flicker over you. Nonchalant, a little dazed. As if he doesn't care about the admission he has just let slip. His fingertips are digging into the soft pad of your breast; reddened skin where he'd just been sucking lazily.
"…Never?"
Though, maybe it's not such a surprise. This man, often coming to you dripped in the scent of residual gunpowder, seems to crave touch as much as he leans away from it. Kissed you for the first time only after flinching away. Preferred taking you from behind. Kept his clothes on each time you fucked so that only his cock, hands, and the crescent of his hips gave away any skin.
Despite this, he was a giving lover so far. He'd learned after just a few times that you liked his mouth to your nipples. Squirmed, even more, when he bared his teeth to them. You liked his fingers to your clit at the same time as his cock to your cervix. He paid attention, studied you. You'd noticed in the past month of these heated exchanges that he would glance at your cunt and marvel at it. A silent gospel. But never, not yet, has he placed his mouth there.
"I'm not going to repeat myself."
His hand is dipped in the plush of your cunt. It's been lingering there for some time, fingering you slowly, inviting a slickness. This is a rare moment where he's truly taking his time with you. Not so rough, a little more curious. He'd collected some of your arousal and brought it to his lips. Furrowed brows as he tasted them; went back for some more. Until finally, you touched the back of his mask and murmured: You can eat me out if you want.
To which he cleared his throat and offered a gruff truth.
He’d never done that before.
Now—
"Well, do you want to try it?"
Ghost studies your eyes. Looks for any signs of jest.
Then, his hand slips from your cunt and leaves it pitifully unattended for a moment. He grips your legs, and parts them purposefully. Takes his time situating himself between them. You almost get impatient but you realize: this is a first for him. You owe him patience.
He inches his mask a little higher, the fabric bunched at the end of his nose.
Ghost gives a firm kiss to your inner thigh, a little bite, before drifting his gaze up at you.
You touch his shoulder. "This is just practice, don't worry."
"M'not worried."
With a grunt, he locks his arms around your thighs and drags you a bit closer to his exposed chin, roughly now, earning him a little squeak from you. It's the heat of his breath that you feel first, your mouth normally the victim of its assault. If there's one word to label Ghost, it's warm. His lips: they just barely brush over your clit. Already, a pleasurable fever ensues. The blood rushes straight there until you're puffy for him.
Rough: his other norm. But right now he's curiously gentle. This is the first time he’s doing this because you are the first person to earn such intrigue from him, the deep inhale as he nudges his nose against your cunt evidence of that. He licks a slow, molten stripe over the entirety of your cunt, hole to your bud, and hums at the taste. Better from the source.
And then again.
"That's..." you swallow and try not to buck your hips, looking for something more. "Good. Just- maybe not so slow?"
"Greedy."
But he takes your request and adjusts, firmly placing his whole mouth over you. This time, curiosity replaced with concentration. A hymnal of licks and grazes and dripping saliva. He's not sure what to do, but he's mastered a mental block on all uncertainty: just does what his gut tells him. Usually his approach. He kisses you there like he kisses your lips, except pays a little more attention to that swollen, sensitive part of you.
"That feels good," you breathe some encouragement. "Can you just—“
You swallow thickly and prop yourself up on shaky elbows. Ghost lifts his head up and gives you a hazy look, lips plush and wet, before ticking up a brow.
"Jus' what?"
The sight of him like this, a new view, makes you lose your words. You search for them, panting, "Don't forget... lower, too. You can put your tongue inside."
He listens. Your head soon lulls back when you feel his tongue firmly press into you. One of his hands leaves your thigh to bring a thumb to your newly abandoned clit, giving skilled circles to the slick flesh. His tongue inside you figures it should mimic his cock, pumping in and out of you at a steady rhythm. He’s a quick learner; you’ll give him that.
Unsteady elbows give out beneath you and soon your head is back to the pillow. Your hole quivers around his tongue— he doesn’t relent. Just concentrates on both actions at the same time, reveling in the soft cage of your thighs against his exposed stubble. You moan and mewl. An arch of your back is the signal he earns to keep doing what he’s doing. Heels digging into his back, Ghost feels his shirt bunch up because you’re applying that much pressure.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he can’t stop himself from groaning into you. Voice raspy and muffled. If he knew you’d make these kind of sounds, he’d have given you his tongue sooner.
It’s messy and hot. Saliva mixed with your leaking; a concoction that’s not possible to separate.
Writhing, you grip some of his balaclava and whine out an order, “Simon… gimme your fingers!”
“Don’t fuckin’ whine,” he admonishes, digging his fingers into your thigh. “Ask right.”
A whimper. “Simon… can you give me your fingers, too?”
Abiding, he moves his tongue and replaces it with two fingers, an unforgiving shove that gets him all the way down to the knuckles. Your cervix pounded by blunt fingertips. Your warm, sopping walls are like velvet around his digits. Groaning softly, it’s just… so much. Ghost can feel your pussy begin to throb, wishing he could just take a second to sit back and watch you.
But he’s seen you cum a few times now. All your little expressions. He knows what it looks like when your lips curl inward to relieve some of the ecstasy; your eyes clamp shut. He simply imagines it while continuing his ‘practice’. Content to keep licking and nipping and fingering you.
“Atta girl,” he growls against your clit.
Any uncertainty has been doused by the clear approach of your orgasm. His roughness is here— a blistering smack to your thigh. A firm grip of your breast. Slaps it at the same time he curls his fingers and fucks into that soft pad of you.
Your moans have no end, no beginning.
They’re an endless string that fills the room as you buck your hips. Your walls clench, then flutter. Belly frothing with a white-hot release.
Ghost licks it up. Keeps his fingers moving to push you through it.
His novice tongue is still hungry, even though you’re stuffed. Breathlessly, your heels release the pressure on his back and your legs shake.
His eyes flicker up with a newfound obsession. Reeling from your orgasm, the continued onslaught teeters towards overstimulation. Your hand is lazily pushing at his head.
“You can…” in a constricted whisper. “…stop now.”
“Need some more practice, pet.”
#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x reader#cod#simon ghost riley#call of duty#fanfiction#ghost#smut#fem!reader
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ᴠɪʀɢɪɴ - ᴄʜʀɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ
summary: chris has always been your best friend until one night everything changes when you lose your virginity to him.
contains: smut, gentle chris, swearing, fluff.
———------------.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.-----------------——
chris and i tell eachother everything, i mean everything. we've been friends since the 6th grade and have no secrets, except for one. i'm a virgin. in my defence hes never really asked but its my biggest insecurity
its 11pm, me, nick, matt, chris and madi are sitting on the sturniolos couch, im cuddled against nick as matt and chris scroll on their phone.
madi is talking about a hookup experience right infront of us. ive never really hung out with her alone but she seems to overshare. a lot. "y/n, you know how when then finish they make strange ass noises?" she continues "mhm.." i lie, "but oh my god he was making demonic sounds like what the fuck" she says laughing.
after 5 more minutes of her talking, i feel humiliated, everyone else in the room except for me is laughing along with her and agreeing.
she wont stop.
i grab my phone then stand up off the couch, walking out of room in and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. i hear the living room go silent apart from a few whispers "chris go see whats wrong!" i hear nick say quietly and then shuffling, followed by 3 knocks on the bathroom door.
"y/n? you okay?" i hear chris say softly.
"please go away chris."
"im not gonna go away sweetheart, please talk to me." chris whispers through the door.
after a few minutes i unlock the door. chris opens it slowly to find me inside, eyes puffy from the few tears i shed. "oh y/n.." chris says sympathetically before pulling me into a hug, rubbing my back. "c'mon, lets go to my room so you can talk to me." he offers and i nod. he takes my hand as we open the door to his bedroom.
he sits down on the floor, resting his back against the side of his bed. i sit down next to him and lay my head on his shoulder.
i take a deep breath "im a virgin." i say bluntly, but quietly. he tenses slightly then nods understandably.
"and its fucking embarrasing when madis talking about fucking random dudes infront of me, its quite frankly humiliating." i continue "because im almost 21 and ive never done anything." i sigh.
an uncomfortable silence grows for a few seconds "this might be weird, and if you dont want to we can never talk about any of this again, but i could.." he pauses
"i could help..?" he says nervously
"help?" i repeat, slightly confused.
"i mean we've been best friends for like 9 years, i could y'know. teach ya? like platonically though." he says holding my hand.
another silence grows.
"okay!" i say nervously
"ok?" he whispers
"you can, lead the way?" i offer and he smiles.
he stands up, before leaning down and pulling me up by my wrists. we're both clearly nervous. "do i uh, have your like.. full consent?" he says concerned and i let out a small laugh "yes chris, you do, you're the person im most comfortable with."
he lifts his shirt off over his head, i blush, why am i blushing?
he throws his shirt to the floor before pulling mine off, revealing my white bra, which he quickly unclasps. he leans down and grabs my jaw, pulling me into a soft kiss. my heart rate increases as i realise this is chris, my best friend.
he picks me up by my ass and places me gently on my back on his mattress, the same one that we were giggling on yesterday. he pulls down my shorts, then my panties. leaving me revealed on the bed. he looms over me before pulling me by my thighs to the edge of the bed. he leans down between my thighs, his cold breath against my heat.
he drags his tongue all the way from my hole to my clit forcing a desperate moan out of me. "tastes so fucking good." he mumbles which causes me to squirm. he stands up and unbuckles his leather belt, letting it fall to the floor before he unbuttons his baggy jeans.
he stands in-between my legs in his boxers, it feels wrong, but so fucking right. "you ready baby?"
baby?
"im nervous chris, what if it hurts."
"dont be, it doesnt have to hurt, mhm?" he says reassuringly as he nods his head at me.
"i trust you chris.." i say smiling as he grabs the inside of my thigh "can you spread a little more?" he says and i comply.
after what feels like forever he pulls down his boxers slowly, letting his boner spring out, hitting his stomach. i instantly sit up in shock "chris-." i stutter as i look up at him
"you're okay, it wont hurt if you relax. ill go super slow hm?" he reasures and i nod.
"lay back down princess." he whispers.
i lay back down and reach for chris's hand, its always been a comfort thing for me and right now i need it more than ever.
his dick is strangely perfect.
i take a deep breath and squeeze chris's hand as his tip pushes against my entrance. he pushes slowly inside of me, giving me only an inch or two. "fuck you're so tight." he groans making my stomach flip. "you look so beautiful taking me mhm."
as he sinks deeper into me, his balls lightly pressing against my ass.
the same boy who i used to beg to play barbies with me is now balls deep inside of me.
im a moaning mess as chris giggles slightly
"what the fuck is funny chris" i say smiling
"your moans." he says nonchalantly as he starts to thrust, kissing my cervis each time
"shut up.." i say in between moans as i squeeze his hand tighter.
without warning he pulls out which causes me to immediately grab him and pull him closer "i didnt finish chris!" i say frustrated
"shh sh, i know i know, i want you to ride me. can you do that for me?" he says which almost makes me orgasm from his words.
"okay."
he lays down beside me and grabs my waist pulling me ontop of his so im sitting on his thighs. i prop myself up above his tip as he grabs my hips. i slowly sink down on him, feeling every inch of him filling me up. i moan loudly causing him to slam a hand over my mouth "shh." he whispers as i bounce up and down, i squeeze my eyes shut as my moans are muffled by his hand.
"y/n baby, im close okay? i want you to cum with me." he groans as i bounce faster on his cock
"you ready?" he says as his breathing becomes quicker. i nod as i clench around him, instantly making him release inside of me. i follow right after him as i collapse on his chest, he reaches a hand down pulling himself out of me.
he holds me tight against his chest, my breasts push against his hard chest while he grabs my ass. "you did so fucking good, so good." he whispers into my hair. "you want me to get you dressed baby?" he offers and i nod, sitting up on his stomach. he sits up and i slide off him onto his bed. as he stands up, he holds up my panties and shoves them in his pocket. before i have time to question it hes pulling me onto my feet.
he picks me up and slings me over his shoulder. i squeal as he keep a firm grip on my thigh. pulling my shorts onto me. he places me back down onto my feet and puts my bra on. "is this right" he says with a slight laugh "yeah surprisingly!!" i say with a wide grin before pulling my shirt on.
chris finishes getting dressed and plants another kiss on my lips "was that okay for you? i hope it didnt hurt" chris asks softly "yeah it felt.. really fucking good chris." i say wiping my eyes in embarrassment.
he grabs my hand and takes me into the living room. nick is looking at chris with disgust and everyones dead silent "did you guys just fuck." matt says breaking the silence and my heart drops to my stomach
"what.." i say defensivley
"the load ass moans?" nick yells angrily.
the silence grows as chris looks like hes seen a ghost as i look up at him
chris suddenly starts "she got her period, so i took her up to my room so she could grab some fucking.. products. she was crying, they may of sounded like moans to you but she was just upset." he lies so confidently straight through his teeth which almost makes me burst out laughing.
"so im taking her home alright?" chris continues.
"shit sorry guys." nick says embarrassed "see you tommorow y/n, feel better" matt says and i smile at him.
(4 weeks later)
"hey baby, i got you these!" chris says walking into my bedroom with flowers "for what exactly" i say laughing "one month anniversary dumb fuck." chris says giving me a kiss on my lips.
4 weeks ago when he dropped me off he confessed to me.
he said he'd liked me for a while now, as in 5 years.
i hated to admit it, but i had felt the same.———------------.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.-----------------——
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo x you#chris x reader
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"That's my girl, let it all out."
Xavier x Reader
CW: making out, handjob, PIV, kinda subby Xavier, creampie, cockwarming
"Show me how much you've missed me."
Xavier's breath was hot against your neck as he said those words. He would have his face glued there the whole night if it weren't for you looking so beautiful with your lipstick smudged and your chest almost bare except for the black lacy bra you wore today.
He had you straddling him, both your hands were steady on his shoulders. The heat of the moment swept the both of you away, it didn't even let you make it to the bedroom.
A couch is just as good as a bed for Xavier. He only ever needed you anyway.
"Touch me all over, Princess." He guided your hand and placed it on his chest.
"Xavier..."
If you say his name like that again he wouldn't be able to contain himself. His hips bucked up on their own just by hearing you say his name so intimately.
"Are you sure?" You asked.
He wasted no time connecting his lips to yours. One hand cupping your cheek and the other on your lower back, trying to pull you as close to him as possible.
"Please"
The answer was made clear by the urgency and desperation in the kiss.
Seeing him so needy gave you the final push to gain courage and take control.
Your hand slid down from his chest to his stomach. Just an inch above the waistband of his underwear.
"Want me to take it out for you?"
"Mhmm" Xavier couldn't even form words anymore. The way you look and sound right now was enough to make him cum.
He's even bigger than you thought he would be.
You slowly slid a finger down from the tip to the base, earning a soft moan from Xavier.
He was trying his best to be quiet and stay still but all he wants to do is to thrust in and out of you. He wants you to feel as good as he's feeling right now, with your gentle hands warming up his body and teasing his cock.
You finally wrapped your right hand around his cock and moved up and down, following a slow rhythm.
"Mmm feels really good" was all Xavier could say. If he opened his mouth again, the only sound that would come out are his moans.
His hand made its way to your hips and he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
You picked up the pace and moved your hand faster. Xavier's hips started to thrust along but you took your other hand and pushed him back down.
"Stay still for a little longer, okay?" His head was so close to yours that you only needed to whisper for him to hear you.
He obeyed. Not being allowed to move made Xavier more desperate. If he can't move then he won't keep quiet. It's not possible for him to stay still and quiet at the same time, not when your hands made him feel like he could burst any second now.
"More" He said before giving you a quick sloppy kiss. "I need more, please."
With your free hand, you took off your bra and guided his hands to your breasts. He immediately cupped and squeezed one with his hand while the other remained on your hip.
He gives you another kiss to muffle the loud moans coming out of him. You were so turned on by stroking his cock so you took it a step further and started grinding your soaked pussy against it.
Even through the fabric of your lace panties, he still felt good. His precum made your panties wetter than they already were.
"Can I put it inside, please?" Even when on the verge of losing his control and sanity, Xavier was still as polite.
You pull your panties to the side and slowly rub the tip just around the entrance.
"Fuck..." He groaned loudly, throwing his head back against the couch. His face was full of pleasure, you couldn't help but grab his face and look at him as he pants.
"Don't look at me like that." Xavier couldn't get those words out without moaning in between the words.
You let out a whimper as you slowly slid down his cock. "You can move now."
As soon as you said that, his hips started to move in a slow pace, trying to hold himself back from fucking you rough and hard. He can't do that just yet.
Xavier needed you to cum first. He needed to know what it would feel like with your walls clenching around his cock and making a big mess all over him.
"Fuck you feel so good" The mix of whimpering and panting from him is surely pushing you over the edge.
He could say the same about you. His eyes focused on your lips and how it moves as you let out soft moans.
"Xavier" You gasped as he brought his hand to your pussy, his thumb rubbing delicate circles around your clit.
"Cum for me. Don't hold back" Xavier's thrust got faster but still followed a steady rhythm. All you needed to do was to hover your hips over his and he did all the work.
"Yours. It's all yours, love. You just need to cum for me first, okay?" He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and craned his neck to look up at you.
"I want it inside."
The view of you panting and tearing up from the excessive lust and pleasure made his cock throb more.
"I'm really close." You whined, biting down Xavier's shoulders.
He continued to push up into your sensitive spot and it didn't take too long until you had an orgasm rippling through your lower abdomen, spreading across your whole body like soft flames the more Xavier thrusts in and out.
"That's my girl, let it all out." Xavier whispered and gave you soft kisses on your neck down to your shoulders as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. You were breathless and your legs started to wobble, prompting Xavier to hold you closer against him for support.
Now he can afford to be more selfish with you. He was already so close when you were teasing him but now he doesn't have to hold back.
Your pussy got slicker that it coated his whole cock and dripped down to the base, making such a lewd squelching sound every time he pounds up into you.
"You want it inside? Take all of it for me, yeah?" Xavier kissed you as he spilled his warm and thick cum deep in you. He couldn't bring himself to pull out. Not a drop is going to waste, it all belongs to you.
Both of you stayed in the same position to catch your breath. Your whole body was shaking and your senses were almost ripped away from you by the orgasm you just had.
His arms let go of your waist to cup your face, making you look into his eyes. Everything he has and everything he is, will always be yours for the taking. "I've missed you so much. Don't let go just yet."
#loveanddeepspace#love and deepspace#love and deepspace xavier#love and deepspace x reader#xavier x reader#smut#love and deepspace smut
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K so I loved your egg and dog, why not next a real kid. The cannibal kids, like the kids adore y/n when ever she comes to town to visit. They do multiple fun activities like makeing flower crowns or just somthing as simple as hopscotch!
(Proves y/n would be a good mom.)
Y/N would be a good mom!! I believe in her!!
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: Children in mild danger, Cartoonish antics, Reader wants children, Alastor being possessive, Sad implications
Description: 👆⬆️
Alastor likes taking you to Cannibal Town, he likes that everyone there loves you nearly as much as he does
He likes showing you off and letting Rosie brag about you for him
Because she totally brags about you, not letting Alastor get a word out to say it himself
And the children all listen to Rosie so they quickly turn their attention on you with sparkling eyes and grabby hands
And you are immediately enamored with them too, giving them tight squeezes and gentle pecks on their chubby cheeks
It's adorable that the children have taken such a shine to you, really it is
"Y/N! Y/N! Come play with us!"
"Alright~ Alright~"
Not the littlest one leading you by holding onto your finger
And the way you indulge them just makes his heart melt, watching you play along with their antics
You mend their clothes for them, bandage their boo-boos, bring them snacks so they aren't tempted to gnaw on each other
Or you
Plus it gives him time to chat with Rosie or shop for surprise gifts for you so he doesn't necessarily mind it
Except those kids never seem to run out of energy or get sick of your attention
Sometimes he finds you surrounded by them, all of you snuggled up together and relaxed
Are those flowers in your hair?
Yes, yes they are.
Or you'll seek him out, one child on your shoulders and another in your arms, both asleep
But your husband wants to take you home and get some snuggles with you for himself
And cannibal children are fucking ruthless when it comes to something they want so he has to get creative to get his wife back
"Here~! Have some scissors! Run as fast as you can with them~!"
"ALASTOR!"
"Oh fuck-"
They 100% fight back though, those children are smart and ruthless, quick to realize Alastor is competition
That's part of why he likes the cannibal children so much tbh
They will literally throw him in a well if it means spending five more minutes with you
It becomes a cartoonish war between Alastor and the children, one with little malice but many dangerous antics on both ends
With you in the middle
You even start to play along, picking different sides at random and turning things into a game
It's totally not an excuse to watch your husband play with children and it definitely doesn't make your heart ache
Once Alastor stops to realize how you're looking at him and sees how much warmth your gaze holds then he starts to understand something
Something that makes his heart throb a little but he tucks it away for when you two are alone
Alastor starts to join you in hanging out with the children after that, enjoying the maternal side of you more than he would care to admit
And seeing him act even remotely fatherly is obviously doing things for you so that's a bonus for him too
You two are constantly followed by a gaggle of children now, the two of you looking like duck parents
If you run into any of the overlords then Alastor will pit the kids against them, telling them to get their Aunty/Uncle
Bonus points if its Vox and they take off a piece of him and bring it back to Alastor
They love biting their Uncle Vox~
They even visit you two at the hotel sometimes, all of them storming the building and wreaking havoc until they find your room
Not all of them trying to sneak into bed with you two as silently as possible
Okay no-
He's going to start locking doors now
Go ahead, old man they'll just break them down
Alastor totally doesn't make them Charlie and Vaggie's problem afterwards just so that he can have some peace
More cuddles with his wife please
"Alastor...we should get the children home..."
"Five more minutes, my dear~"
How can you say no to him when he's kissing your neck like that?
Five more minutes
He's amused when you try to explain away the love marks on your neck and shoulders in a PG way
Kids ask the silliest questions, don't they?
You always sigh happily at the end of the day once the kids have gone home, leaning on your husband
You look tired but happy, Alastor committing the look to memory
He catches you staring at the kids fondly and looking at baby clothes a little more often
Maybe you hold a baby for a little too long, voice a little too thick with emotion
It's obvious to him that being around the children makes you happy but also makes you wish for something more
And all he wants is his wife to be happy
So maybe he should have that conversation with you that he's been putting off for awhile
Alastor isn't really a coward, but when it comes to difficult conversations with you, he's definitely reluctant
He doesn't like to see you get worked up and if the conversation goes where he thinks it's going to go then...you're gonna get upset
Waits until the two of you are snuggled up together in bed, his arm wrapped snuggly around you
You're nearly asleep, happily breathing in your husband's scent and lazily stroking his chest
"Y/N...do you want a family with me?"
Now you're wide awake
🥹🥺🥹 literally me after this
#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin x reader#alastor x reader#hazbin x reader
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oh my god, i dont know if you write for this specifically (feel free to disregard if you don’t), but I’ve been thinking about satosugu x reader,,, imagine kissing the both of them!! spending a nice summer day with them!! just being able to enjoy spending time with the two of them!! I dont know if its my love for both of these characters and their relationship, but i just like thinking abt that dynamic,,,
a/n: wrote this yesterday to upload today since it was a loaded day today ❤️ enjoy. hope it’s up to standard cause i havent written fluff in a long time! / 1.3k, poly!satosugu x reader
sleep-ins were popular amongst the three of you. before you, suguru had his own routine of waking up early to brew some tea for himself, to get the laundry going . .
satoru, on his own, was a light sleeper, sitting straight up at any hint of sound due to his sorcerer duties but after moving in with geto, he’s been letting the long-haired man to do all the work.
and here came you, waltzing back into their lives (and apartment) after teaching at kyoto for just a few months until you couldn’t stand gakuganji and headed right back to your alma mater.
it wasn’t difficult to maintain the dynamic the three of you had from your school days, except maybe unspoken feelings and lingering glances until the two men were gassing each other up to ask you.
you’re not even sure how you even got roped in — old feelings, a crave for the younger days, the allure of satoru, the wonder of suguru — but now you’re stick in between both of them wanting to pee so badly.
alas, your body is trapped under gojo’s protective leg and geto’s gentler wrapped arm, but you still feel your bladder about to burst, trying one last time until your body is slammed back into bed.
“hm . . what’re you doing?” is gojo’s first raspy call out to you as he curls his calf around you even more, and you sigh, turning to him to brush his fringe from his face.
“i need to pee, satoru.”
“no.” and you roll your eyes because he’s always whiny like that and you’d usually employ suguru to do your bidding but he’s fast asleep, still. this was another thing: both you and gojo have inextricably fucked with his routine because now he’s more inclined to sleep in than drink his morning tea. he realised this one day when he was doing laundry, in the afternoon.
“’toru, pleeaasee?” you pout even if he can’t see and like a good boyfriend, he senses your features pulled into a face specifically meant to make him feel bad, and cracks his eyes open.
“oh, youuuu—” gojo scrunches up his eyes and squeezes, and then steals you from geto’s arm, trapping you with tight arms wound around your middle, “stop it with the eyes!”
you giggle, using your free hands to relax the tightness in his brows, using that opportunity to forcibly open his eyes and then you hit him again — knitted eyebrows and doe eyes, and a perfect pout that has gojo grumbling under his breath. silently, you wiggle yourself just enough to reach his face so you can place a peck on his lips and he hums.
another, his eyes say and you indulge him, sinking into his embrace and letting him guide you back to his mouth. morning breath is nothing to the both of you, grinning into the kiss when satoru loses himself and his embrace starts to loosen. the kiss still holds you captive, though, the other moaning softly when you deepen it with some tongue.
“you’re just going to leave me hangin’?” geto’s voice calls out from beside you, and gojo’s excited suguru! gives you just that sliver of time to slip away from the two as they catch up but—
“you’re not going anywhere, missus,” gojo pulls on your arm and you’re falling back into your space in the middle of the both of them, greeted with geto’s lovely laugh and his gentle gaze.
“good morning my loves,” he says, arm draped over the both of you before he leans down to give you a kiss while gojo replies with a good morning as well, also giving a peck to your temple. “what’s on the agenda today?”
“lazing in—”
“i need to pee, firstly,” you pipe up, cutting gojo off and patting his puffed out cheeks. grabbing his face, you wiggle his head just to emphasise your point, “your man here has been preventing me from going to the bathroom.”
“ahem! our man,” gojo corrects, sticking his tongue out just enough to lick your hand and you shriek in disgust while his giggles only fill the room.
“satoru, c’mon, let her go.” and again, the other only cuddles you closer to him, long, lanky limbs trapping your body. geto has a hand on yours like he’s trying his best to console you.
“but— she’s so much nicer to cuddle! did i ever tell you suguru once hit me in the face with his arm?”
and you laugh while the other only sighs and chaos erupts once he stands up and says in faux disappointment — “okay, i’m making breakfast for myself only. guess i lost two partners today.”
“hello?! i didn’t even do anything!” you shout in incredulity, words muffled once gojo slaps a hand over your mouth and laughs, watching through the bathroom mirror at how he chuckles at the both of you. you lick gojo’s hand and he moans obnoxiously.
geto did end up making the both of you some breakfast after some convincing (it was mostly gojo yelling “pleasepleaseplease” in the bathroom and interrupting brushing teeth time), but he’s got around it with a sloppy kiss given to the both of you, sat at the wooden table you commissioned — large enough to bring friends over but small enough for it to feel intimate with your two boyfriends.
“on the real agenda, we need to go for some grocery shopping,” geto suggests, reaching diagonally to you to wipe off the bits of strawberry lingering at the corner of your lips and gojo shouts a loud oh!, running from the table to grab his phone that he’s left on the bedside table. naturally, he has become so enamoured with the both of you that he doesn’t even need his phone to entertain him that much.
“i made the list like you asked, sugu,” and you’re giggling when you see his eyebrow raise, positive that on the list, there was more of what the house didn’t need than what it did.
silently, you’re helping to clear all three of your plates that had coatings of maple syrup on it, apart from gojo’s who licked his squeaky clean. a smile spreads across your face when you hear them bicker, a common occurrence.
“baby, there’s more candy than actual groceries on here.”
“but suguruuuu . .” gojo pulls this all the time and it hardly works on geto any more, so the both of them invade your cleaning escapades to argue. like the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other, satoru sucks up to your boyfriend, suguru appeals to you.
“should we listen to him?” leaning against the counter, geto rests his arm around your torso, sidling right up to your face who only gives him a small grin.
gojo follows suit. “sweetness, don’t listen to him. you know you love the sweets i buy, i’ll even buy you your favourite brand!”
here in this kitchen in the house that gojo had no problem expanding to accommodate the both of you were all that you know in this mess of a world, destined to exorcise curses for as long as you live, but it wasn’t so bad when you had the strongest duo beside you, talking over each other on whether meiji chocolate was more important than buying celery for tonight’s dinner.
“boys.” turning off the tap, you shake off the water and turn around in their arms only to see what had escalated: geto ready to summon a curse, gojo crossing his fingers in his muryōkūsho pose, all the while keeping an arm around you like everything’s fine. and as chaotic dating the both of them were, you don’t mind putting both their hands down and calming the situation down.
with a laugh, you give one kiss to both cheeks. “let’s just buy both, okay?”
and satoru leaps to hug you, planting endless kisses on your face while suguru sighs, then smiles, defeated. “plus, we can just make ’toru pay for everything, can’t we?”
“and then make him cook tonight.” you suggest, not-so-quietly.
gojo stops, “hey!”
i didnt write the grocery shopping part since i alr rambled off about it here but maybe next time we’ll see :)
#satosugu x reader#suguru x reader#gojo fluff#geto fluff#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#geto suguru#geto x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#getou fluff#getou suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#satoru gojo x reader
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!!! geto hate fuck turning into something really damn passionate! reader repeatedly moaning apologies until geto had given us a bath of his warm cum <3
ONE MORE, ONCE MORE.
⟣ note. listen this turned out way toooo detailed than what i had expected it to be HLPP i got lost in the story irlly just wanted to make this a 100 word drabble oopsies
⟣ tags. mean dom / ex!geto suguru x female reader. smut. hate fucking, mention of slapping, creampie, dirty talk; degradation, name calling; ‘slut’, spriiinkle of overstimulation, slight size difference, uhh dumbification once i think.
all you did was throw non-stop insults at him — about his attitude, abilities, skills. . . maybe his choice of clothing too. well, that last one was purely added due to your own pettiness.
the heated argument had started when you came over to your ex-boyfriend’s house to pick up the last few items you had left there before the break up. the reason of why you two decided to go off against one another was long forgotten.
that was solely due to the underlying tension between you two. there was something about seeing suguru in such a furious mood that was extremely attractive — he secretly had the exact same thoughts about you too.
the sexual tension seemed to peak once suguru had stopped your hand from coming in touch with his face. it was intended to be a slap to the face out of frustration, however nothing came out of it.
. . maybe except for the fact that you were the one getting slapped now—though in a more sexual way;
“sorry? yeah, hah, too fuckin’ late.” suguru spits whilst keeping your wrists pinned above your head, hips ramming against yours, throbbing cock now balls deep inside you, “should’ve taught twice before catching an attitude with me, sweetheart.”
oh, he was livid. that ‘sweetheart’ didn’t hold its usual sweetness. it was filled with spite, though just a crumble of longing laid underneath. as if he missed you — as if he still yearned for you.
“‘m sorry, sorr—sorry, suguru !” you mewl. that’s all you could manage to do under the grasp of that man as he had you pinned to the couch in the living room, your face a crying mess from both the argument and the turn of events.
one thing about suguru that you did certainly miss was the way he could pleasure you. he did it so well, so precisely—no other man you had been with could ever compare. it’d be a lie to say that you weren’t glad your little visit turned out like this;
“ah, fuck—missed seeing your pretty face like this,” suguru whispers under his breath, lips grazing against yours for a single second. it was enough to leave you stunned and even more embarrassed. exactly what he was trying to accomplish, “missed seeing you cry, drool and beg for my cock. missed seeing you being a little slut for me.”
your nails were digging onto suguru’s triceps, teary eyes looking at him like you were begging him to help you reach your climax — for him not to stop once you were so close to that point of no return. you knew your ex had a thing for edging you, though that’s the last thing you want right now.
not when this felt so right. the way suguru was fucking you was rough and harsh, like he was outing his frustrations on you, but it also slowly started to turn into something more passionate. seeing your tears, hearing your sobs and your pleas definitely made suguru soften up a bit more.
it was almost like he was back to his usual self; the soft and gentle boy you had met in high school. it didn’t seem like the suguru you had broken up with; the guy whose ideals clashed with yours.
“fuuuuck, ‘m sorry, suguru—promise w-won’t say anything like that anymore !” you try and beg once more, though were quickly shut up when suguru went in for a kiss. you instantly melt, not caring about any consequences in this moment—not when he’s fucking you so well. treating you so well.
his tongue invaded your mouth for a couple seconds, groaning at the feeling, before pulling away with a small grin. his harsh thrusting motions eventually turn into gentle yet frustrating grinding ones. he drove his cock into your sopping wet cunt so extremely slow that it made you beg once more.
“shh, shh. don’t overuse that little brain of yours and just cum for me, yeah? that’s all i need you to do, darling.” suguru encourages with a cocky yet sweet smirk.
he was proud that he still had it; the power and skills to drive you insane with pleasure and satisfaction. especially when he was grinding into you ever so slowly, tip grazing against your cervix with each motion.
you were right at the edge of euphoria; almost there. as was suguru, which was obvious due to the increased intensity of his hip movements, switching once more to fierce thrusts. the coil in your stomach was threatening to snap—
“mnhh, can’t wait to fill that pretty pussy again.” the dark-haired man teases through a series of grunts, already imagining the perfect picture: your cunt overflowing with that familiar sticky liquid, watching it dribble out of you.
claiming you as his. even if you weren’t anymore, suguru still had the urge to. he needed - no - desired you back. he wanted to show you those feelings and thus decides to do exactly that by finishing your little session in the best way possible,
“oh, fuck!”
whilst you were still babbling incoherent apologies, suguru had already given up on holding back. he swore to have never released so much. ever.
the warmth filling your insides was a sensation you hadn’t thought you’d have missed this much. you gasp and finish yourself off solely due to the feeling of suguru’s cum spreading in your womb.
“. . . i missed this — i missed you.” your ex-boyfriend sighs and collapses on top of you, not even bothering to pull out. you instinctively wrap your arms around his back and keep him there.
suguru doesn’t protest and just rests his head next to yours, kissing your cheek gently. a simple peck, yet it was filled with emotion.
“missed you too.” you reply quietly. it stays silent like that for a while. there was no need to speak any more—not when the silence spoke volumes;
neither of you seemed to be in the mood to separate from each other. not again.
#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader#jjk smut#geto x reader#geto smut#jjk fic#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#THIS S SO BADashhesveh
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Bumper to Bumper - A.H
a/n: this is so self-indulgent i am probably the worst fucking parker you've ever seen it's wild & i also just watched a vid of mgg parking someone's car and went feral so there's that
‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧
pairings: aaron hotchner x reader (i don't think there is any use of pronouns just nicknames like honey)
warnings: none? rough day, reader is beefing with parking, tooth-rotting fluff
wc: 800
"Hotchner," came his voice, rough like sandpaper across the line, as you fought back the swell of tears, your lower lip caught in the anxious trap of your teeth.
Your eyes fixed on the parking spot before you, the very sight of it forming a lump in your throat as your frustration mounted. The morning had unfolded like a series of unfortunate events--your coffee machine had sputtered its last, your favorite book left forgotten on the porch to be ruined by the rain, and now, this parking spot seemed to mock you, its yellow lines almost pulsating with contempt.
Your hand glided across your dampened cheek, exhaling a shaky breath as you juggled the phone between your ear and shoulder. "You know, I don't think I've said this enough, but you're an exceptional boss. Honestly, you're—"
You sensed the sigh in his breath before he spoke. "What do you need?"
"I know I'm late," you managed to get out, a small hiccup halting your sentence as you did everything in your power to avoid crying, but the waver in your voice gave you away. "But I have a good reason--"
Once more, he stopped you mid-sentence, as he often did. "Where are you? Is everything okay?"
"I'm fine, it's silly."
"If something's wrong, I want to hear it. What's happening?"
"I just... I can't seem to park my car," you choke out, cheeks aflame with mortification. "I've been trying and failing, over and over, it's embarrassing. The spot's too tight, and of course, it's the only one left because 'M late."
"Hold on, I'll be right there," he said, and the line went dead.
You were left staring at your phone, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over you. You cringed, feeling smaller with each passing second, knowing he was swamped with work and here you were, unable to perform the simplest task of parking a car.
The moment you saw him step out of the building, your racing heart began to slow, his presence alone easing the knot of anxiety in your chest. He approached and opened the driver's door, and you were suddenly spilling over with apologies, the traces of tears still evident on your cheeks.
He looked at you with a gentleness that melted away the last of your defenses, reassuring you with a simple. "It's okay. I got it."
He took your place behind the wheel and parked the car with ease. As you stood there, you realized how his unwavering steadiness had become a pillar you leaned on more often than you'd like to admit.
As he stepped out of the car, you approached, your voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you, and I'm sorry. I know it's such a small thing..."
He gave a slight sigh, one that seemed to brush away your concerns, a hint of a smile in his eyes and said, "There's nothing to apologize for. Don't be so hard on yourself," he reminded you gently, his hand coming to rest on the soft of your shoulder.
A silent nod was all you could muster as you lifted your gaze to meet his. Your eyes were still red-rimmed from crying, and your nose, slightly pink from the number of tissues you had abused this morning. In a soft plea, you murmured, "Can I have a hug?"
Without a word, he simple open his arms, an unspoken invitation that you immediately accepted. As you nestled into his arms, your body relaxing as you inhaled his familiar scent. A soft sniffle escaped you as Hotch quietly said, "Five senses..."
You closed your eyes and focused on the sensory details--the comforting touch, his reassuring voice, the sight of his concerned gaze when you opened your eyes, the taste of the air mingled with his cologne, and the grounding scent of him. As your breathing evened out, he gently placed his hand on the pulse point at your neck, counting your heart rate in his mind.
You stepped back, a sheepish grin spreading across your face. "I suppose driving school is next on my training agenda?"
Hotch's expression softened into a subtle smile. "I'd agree, considering I just got you that car, I'd prefer it if you got the chance to enjoy it first before crashing it," he teased back lightly. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.
"Promise."
Hotch glanced at his watch, a decision forming in his eyes. "I think I can free up some time later. How about we get you another copy of your book?"
As your smile broke through the clouds of your frustration, it was as if the sun had pierced through the overcast sky of his day, bathing him in a light he never wanted to leave. "Really?" you responded, practically glowing with delight.
Hotch's heart swelled at the sight, feeling lighter than he had in ages. Gently, he cupped your face, drawing you closer to plant a tender kiss on your forehead. "I love you, honey," he said, his voice a low rumble.
You giggled, a little surprised by the public display of affection, you blushed, responding with a shy, "Love you too."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds fic#aaron hotchner fic#hotch#hotchner#criminal mind x reader#criminal minds#thomas gibson#thomas gibson x reader#Spotify
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moonlight sonata- a joel miller x reader
summary: entranced by your enigmatic history professor, you can't help but feel like he's hiding something from you. is it really that crazy to think that joel miller might actually be.... a vampire?
warnings: no use of y/n, teacher x student relationship, vampire!joel, professor!joel, student!reader, no outbreak!au, hefty age gap, a self-indulgent vampire fic i'm not even gonna lie, and of course smut (biting, desk fucking, pussy eating, period sex, fingering, finger sucking, some dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, etc.)
The rocky shore line raged alongside the whistling storm, brazen waves slapping and slamming against the rocky coast with each crack of lightning. The stone covered castle far off the outskirts of the small, hidden university was mostly shrouded in the darkness of night, except the flickering of a candle light at the highest window.
With each tick tock of the clock, the rain continued its journey on through the evening, painting the green grass with its wet dew. You cursed yourself for making an appointment with your history professor on this day of all days, annoyed that the weather decided to act up on this particular Wednesday, as if the storm hadn't been brewing for days on end.
As you walked along the cobblestone path, the moon slowly clawing up the canvas of the sky, your mind wandered to thoughts of him.
Joel Miller. Dr. Joel Miller. Professor Joel Miller. He didn't mind what he was called, as long as they got the "Joel" part right.
He was an enigmatic as he was handsome: charming, intuitive, mysterious, quiet. Every time you thought you were getting over him, he did something to draw you right back in. The flash of a smile sent directly to you during a test, a gentle brush of his fingers across your shoulder, a comment made on a well-written paper of yours- he knew just what to do to keep you tight on the line of his fishing hook. Whether he knew what he was doing, well... that was another question entirely.
You had asked to meet him after his office hours because of a particularly jarring comment he left on one of your papers.
Your research on Medieval Romanian folklore demonstrates commendable dedication and insight into the complexities of nocturnal life and the myths associated with it. However, I urge you to exercise caution in your interpretations, as some observations may lead you down paths best left unexplored. Remember, curiosity can be both a blessing and a curse.
Since you read what he wrote, you haven't been able to get it out of your head.
Weeks of research on Romanian folklore, specifically that of vampires, had left you questioning and guessing a multitude of previously learned lessons. You felt crazy, waking up in the dead of night because you felt eyes on you, the lingering kiss of a pair of sharp teeth ghosting against the soft skin of your neck. And, even more crazy -admittedly- you found yourself studying Professor Miller even more closely after his comment.
He only held his classes in the evening, his office hours were far later than any other professor, and you could always see his office light flickering on throughout the night, a beacon of hope you could look out to from your dormitory, when you were jerked awake by nightmares of monsters sucking your blood dry, their sharp fangs biting in to your supple flesh as though you were their first meal in centuries.
And yet, despite the pieces of evidence you had collected over the past few semesters, you still felt like you were on the brink of insanity for even thinking about believing such a preposterous myth. Especially one that involved Joel Miller, your favorite professor.
Despite this, you longed to talk to him about that cryptic message he wrote, so you swallowed your doubts and fears and garnered up enough courage to meet up with him.
By the time you reached the thick wooden door of his office, you could barely breathe, soaked to the bone as your clothes clung to your skin, droplets of rain clinging to your skin like smears of oil paint on a canvas.
You didn't have to knock for the iron hinges of the door to swing open with a loud creak.
"Professor!" Your surprise rocked through you, eyes widening as he caught you right on time.
"Hello. I knew you were on your way up." He looked down at you, his burly build towering over your own, and beckoned you inside.
Dr. Miller's office was cold, so cold that your skin raised with goosebumps as you slowly made your way inside. The wallpaper was old and floral, ripping at the edges of the corners of the walls, and the gothic architecture of the ceiling was tall and made of stone, providing even more of a chill in the already frigid room.
His desk was dark and made of solid mahogany, an absinthe lamp standing proud in the corner, as various candles flickered throughout. Rows of books lined the shelves, all of them old and leather bound, filling the office with the musky and comforting smell of aged paper.
It felt homely, yet it was freezing. The dichotomy of those two feelings left you rather stumped.
Joel made his way to his chair, his tight black pants and loose, long sleeved white shirt bellowing beneath the cranked A/C.
Perhaps you were just wet with rain, but you couldn't stop shivering.
"D-Do you run hot, or something?" You finally managed to stutter out, your arms hugging tight around your body as you sat across from him.
The Professor grinned ever so slightly, grabbing a black coat that hung on his tall coat rack, moving to hand it to you. When he got close, his nostrils flared ever so slightly. You watched his knuckles turn white against the collar of the jacket, and you heard him slowly take in a deep breath.
Slowly you looked up, his pupils blown wide with some archaic sort of desire, darkening with every breath he took in. It was as though he was breathing you in. Your thighs clenched tightly as his hand dropped to your shoulder.
Joel looked down at you, blinking slowly, as though he were coming back down to reality from an existential crisis or nerve racking nightmare. A shudder ran down the teachers spine, before he quickly dropped the material in your lap and rushed back to his chair, quickly becoming composed and poised as though nothing else had happened.
What was that about?
Dr. Miller peered at you from across the desk, smoothing out a paper that lay before him. The air was thick with an awkward sort of palpability, and you were scared if you tried to speak, nothing would come out of your mouth, your tongue dry like cotton.
"You said you wanted to meet with me?" He finally asked, his words slow and deep, that familiar Southern drawl clinging to each syllable in a smooth, honeyed sort of way.
"Y-.... yes." Clearing your throat, you somehow managed to sit up straighter, bringing the fleece coat tight upon your shoulders. "My paper."
"The one about vampiric Romanian myths, I assume. What about it?"
"I..." You paused once more, your mouth hanging open at the sheer insanity of what you wished to say next. "I think we should stop calling them myths, Professor."
Your professor chuckled a lovely, warming chuckle, a hand gently running down his stubble covered cheek. "Is that so?" His voice dropped an octave, and you saw his pupils grow dark once more.
With furrowed eyebrows, you began to speak once more. "I researched this extensively, you see. These... these sources, from the 15th century, they're accompanied by various art pieces, debates... I-I even read papal court cases involving humanoid creatures that only hunt at night. All of that-all of it is just a myth? Something doesn't add up to me."
"When studying history, it's important to note that not everything is.... as it seems." He flashed you a smile, and you caught glimpse of an incisor that looked longer than usual, sharper that normal, more imposing than most.
A wave of courage rushed over you at the sight. "Just with history?" Your voice was a whisper, but for the first time that night, it did not waver.
He stood, slowly making his way towards you. Your spine straightened as he pressed against you from behind the chair, his hands slowly falling to your shoulders. His palms were warm, heating the skin of your shoulders, your mind soon forgetting the cold memory of the rain.
"What are you implying?" You looked over to him, your eyes tracing over the golden skin of his hands, rough and calloused by the hand of time. This is the skin of a killer bella.
"Are you..." You took in a defeated sigh, shutting your eyes tightly. "Are you a vampire?" You couldn't believe how stupid you felt, how stupid all of this seemed once you spoke it out loud.
He laughed, and you felt him shifting to match your height, one knee resting on the wooden planks of the floor. "What do you think?" Joel whispered, his nose gently brushing against the skin of your neck.
You took in a sharp breath of air, leaning back against him, slowly turning to face him. "Dr. Miller...."
"What?"
"You're... you're very close to me."
"Do you want me to move? I can."
You shook your head slowly. "No. Don't." And you meant it.
A mischievous smirk fell over his plush lips, and you felt a finger gently tracing down your arm. "That's what I thought. I can see you, you know. The way you act around me, how you beam when I praise you, how you deflate when I walk away from you. I'm not stupid, darlin'. I know what you want, and I can give it to you."
"And what do I want, Professor?"
You could feel the arrogance radiating off of him. "Me." That one word was so infuriatingly attractive, his confidence only making him more desirable, more tempting.
You took in a sharp breath of air, your head falling into his shoulder. You felt his eyes searing in to your jugular, the smooth, taut skin of your neck on display for his chocolate hued eyes.
"How do you know that?"
"I can smell it. Your arousal. Your desire. Your need. All for me. I can make you feel pleasure like no one else can." His words were hot against your skin, and you felt his lips brushing against it with each word he spoke.
If you wanted to lie, you knew you would be unable to, now caught in his words like an animal in a trap. You swallowed thickly, nodding. "Yes." Was all you could say, your tongue dry once more. "But not tonight. I'm-"
"Bleeding?" Joel finished for you, and you were shook by the realization that if anyone in the world would care about that, it certainly wouldn't be him.
"How did you know?"
"I can smell it." You could practically hear the watering of his mouth, the desire which clung to the surface of his syllables. "Surely that wouldn't deter me, if what you've discovered is true. No?"
"No."
"Then let me taste you, let me have you."
"I'm yours." You whispered quietly, eyelids shutting as his mouth attached to your neck, deep kisses pressing in to your exposed flesh, searing hot with the promise of arousal.
"Oh, you always have been, haven't you?" Joel's fingers gently tangled around your tresses of hair, his tongue licking a thick strip across your throat.
"You never answered my question." You whispered out your thoughts as you felt his the sharpness of his teeth.
"I know. But you never answered mine."
"What-.... what question?"
"What do you think I am?"
"You know what I think."
"Do you have proof to back that up?" Dr. Miller's voice was getting cocky now, each word laced with more arrogance than the last.
"I've never seen you in the daylight. Never... never seen you eat or drink anything. You lurk in your office, in the shadows of the classroom. You're not like the other professor's, who are always out and about in the mornings, chattering and drinking coffee." You shut your eyes tightly, your tongue sweeping across your lower lip.
"Say it." He pleaded, words dark and cloudy with desire. "Say what I am."
"You're a vampire."
"You're right."
A shaky breath escaped you, and you slowly opened your eyes to see his mouth slightly open, the sharpness of his fangs exposed to your vision. You turned to face him head on, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering golden flame of the surrounding candles.
He looked so handsome in this light, the shadows that danced across his face only making him more imposing, more alluring. The Professors umber eyes were glued to your features, and you felt a calloused finger trace along the line of your soft jaw, his touch warm and gentle. You shivered at the feeling.
"Will you bite me?"
"Bite... you?"
"Please."
Joel ran his middle finger across your lower lip, a stray strand of hair pushed behind your ear by his slow movements. A sad sort of smile fell over his face. "That's not a good idea."
"Why not?"
He stared at you long and hard, as though he were weighing infinite possibilities within his mind. "If I start, I won't ever want to stop. I'll just keep coming back to you for more and more, it will be an infinite loop. Not to mention what.... well, what will happen to you."
"To me?"
"Eternity is a very long time." His voice turned solemn for a moment, and you nodded in silent understanding.
"How old are you?"
"Very old."
A soft giggle escaped you, and your hands moved to cup his scruffy cheeks. "I always thought vampires were Romanian. Or, Byron-like and British. Like Keanu Reeves."
He chuckled smoothly, shaking his head slowly at your guess. "Not this one. I'm a cowboy, through and through. Always have been, always will be."
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and you leaned towards him. "Can this cowboy kiss me?"
"This cowboy'll do whatever you want him to do."
Your eyes fluttered shut as Joel pressed his mouth to yours, a searing kiss burning through your body like an pyre ignited with flames. You moaned at the pleasure that filled your chest, his hands slowly moving to the hem of your damp shirt, fingers pressing into the soft skin of your belly as your kiss deepened. You hooked your leg around the professors waist, pulling him closer until his chest was flush against yours.
"I want more." You moaned out breathlessly, arms hooking around his neck as you pulled away.
"Then I'll give you more."
In one fell swoop he picked you up and placed you on his desk, his sheer strength causing you to yelp in surprise. Joel kissed you as though he would never kissed another, hungrily and passionately, working the buttons of his shirt. When he was done, he stripped you of your own, only pulling away to look upon your naked form.
"You're beautiful. Perfect. Look at you." His eyes drunk in every inch of your exposed chest, and he slowly grabbed the waistline of your jeans, tugging them off of you in one brief movement of his arms.
"You're beautiful." You mumbled, planting your hands on his thick biceps, feeling the strain of his muscles against your touch.
He smirked slightly, yet you caught a glimpse of it, and before you knew it he was down on his knees, his face buried between your thighs. You felt his teeth gently bite into your thighs, not hard enough to break any skin, but enough for you to feel it. You shivered at the pleasure, your fingers tangling into his hair.
You laid back across the desk, legs hooked over his shoulders, as his lips wrapped around your swelling clit, tongue tracing circles over your sensitive button.
You groaned out at the contact, tugging at his curls, trying to bring him even closer to the slick heat of your pussy.
"You're the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."
All you could do was moan out at his comment, allowing him to drink you all in with every lap of his tongue, every movement of his soft lips.
"I could stay down here for eternity." Joel grumbled, sucking in your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to leave you begging for me.
"Do what you must." You responded through a breathless laugh, shocks of pleasure jolting through your core.
His tongue swept through your folds, collecting your arousal and your blood, the metallic taste of your tang filling his senses with pleasure he never thought was possible. Joel ate your pussy like a starved man. Which, in truth, he really was.
His fingers slowly moved to the entrance of your contracting pussy, and he eased his digits in to the knuckle, hitting against that spot that made you coo with relief. As he slowly began a rhythm with his movements, Joel returned to your clit, making sure it wasn't feeling left out. He sucked and licked, lapped and groaned, your cunt the only thing in the world that he cared about in that moment.
Before you could even think of what was going on, you felt your orgasm brewing within you, and that coil was only growing tighter by the minute. Dr. Miller continued fingering you, adding in a second finger as his tongue traced shapes into your bud, your blood dripping on his chin as he took you all in.
"I'm going to- I'm... Oh, fuck. Professor!" Your orgasm rocked you like a hurricane, waves and waves of tepid bliss filling your mind until his tongue on your skin and his fingers deep inside you were the only thing you could ever remember.
He only pulled away once he licked every drop of your cum and blood up, wiping away the excess with the back of his hand. Joel looked at you darkly, eyes meeting yours, and you noticed the bulge pressing into his trousers.
"Fill me." You whispered, opening your arms to welcome him back to your embrace.
"Oh, I will."
Joel moved to your arms, his hands working at his zipper until he was completely naked in front of you. You traced your palm down the softness of his belly until you had wrapped your own hand around his cock, stiff and aching with the thought of being buried deep inside of you. You guided his leaking mushroom tip to the entrance of your cunt, slowly looking up at him.
"Take me."
"As you wish." He whispered, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he pushed in to you, hands moving to your waist.
He stretched you perfectly, each ridge and vein introducing you to new pleasures you had never felt before. Joel knew how to make you shiver, how to make you moan, and he had never heard anything as beautiful as the sound of his name falling off your pretty lips.
"You feel so fuckin' good. So fuckin' tight for me, so wet." His teeth grazed against the flesh of your collarbone, and you felt his kisses pressing up and in to your neck. He bit down on your skin, much harder than the last time, his incisors tracing perfect lines on the suppleness of your throat.
Your fingers moved to his hair as you cried out his name, cheek falling into the side of his head as he pumped deep in to you. "Fuck me." You begged out breathlessly, his hips against yours growing harder and meaner with each movement.
"You're mine." His words were a growl, his words calming and deep in your ear, his heavy pants with each thrust causing you to whimper.
"I'm yours."
"Good fuckin' girl. Takin' me in." He raised his fingers to your mouth, gently pushing past your lips. "Suck."
You sucked your own orgasm off his flesh, moaning at the taste as he pulled away to watch, his pelvis hitting against yours as he fucked your pussy. A smirk flitted at the corners of his mouth.
"Look so pretty with your mouth stuffed."
You moaned out at the praise, pulling away with a gentle pop.
Joel reached down, easily finding your clit. "Gonna make you cum on my cock. One more time for me. Okay?"
"Okay." You complied happily, laying back on the desk once more as he towered over you, chest coming in to contact with your own as he rubbed and fucked, skilled beyond any sort of measure you had ever experienced before.
"That's my girl. My pretty girl. My strong, smart, clever girl." His words were hot against your throat as he bit you again, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make himself known.
He had so much power like that, with his teeth right against your flesh. He had your life in his hands, and yet he had no desire to take it. No desire you suck you down to the bone, no desire to curse you with the eternal fate he himself had been left with. Oh, yes. Eternity does sound so romantic to those who have no concept of it, doesn't it? But Joel Miller knew. He knew what forever could do to a man. He knew how lonely it could be.
You were right under his grasp, right there. He could take everything away from you in one bite, with one movement of his teeth. And yet he didn't.
Somehow, knowing this, knowing what he could do to you, only made you want him more. The trust that was there, the respect that lingered with each feeling of his fangs against you, only made you fall harder, deeper, longer.
Your stomach tightened with another climax as you fell back down to reality, and Joel pulled away to look at you, his nose pressing in to your own as your eyes met.
"I'm going to cum again." You whispered, throwing your hands around his shoulders.
"Cum for me then, darlin'. Cum on this dick."
Hearing his voice, deep and smooth and sexy and raw, caused you to come undone, your voice giving out as you cried out silently, pleasure flooding you as your pussy tightened around his cock. Joel followed suit, burying his face in your shoulder as his own orgasm shot through, his seed spilling deep within you, painting your walls white.
His weight pressed down against you as he pulled you closer, allowing your climaxes to calm down before kissed you, his lips rough and cracked against your own.
"Perhaps I should start leaving more comments on your papers." He joked as he pulled away, gently moving to help you dress, your shirt almost dry from the rains previous assault.
"Or I could just keep coming back. Over and over again."
"I would like that." Joel said earnestly, pulling his pants on over his legs.
"I would, too." You smiled up at him, slowly getting off the edge of his desk. "Do you, uh, have any plans tonight?"
"Besides lurking in the shadows and hunting pale virgins? No, not really." Dr. Miller's voice was dry and sarcastic, yet a hint of charming care was evident.
You laughed softly at his joke, looking up at him. "Would you want to do something with me?"
"Like what? I can't exactly take you out to dinner."
Joel relished in the bright smile that stretched across your face. "We could always go for a walk? The rain has stopped."
He peered out the window, the silver light of the moon flooding in through the sheer curtains. "Then it's a date."
"Yes. A date."
And as you two walked, hand in hand through the dense forest of autumn, and as the distant waves of the ocean crashed in and out of ear shot, you wondered what could possibly be so bad about eternity if it were spent with him. Perhaps you could get used to these late night walks. Perhaps you would yearn for them for the rest of your life, however long that may be.
#joel miller x reader#studioghibelli#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller x you#pedro pascal x reader#the last of us fic#joel miller smut#joel miller the last of us#joel miller x y/n#joel the last of us#tlou fanfiction#tlou au#tlou fic#joel x reader#joel tlou#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fandom#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#pedrostories#vampire#vampire au#au#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction
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Hii!
Could you possibly do a Percy Jackson smut with Percy fucking the brat out of reader, his rival? Rough sex with degrading and praise pls and ty 🫶🏼🫶🏼
A/n:This was quite an interesting request for me to write, thank you for the idea! All character have been aged up (19-20)
More than rivalry
Percy jackson masterlist | main masterlist
Summary: Percy gets jealous seeing you (his rival) with another boy and decides to fuck you to make sure you remember that you are his but you end up being too cocky for his liking
Warnings: smut, degradation
Pairing: Percy x daughter of Zeus! Reader
Reader pov:
I was practising my archery skills with some Apollo kids and we were actually having a lot of fun
Over the time I had spent Robert over the past few days perfecting my archery we both really grew close together
He was one of the very few people at camp who were actually friends with me for me and not because I was Zeus’s daughter.
While we were training I clumsily fell over a rock and was about to go crash into the ground but Robert caught me in time.
We stayed in the position for a little bit not knowing what to do.
We looked at each other with soft and gentle eyes, like how friends would rather than people who like each other though it seemed otherwise to most.
It was a sweet moment we both were trying to savour when a bellowing voice split us apart
“Oi thunder witch! What are you doing, let the poor guy out of his misery and do some practising on your own yea?” Yelled the voice that I really didn’t want to hear right now
Percy motherfucking Jackson
“Ocean ass how about you go bother someone else. He’s here with me at his own will for your kind information. Care more about your friends yea?” I retorted
I wanted to leave the arena as fast as possible so I bid Robert goodbye and left for my cabin
Percy pov:
Crisis averted.
I didn’t let Robert and y/n have their moment.
Why the fuck out of all the girls here does Robert have to go for y/n?
He has like a hundred girls dying for him.
Doesn’t he know she’s mine?
I know we seem like enemies but I wish to fuck like every second of the day at this point
She’s just so beautiful and that attitude damn.
I had a plan to get y/n away from every other guy, not just Robert.
Reader pov:
I was sitting in my cabin reading a book when I heard a knock on my door
That’s odd, I thought
Nobody was usually free at this hour in the evening
Everyone was too busy scheming for capture the flag except me of course
I wasn’t allowed to participate along with Percy since we were a tad bit overpowered
I walked over and opened the door and before I could figure out who it was they shoved me against the wall and started kissing me
I pushed the figure away and tried to run but they caught me
“Don’t try to run bitch. You need to be taught a lesson. Now be a good little slut and listen to what I say or the consequences will be severe for you” the figure whispered in my ear.
Then I realised who it was
Percy.
I was feeling cocky today so I decided to tease him a little
“You sure you can be intimidating and dominating seaweed brain? I don’t think you can even satisfy me forget punishing me”I replied with a smirk gracing my features
“Oh you asked for this whore. By the time I’m done with you you will be so dumb for my cock that you won’t even remember your name. Just you wait “ he said in a Husky voice which turned me on more than I would like to admit
He started removing my clothes as fast as he could and I couldn’t help but sneak in a cheeky comment
“Desperate are we?” Boy oh boy was this a bad decision
“I’m going to fuck that cocky attitude right out of you. You really just can’t keep your mouth shut can you whore?” Percy said and threw me in my bed
Undressing himself he got on the bed and made his way towards me like a predator approaching its prey
He moved my panties to the side and roughly shoved his cock inside me without any warning
“A-ah p-p-Percy that hurts sto-“ I was cut off by a slap I received
“Shut the fuck up slut. You were the one who was acting all cocky just a few minutes ago. Bitches like you don’t deserve to be cared for” Percy panted as he continued thrusting in and out
His pace was ungodly. He kept thrusting in and out of me letting my pussy drink up his cock
I felt like I was losing my mind as he hit my g-spot repeatedly completely abusing it
“O-oh fuck your pussy is tight. G-gods I’m going to come. Ah yea just like that” He whispered huskily
“I am going to cum too Percy” I told him
“No no. You don’t get to cum you little slut. You’ve been a really back whore for me. You don’t get to cum today, deal with it yourself” Percy said as he came in me
He got dressed quickly and left leaving me a panting and unsatisfied mess
Goddamit jackson.
A/n: let me know if you guys liked this fic or if you have any feedback! Requests are still on hold unfortunately but they’ll be opened soon. Kissies ✨
#percy jackson x y/n#percy jackson x you#percy jackson smut#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#percy jackon and the olympians#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse x reader#clarisse la rue#luke castellan x you#luke castellan smut#luke castellan x reader#leo valdez#leo valdez x reader#leo valdez x y/n#leo valdez x you
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This is my second ever ask in my 10 years of having Tumblr so please let me know if I’m saying this wrong or if this is rude 😅 but please could you do a felix or chan incredibly insanely darkly jealous a lot of breeding kink and rutting and c8ck dumb reader 😮💨😅😅 pretty please
“UNDER THE INFLUENCE” L. F.
Awe well I am honored to be your second ask here on tumble. I think I'll take Felix on this one...give him a bit more love in my post stream..
{ MDNI }
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Today was not supposed to end like this. You had no intention of being in a room alone with him -especially while you both were ‘working’- but here you are. Trembling and writhing as Felix had his fill of you.
It was a miracle that your makeup wasn’t smudged; thankfully, your hair wasn’t too messed up from its original wet and wavy look. No matter how many times Felix ran his fingers through it or if you pressed your head against the thin walls as shrouds of ecstasy hit you, it stayed modestly neat.
One less giveaway of what the two of you were getting up to in his dressing room.
“Felix…F-Felix th-that’s enough….Ahm!” You groan as quietly as possible, trying hard to not let anyone outside the room hear how amazing it feels to have your cunt devoured like there was no tomorrow. The blonde completely ignored your demand, swirling his tongue in quicker circles around your clit before delving into your dripping entrance.
He’d been at it for the past ten minutes at least, never letting you pull your hips away from his oddly rough grip, keeping your legs wide open as you sat on the -previously organized- makeup vanity. You felt terrible about doing such inappropriate things with a man you swore you’d never met all day.
All fucking day.
You’d refused to admit that Felix was your significant other to make the photo shoot between you and a male model less awkward. A small sacrifice you were both used to driving to keep your relationship concealed and stable, but for one reason or another, Felix felt a simmering rage when he heard you deny your ties to them.
He hated it so much that he’d been less approachable and friendly for the better part of the day.
The staff noticed Felix’s change, whispering about how on edge he was on and off camera-cordial to everyone like always- but noticeably annoyed. You’d seen it too, very concerned he wasn’t feeling well and convinced just checking on him during the staff hour-long lunch break wouldn’t do any harm to anyone.
Everyone except you.
Felix was not above taking his growing frustrations out on you. The instant you shut his dressing room door, he’d covered you, hands preemptively inching the bodice of your silk skirt to touch your bare skin underneath as he placed one fiery kiss on your lips after another. “Stop letting him touch what’s mine, angel,” he whispers into your parted lips, drinking in the immediate whimpers you let out in return.
“You can’t be serious, Lix. More than half of the shoot requires us to “
He rolled his eyes, smirking in disbelief at your attempt to reason with him, “Does it look like I fucking care. Either keep his hands off you, or I’ll ensure it myself.” The rare sight of anger adorned Felix’s gentle features, voice a rumbling whisper, and the combination propelled you into subspace within seconds. He was never this openly possessive. He’d pout or sulk if you didn’t give him attention occasionally, but this…
This was new.
It made you nervous under his gaze, rendering you speechless as he hugged you close, lips reconnecting to your own in another sequence of tender kisses as he walked you backward into the vanity. Your exposed back hit the mirror with a soft ‘thud’ and you flinched away from it. Felix brought you close to him, letting his warmth resolve your shivering and trailing his hands over the intricate details of your artistic bralette.
You pulled away, smiling proudly as Felix took a moment to admire your decorated breasts, eyes darkening with desire as you leaned back with a knowing smile on your face. “Like what you see, Liz?” You tease him, giggling softly as you turn your head to look at him through the reflection. He nods slowly, tongue poking one of his cheeks as he snakes an arm around your waist, closing the tiny gap between you two and effectively spreading your legs to frame his waist.
“You know I do, angel. Always will…” he mutters adoringly, placing a trail of heated kisses along your neck, shoulder, and finally, the curve of your breasts. He groaned in displeasure as he realized the material was intricately clasped, making it a hassle to remove and one less place on your body for him to play with.
Felix solves the dilemma quickly, licking a long stripe over each one before nipping at your skin until barely visible bruises are raised on your skin. Your face burned hot, lust seeping to panic as he marked what he knew to be his, and though it felt amazing, you knew he was inching you both towards exposure.
“Lix, please don’t…they’ll see those…mm,” you bit back a moan as he made another affliction, purposefully making it noticeable. You flinched against him, hands flying to claw into his shoulders, “That’s enough…” you moaned into his ear. The demand lost its edge as it slipped off your tongue, concern becoming a blur as Felix tangled a hand in your hair, pulling it so you had no choice but to let him stain your skin with as many love bites as he pleased.
Your brows knitted together as each one became more intense than the last, the arm around your waist holding you flush against him, adding to the mind-numbing pleasure he was inducing.
You tried one last time to reason with him, stuck in thralls of heat and logical thinking, “Felix…th-“
He cut you off immediately, devoid of any sympathy for your plight, and his authoritative tone made that abundantly clear.
“I don’t care,” he retorts, and you whine in response, “..But I do.”
Felix laughed dryly, inwardly amused by your signature pout but unsympathetic with your reasoning. “You shouldn’t,” he replies softly, bringing his hands to caress your face. You stared up at him lovingly, leering into his touch as he pecked your lips, the subtle hums of approval thundering in his chest, building the pool of heat in your core.
“I know, Lix….” You murmur into the kiss, feeling his hands drop to your thighs, giving them light-handed squeezes. You subconsciously roll your hips to get his touch closer to your dripping cunt. He smiles against your lips, chuckling at your eagerness and immediately giving in to you.
“Desperate little angel, aren’t we?” He teased you, discreetly slipping the many rings off his fingers as you nodded your head and let out a breathless “mhm” in response. Felix shifted your silky skirt to the side, draping the fabric off of your legs as he cupped your mound with one hand. He bit his plush bottom lip as your hips bucked into his hold. A sheer thong was the only thing keeping your soaked folds away from him, and he remedied the obstacle by pulling it to the side.
“Fuck…” you hiss as the cool air hits your exposed cunt, slick going ice cold as Felix prodded to skilled fingers past your entrance. “It’s a miracle you don’t have cum running down your leg, love. It must be so hard walking around this wet for me, yeah?” His voice carried so much weight, doubling down on your own pleasure as he fingered you at the slowest pace possible.
You were at a loss for words, thoughts, or any coherent reaction as he curled his fingers forward to hit your sweet spot. Felix wanted a verbal answer, not just the satisfying gratification your moans brought him, “Need to hear you, angel..or I’ll stop.” You shake your head in displeasure, blushing heavily as you rush a reply, words slurring into excited whimpers.
“Y-yes…s-Ahm….fuck Lix…y-yes you’re right….”
“Good girl…” he whispers, pumping his fingers faster and pressing your clit with the pad of his thumb. You yelp quietly, whining curses as a familiar tightening ramped up in your stomach, and you clenched around his fingers as a result.
Felix groaned vicariously, smirking wildly before withdrawing his hand. “N-no! Lix, please!” You nearly shout in agony at the loss of fullness, ready to cry as he drops to his knees, faking a frown as he comes face to face with your glittering core. “You’re being awfully loud for someone who doesn’t want to get caught, love.” His warm breath fans the slick entrance as he speaks, putting you in a daze that intensifies when he flicks his tongue against you.
“Don’t care anymore…jus’ wanna cum,” you mewl as he focuses on the task at hand, finding the rhythm to taste you with his tongue perfectly and urging you to cum in his mouth with every deliberate action.
His blonde hair tickled your thighs, low moans sending vibrations through you in waves and heightening the toll your climax took on you.
Felix refused to stop until your cunt was all he’d be able to savor for the rest of the day. You nearly fell forward on him in a state of elated exhaustion as he stood back up and kissed you deeply. Your eyes slid shut as the creaminess of your release and his spit seeped down your throat, a wanton moan spilling from you both as his tongue danced with yours, and your hands traveled up to grip his hair.
“Careful…” he grunts, the sound giving way to an altered whine. You pull the blonde strands harder, lips connecting to his jawline and making your own mark on his tan skin. He reaches for his belt, glad his outfit wasn’t nearly as complicated as your own, and a sigh of relief comes out as a sharp exhale through his nose the moment his cock springs free.
You smile against his skin, eyes trailing down to get a view of it, “You’re such a hypocrite,” you taunt him. Amused to see how affected Felix was by the mere thought of another man laying his hands on you.
He groans, muttering a semblance of disagreeable words before shoving you back with gentle force. The conjoined feeling of the cold mirror hitting your heated skin and the instantaneous contact of his throbbing shaft gliding up and down your glittery folds has your back arching as ripples of pleasure course through you.
Felix drops his head to the crook of your neck, a few strands of his hair ghosting your skin as he places featherlight kisses. “Lix..” you mumble lowly, unable to think straight as he breathes in your scent, his hands grazing down your spine as he does.
“Promise me he won’t touch you again,” he whispers in your ear, his hips pausing, the tip of his cock inching into you ever so slightly. You whined loudly, head lulling back as your brows furrowed in frustration, one hand slipping from his tousled hair to clasp around his throat. Every breath he took raised his Adam’s apple, your thumb gingerly baring down the muscle as you shook your head slowly.
“I can’t..please don’t make me,” you plead for a compromise, but Felix disregards the refusal, pushing into your cunt inch by inch, torturing the both of you with the long-awaited security your fluttering walls would impose on him. “Yes, yes you can…you will. Promise me, sweetheart. Open your pretty mouth and swear to me that you’re all mine..” Felix shifted between pleading and demanding, eyes flickering from your expression of pure ecstasy as he sunk all the way into you to the space where you two connected.
A train of thought no longer existed for you as he pulled out slowly, slamming back so harshly that the vanity quivered from the subtle force. Your mouth fell open, eyes rolling in earnest bewilderment the rougher Felix got. “Fucking answer me…,” he groans, burying his cock in you, and refusing to move until you stuttered out a response.
Work be dammed. Telling some random guy to keep his hands to himself for the next few hours paled in comparison to your need to cum….and was honestly a task you’d do whether Felix was coercing it out of you or not.
So, as much as you cared for professionalism…it’d have to take a backseat to whatever emotion he was dragging you into now.
“I. I promise it won’t happen again…I promise, Lix…” You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded, past the point of modesty and clinging to Felix for dear life as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. Your chest pressed into his, the intricate details on your bra chilling his burning skin and prompting him to hold you there with an arm snaking around your waist.
He fisted the sheer material of your skirt, almost ripping through it as he tugged it higher, nails digging into your skin possessively, and you winced in pain as he brought his lips to your ear again. “Hm, does it hurt, angel?” He asks, feigning concern, and the contrast of the sweet gesture amid brutality made your head spin endlessly. “Y-yes,” you huffed as a moan built in your throat, quickly slipping out as he shifted one of your legs up and around his lean waist. The adjusted angle drew a surprised cry from you, cunt gripping every ride and vein of his cock as he took advantage of the position. He was bruising your sweet spot with an intensity and speed you’d never experienced before.
Felix was generally endearingly romantic and rarely this aggressive with you. Seeing, well, witnessing this side of his character was an edge for you on its own.
You were surprised that you managed to hold out this long without cumming and even more taken aback by the steady stream of arousal pooling on the vanity beneath you. Felix noticed it too, cock twitching inside you as pride flooded his system, “You’re making such a mess, pretty girl… does it feel that good?” He grinned triumphantly when you nodded without hesitation, hips rolling to meet his thrusts at an even pace for as long as possible.
“Gorgeous, so…fucking gorgeous..” he praises your every reaction, running a hand down the expanse of your torso, stopping to press down where you could feel his cock the most. You blushed as the applied pressure emphasized exactly where Felix was inside you.
The coil in your core teetered on the verge of snapping, your hands disappearing underneath the hem of his designer dress shirt, and your manicured nails scratched into his toned torso. The simple action caused Felix to buck his hips and wrap his free hand in your hair as he brought you into an open-mouthed kiss. It was sloppy, void of any decency, as the both of you chased your high at the expense of the other.
You clawed at his skin, moaning louder as the knot in your stomach begged to loosen for the third time in a row. He stared into your dreamy gaze, reading the warning in them as he held your head close to his.
Felix wanted nothing more than to etch this very moment into your mind for the rest of the day -your life. The thought of you walking around, filled to the brim with his cum as you posed for one picture after the next plagued his conscious, and undid the last link of reason for him.
“Fuck this,” he snapped, brows furrowing with determination as he pulled out of you, and slid you off the vanity to bend you forward on it instead. Thankfully, you caught yourself in time, too dazed to stop him from kicking your legs apart, and reentering you from behind. “Felix…” you groan exasperatedly, shuddering as his cock stretched your cunt with ease, causing a thin drip arousal to slide down your inner thighs.
The blonde leaned over you, a hand resting on the curve of your back as he returned to his pace from earlier. Sweat starts to build on his tan skin, a concentrated expression adorning his angelic features as he pounded into you.
Blank.
Your mind was entirely blank the longer he bullied his cock against your sensitive womb and the tension mounting in your body multiples exponentially as he lowered himself to speak in your ear lowly.
“This is where you belong, angel. Just like this, with me, an no one else understand?”
You nodded weakly, fighting back tears as the urge to cum from the sound of his voice tempted you.
It’d only take one more possessive word from him -paired with that salacious smile on his face- to unravel you. Felix was at his end, too, eyes sliding close as the precision of his thirst became a tenuous blur.
“You think he’d use you this well, love?” He slurs the question, unintentionally pulling your hair as he snaps his hips harder. “No…”you sigh deliriously, reaching a hand to run through his hair and bring him in for a heated kiss, while the other latched against the mirror to hold you steady under his weight as the knot in your core spiraled loose.
“That’s it….angel, fuck, you feel so good…” Felix doesn’t even try to be discreet, zoned in on the way your cunt gushes on his cock, greedily taking the hot ropes of cum he releases. Oxygen alludes to you for a few seconds, an overbearing heat rushing through you and your body quivering in the aftershock.
You looked divine. Unreal even. That pleased smile on your lips as you giggled shamelessly only added to the glow you emitted in your shared highs.
“He won’t touch me again, Lix..” you panted softly, smiling more expansive as you clung to him tiredly and laid your head on his shoulder.
He understood then. Why he’d felt so stricken with jealousy over you the whole day. Yes, he loved you, but the underlying notion that no one else knew it angered him.
What good would it do him not to try and claim you, at least? If fucking you into the bliss of oblivion was what needed to be done….he could make that sacrifice.
Felix kissed the top of your head, grinning as you whined defeatedly as he shifted his hips to settle his cock further into you, “See, that wasn’t so hard to agree to, now was it, love?”
You pout, raising your head to glare at him playfully, “No….but now the stylists will have to cover me in two layers of foundation!”
Felix raised a brow, gently rolling his hips into again, and you melted underneath him at the overstimulation. “Who said we were done, angel?” He asks, smiling at your fucked out reflection shifting to a look of desperation. You opened your mouth to say something but the words died in your throat, replaced by a broken moan as he gradually pumped his length past your tender walls, spreading his cum over them, and edging you both to another round.
This was not how your day was supposed to go, but there was no fight left in you, and certainly not enough left to refuse being stuffed full with Felix’s cum for the next thirty minutes.
Felix chuckled at the sight of you accepting your fate, subconsciously rocking your hips back to meet his, and welcoming the oncoming warmth of his accumulating releases.
Maybe making him jealous could be your new favorite hobby….
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This one was fun. I'm kind of proud of how it came out too....my editing is getting better hehe.
[ BONUS CONTENT + ]
Credits to owner 🖤 FYI if I met him and he made a joke I’d start laughing the same way zendaya was cracking up everytime Tom holland opened his mouth….i mean how else am I gonna convince Felix he’s my soulmate lmao 🖤
#skz#stray kids#skz smut#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#skz x reader#lee felix smut#lee felix scenarios#lee felix x reader#lee yongbok#lee felix stray kids#lee felix#felix yongbok#felix stray kids#stray kids felix#felix scenarios#felix smut#felix#skz yongbok#yongbok x reader#yongbokie#stray kids yongbok#felix hard thoughts#felix hard hours
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Oooo for Secret santa can I please request a Carmy x fem!reader where he proposes on Christmas?
Our boy is stressed
Carmen was not in any way calm. He was trying to be, but in his mind there were a thousand possible things that could go wrong. He'd never been afraid of the word no—he didn't like it, but he wasn't afraid of it—but today, he was terrified.
He had a ring in his pocket, simple and elegant, picked with the helped of Sugar, and she'd promised Carmen that you would say yes. She said she was sure of it, that nothing was going to go wrong.
You loved him and he loved you. Nothing could break what you had. Except maybe a ring and a question he'd wanted to ask for weeks now. He knew asking you to marry him on Christmas would either make or break the special day, and considering how bad Berzatto Christmas day's had been in the past, Carmen really didn't want anything to make it worse. Like you saying no for example. But maybe, if you said yes he could ignore everything else crashing down around him, because he would have you, and the knowledge that he would get to be your husband.
He'd woken up early that morning and snuck out of bed to prepare the scene, but the more he looked at it, it all seemed too much. Would he scare you off with the roses he'd placed in a vase on the table, or with the gingerbread scented candle he'd lit that morning?
When you woke up though, stepping groggily into the kitchen for coffee, you seemed happy.
"Merry Christmas, Carm." You mumbled as you came in for a good morning kiss. The small peck left him feeling flushed on the cheeks even though it was a common enough occurrence, and when you turned to see the flowers on the table a smile lit up your features.
"For me?" you whispered in delight and Carmen gave you a gentle nod, following you to the flowers with his hand placed softly against your back.
"Only if you want 'em." he jokes, and you grin over your shoulder as you pull one of the roses from the vase, inhaling deeply.
"Thank you." You coax him forward to give him another kiss, showing him just how much you appreciate the gesture. Carmen feels fulfilled for a moment, and the stress leaves him as he digs his fingers into the flesh below your hips. He thinks maybe he can convince you to stay like this the whole day, and you can, together, ignore the madness of Christmas from everyone else's perspectives. But he knows that isn't possible, that you have to go see your family, and then his to keep the peace. The peace is important.
He cooks you breakfast and you eat together, in no rush as the morning drags by, and when Carmy finally convinces you to head to the lounge so he can give you a gift or two, it's almost midday.
"Me first," You say, picking up a gift with "Carmy" written on it in scribbled letters. You hand it to him gently, cautious as if you're afraid he won't like it. He takes it from you just as softly, and you shuffle closer, legs crossed on the couch beside him.
When he opens the gift, its a hand decorated frame, a picture of you and Carmen standing outside the restaurant placed behind the glass. It's simple but it warms his heart, and he reaches out for you, tugging you into his side.
"I love you, baby." he mutters against your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. There's a wide smile on your lips when he pulls back to look at you, and a hopeful glimmer in your eye.
"You like it?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course I like it. I love it."
He hands you a gift, which as you unwrap it, is a pathetic box of heart shaped chocolates, but you smile and thank him anyway, not caring about the gifts at all. He gets from you a denim jacket, new and unique, and finally the time comes for him to face his fears.
"I've got one more thing," He says, clearing his throat nervously, "Well, it's more a question than a thing, I don't know, fuck, you'll see." He can feel the weight of the ring in his pocket and he wonders how he should do this. In the movies they always get down on one knee, hold up the ring like it's a crown waiting to be worn, but to Carmen that doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like you and him.
He sits on the couch facing you, legs crossed and mimicking your position until you're looking at each other in something kind of like a trust exercise. You're grinning as Carmen sits anxious in front of you and the eye contact makes you snort a quiet laugh.
"What is it?" You ask, poking his knee affectionately.
"I uh, fuck." Carmy reaches into his pocket, and now there's no turning back. You're looking at him expectantly, a little nervous yourself with how much anxiety is radiating from his being. When you see the small box in his hand, the navy blue velvet square makes your eyes widen. "I love you. I know I don't say it enough but I do, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, if you'll let me." He opens the box, gently, presenting you with the ring inside. "Will you marry me, baby?" His voice is shaky and he watches as your hands come up to cover your mouth in shock, eyes flickering from the ring in front of you to Carmen's face in disbelief.
"Yes, I'll fucking marry you, oh my god!"
Before Carmen can think of putting the ring on your finger you're leaping into his lap, wrapping him up in the tightest hug ever as you both tumble off the couch from the force of your embrace. He doesn't have time to say anything either, because you're kissing him like a madwoman, you're excitement clear.
"Merry fucking Christmas." Carmy mumbles when he can finally get a word in, holding you tight against his body.
I hope you like it! thanks for joining in the celebration!
CARMEN BERZATTO TAGLIST: @thrutheburnout @diorrfairy @norriebunny @yeschefthankyouchef
THE BEAR TAGLIST: @live-love-be-unique @kpopgirlbtssvt
#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmen berzatto fluff#carmy berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto imagines#carmy berzatto fanfic#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto fanfiction#the bear#the bear fx#the bear fanfiction#the bear fanfic#the bear hulu#carmen berzatto fanfic#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto imagines#carmy berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto one shot#carmen berzatto drabble#carmen berzatto one shot#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#carmy berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x fem!reader#carmy the bear#sydney adamu#the bear imagines#the bear imagine#holiday celebration 🍾
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I'll Take Care of You (Alessia Russo x MMA!fighter R)
Request: Could we maybe see some slightly more stern dom alessia dealing with r (doesn’t have to be smut) in front of the team because reader starts acting bratty with them?
Part of the same universe as the come down.
Warning: Slight touching but not actual smut. Also D/S fic
Author's note: Hey Y'all, i really hope you enjoy this. I want to point out that D/S dynamics are based on trust and communication, so that's what I chose to focus on. Alessia is a soft dom, and chooses a punishment that she knows will be effective. If you want to chat or have any ideas or comments, feel free to hit me up.
Gearing up for a fight was the equivalent of stretching out a rubber band to its limit. It was 8 weeks of nonstop training, 4 weeks of conditioning your body to shed water so you could make weight, 2 weeks of cameras following you around for UFC embedded, and 1 week of media bombardment where you had to listen to grown men act like 5-year-olds talking about who was going to beat who.
It was utterly exhausting.
The only upside was that at the end of it, you got to step into the octagon and do what you did best.
You got to put the plan your coaches drilled over and over into your brain into place. You got to release all of the built-up anxiety and frustration from camp.
You got to fight.
It was like coming up for oxygen after being trapped underwater. Sometimes the cage felt like the only place you could really breathe on your own.
It had been your safe haven for almost as long as you could remember, which was kinda strange considering your health was put at immediate risk every time you stepped inside. It had been your escape from your family, and your only coping mechanism for as long as you could remember.
To go through training camp, and fight week and the weight cut, only to have your fight pulled at the last minute was fucking devastating.
It was like when Alessia brought you all the way to the precipice of an orgasm and then pulled away just before you could tumble over it, except far far far worse.
It made your blood boil. It made the monster in your chest roar that your opponent couldn’t do his end of the job to make the fight go on after all of the shit he was talking. And there was nothing anyone could say or do to make it better.
Dana promised that the fight would be rescheduled. He even threw in that if you won, you would be next in line for a title shot.
But it didn’t help.
The fight was set to be at the O2 arena, meaning your girlfriend and all of her teammates had been set to see you, and now they couldn’t. You couldn’t get your 10 training weeks back and you would have to do the weight cut all over again.
It was a shit sandwich, and it made you feel completely out of control. It made you crave for someone else to put you right again. For Alessia to remind you that she had control always.
Maybe that’s why you chose your satin button-down shirt to go to dinner with your girlfriend and her teammates and paired it with tight black skinny jeans.
It wasn’t often that you liked to push Alessia’s control. That you toed the boundaries that she set, but tonight it felt like the prize comparable to stepping into the cage.
With the little black dress she had worn, you really couldn’t blame yourself either. You could never resist when she showed off her legs. You were obsessed and she knew it. It was probably why she had chosen the outfit, to begin with.
It was probably designed as a reward of sorts for after your fight, except you weren’t having a fight. So you supposed it was kind of like a consolation prize.
Except you felt wound too tightly to really enjoy it.
“So that’s it, they just call the whole thing off?” Ella asked leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand.
“Yep,” You popped the p, your finger running a gentle circle on Alessia’s exposed knee. “I can’t even sign a paper that says I’m fine fighting him despite the failed drug test, and it’s too late to find a replacement even if we allow a catchweight,”
She let the movement continue, the hand wrapped around your shoulder gently squeezing the arm furthest away from her.
While she was relieved that the rules prevented you from fighting a man on steroids, she knew how gutted you were about the cancellation.
“Probably for the best mate,” Leah said, sipping her wine.
You shrugged, letting your finger trail a little higher on Alessia’s leg.
It was slightly too… forward for the steakhouse her teammates had chosen, but with the dimmed lights you figured no one could see your hand under the white tablecloth anyway. Not with how close you were sitting to your girlfriend.
“I already made weight, so it’s kind of a waste,” You muttered, dragging your nails up the inside of her thigh to just below the hem of her dress. “I’ll have to start camp all over again unless I take something short notice,”
“Can you do that?” Mary asked, from your other side.
You shrugged again. “I told Dana I was game if he needed someone to fill in, so we’ll have to see,”
Alessia’s eyebrows pulled tighter together “You didn’t tell me that, love,”
“Didn’t I?” You asked, feigning dumb, as your fingers finally made it past the hem of her dress. “Must have forgotten. I’m excited to see you all play on Tuesday though,”
You ran your nail across the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh, dangerously close to her center. But before you could make it any further, her free hand caught your wrist, and repositioned you so your hand was resting very innocently near her knee again.
“Ireland is always fun to face,” Ella smiled at you. “Should be a bit chippy,”
“I’ll definitely be rocking my MacCabe jersey,” You matched her expression, your thumb again beginning to rub circles into Alessia’s skin.
Leah frowned, dropping her menu. “You will?”
“Absolutely,” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows and slyly trailing your thumb back up Alessia’s thigh. “Gotta support my favorite foul-mouthed Gooner,”
Leah’s eyes went wide, and Alessia squeezed your shoulder.
“And what about me?” Your girlfriend asked, a pout pulling at her lips.
You wiggled your eyebrows, a witty remark at the tip of your tongue, knowing it would piss her off, but the tension in your chest made you unable to stop yourself.
You wanted to push her. To force a reaction, even when you knew all you had to do was ask for what you wanted.
“Are you ladies ready to order?” A waiter asked, appearing behind Leah before you could let it fly.
You let your smirk widen, closing your menu with a thud and making eye contact with the waiter.
“Since she’s not on the menu,” You started, leaning closer to your girlfriend for just a second, edging your hand even further up her thigh until it was again past the hem of her dress. “I think I’ll have the tomahawk, medium rare with a Yorkie and the roasted carrots please,”
You winked at the waiter for good measure as the table giggled and Alessia’s cheeks turned bright red.
The waiter cleared his throat, turning his attention to your girlfriend. “And for you ma’am?”
Alessia opened her mouth, probably to order, but you cut her off instead.
“She’ll take the sirloin, medium with the Orzo and kale salad,” You said, reciting her normal order with perfect precision. “And she’ll be having me for dessert later,”
More giggles erupted from your friends, and you dragged your hand impossibly higher, extending your pinky so it brushed against her underwear.
She inhaled sharply next to you, sending you a warning side eye as the rest of the table continued to order, but she didn’t immediately remove your hand.
You ignored her warning, letting your pinky slide over the satiny fabric of her underwear.
It wasn’t what she normally wore, and you couldn’t help the wolfish grin that took over your features.
She had worn lingerie for you.
Maybe that should have stopped you. Made you consider that you wouldn’t get anything if you kept pushing, but again you couldn’t seem to help yourself.
“Will you be in the Ireland friends and family section then?” Leah asked, wiggling her eyebrows at your girlfriend. “Cause I don’t think my family or Less’ will enjoy you wearing the opposing team’s jersey,”
You made a noise like you were considering it as you finally slid your hand up and cupped your girlfriend’s heat. “I don’t think I’d feel at home though. Surely your family can deal with it right Less?”
Alessia nodded once, very stiffly. “My family loves you no matter what you’re wearing,”
You smiled impishly at her, adding just a little more pressure to her core.
She shifted in her seat, leaning very close to your ear, as Ella started talking about some movie she and Joe had watched, taking the attention of the rest of Alessia’s teammates.
“They’d even love you if you had to wear your collar at the game,” She chuckled darkly in your ear, her voice soft enough to get lost in the noise of the restaurant as her free hand yet again caught your wrist and pulled your hand back to a much more innocent position. “Now behave, or I promise you’ll regret it,”
You pulled away, your devilish smirk only getting broader. “No,”
Her eyebrows furrowed her expression something between anger and concern and warning, like she was trying to figure out why you were pushing the boundaries when you never did before.
You wiggled yours in return, offering her nothing else before joining the conversation of her teammates.
You weren’t ready to talk yet.
You were too content digging yourself deeper and deeper.
*****
You continue to push Alessia all throughout dinner, taking every opportunity to make her blush or to creep your hand further up her thigh. At one point you had even wiggled a finger beneath her underwear before she could stop you.
And your behavior hadn’t stopped once you left the restaurant.
You definitely placed your hand far too low on her waist as you and your friends walked back to the hotel the UFC had rented for you, and winked cheekily at the fans as you entered the building, spending far too long signing things and flirting just to annoy your girlfriend.
You knew from the “come on darling,” and the way she wrapped her arm around you, her fingers closing gently around the back of your neck that you were in serious trouble as she led you into the hotel and to the elevator.
“Good luck mate,” Leah nodded towards you as she stepped into her hotel room after Mary and Ella. “Think you’re gonna need it after that show,”
She tilted her head toward your girlfriend glaring a hole in Leah’s doorframe.
“Good night Leah,” Your girlfriend bit out, pressing her thumb into the space at the very center of the back of your neck.
Leah rolled her eyes at the movement, well aware of the dynamic between you and your girlfriend. More aware than most of her teammates for both club and country because of how long you had known her. “Right you two, do have too much fun,”
You stared at the door for a long moment after it closed, the tension in your chest bleeding down to your stomach.
You knew your time was up. That you would have to pay the piper so to speak, and it had guilt swirling along with the unpleasantness.
You knew that all you had to do was utter a word and it would all be over.
You knew that Alessia would stick to your limits, no matter how hard you pushed her, but you couldn’t help the… lingering anxiety that came from your past relationships.
The ones that took advantage of your submissiveness, and the unhealthy way you had always chosen to deal with stress. The ones that ignored your pain for their own pleasure.
“Come on then,” Alessia said, very gently running the nail of her thumb down the length of the back of your neck, and squeezing your shoulder.
You hummed, allowing her to lead you down the hallway to your own hotel room door, but she paused before she opened it. You looked up at her, realizing suddenly that you were trapped between her and the door.
She stepped closer so your noses were nearly touching. She dragged her hand from your neck to your chin, using her thumb to tilt your head to where she wanted it.
“I love you,” She said, her voice soft and sincere. “No matter what,”
She leaned in the last centimeter separating you, connecting your lips in a very sweet kiss.
You leaned into it, opening your mouth when her tongue poked out, welcoming it and meeting it with your own so they spun in a slow dance.
It was the reminder that you desperately needed.
The promise that she would take care of you, even when you acted like a brat.
She pulled away just enough to disconnect your lips, and your mouths separated with a low pop.
“Remind me of your colors,” Alessia said, her thumb running across your cheek.
“Green for good, yellow for slow down, and red for stop,” You recited, your voice breathless.
“Good girl,” She hummed. “Open the door, and take off your shirt and pants once we get inside,”
You swallowed hard at the change of tone.
“Yes Miss,” You said, already pulling the key card from the back pocket of your jeans. You didn’t look away from her as you fumbled until you heard the lock on the door beep, and clumsily pushed it open.
You stumbled backward, unwilling to break eye contact with your girlfriend because you knew you would probably get very little of it tonight.
She turned away from you as soon as the door slammed shut, busying herself with something you didn’t know.
“I believe I told you to do something,” She said, not even sparing a look over her shoulder at you, and you realized you had been staring for too long.
You cleared your throat, your fingers trembling as they unbuttoned your straining shirt.
You carefully pulled the satin materials from your shoulders, folding it neatly and laying it on the bed before you started on your pants.
It took you three tries to undo the button, the zipper getting caught in the stretchy material of your boxers. You peeled your tight jeans down your legs, folding them and placing them next to your shirt.
You felt Alessia’s presence behind you as you pulled off your shoes and socks.
As soon as they had been placed in their rightful place, her hand found its way to your bare back.
The touch was soothing and grounding and exactly what you needed to combat the slightly floaty feeling in your brain.
The hand slid up your back, all the way to your neck.
“Kneel,”
The soft squeeze on the back of your neck was like magic, as was the soft, but stern order.
You sank to your knees without question, your butt resting on your heels, your hands facing palm up on your thighs, your back straight and your head bowed, as the tension in your chest slowly ebbed away.
“I think we need to have a chat,” She continued, the hand on your neck sliding up to run through the hair at the base of your skull. Her nails scratched soothingly at your scalp. “Because your behavior in the restaurant is not the behavior of the good girl I trained,”
You grunted, glaring at a spot in the carpet.
You didn’t want to talk.
You already had to talk to Dana, to your coaches, and to the media. You had nothing left to say.
“Do you want to tell me what that was about at dinner?” She asked you, the fingers on your scalp wrapping through your curls. She gave it a sharp tug, forcing you to look up at her. “Because I’d really like to know what the fuck you were playing at,”
Her blue eyes burned into you, concerned and… something else lingering below the surface.
“I wasn’t playing at anything,” You grit out.
She raised a perfect eyebrow at you, as she searched your face.
“Is this because your fight was canceled?”
You didn’t answer her, unwilling to admit how… off balanced it made you feel.
But that was enough of an answer for her.
Her eyes softened minutely. “Baby,”
You shook your head.
You didn’t want her sympathy or her pity.
You wanted her to crush you.
“Alright,” She signed, tilting your head back so far it was painful. “I’m going to give you 2 options. We can call Clarke and Lexa and they can run you through a workout,”
You shivered at the mention of your respective striking and jujitsu coaches, knowing already that whatever the alternative was, you would be choosing it.
“Or you can take a punishment of my choosing,” She finished. “It won’t be an easy one,”
“I’ll take a punishment,” You muttered after a beat.
You didn't need easy right now.
She hummed, holding you close for a long second, and you relished in the attention.
That had been why you acted out at all anyway.
She dropped her hold on your hair suddenly, and you crashed back on your knees.
“On the wall,” She said, completely cutting contact with you, and walking towards the little kitchen area of the suite.
You let out a shaky breath, pushing yourself to your feet, and shuffled over to the wall next to the television across from the couch.
You turned to face the couch, wincing when Alessia pulled a wine glass out of the cabinet and a jug of water from the counter and returned to you.
She carefully filled the glass to the halfway mark, before her attention turned to you.
You knew immediately what punishment she had chosen.
The rules were simple, you would balance the glass in one of the designated calisthenic positions. If the water spilled, or the glass fell then you would move to the next position. The punishment would be over when you made it through all 15 positions to Alessia’s satisfaction, or if you safeworded.
It sounded easy, or like it wouldn’t be effective, but that was entirely wrong. It was the punishment that you hated the most.
Your stomach never failed to drop when Alessia approached you with the wine glass and water. Just the sight of her with it was enough to have your muscles quivering at the impending fatigue.
“Ready darling?”
You made a low sound, leaning back against the wall, bending your knees, and getting into the first position.
A wall sits with your knees pressed together to focus the pressure on your quads.
She used a hand on your shoulder to push you further down the wall until your thighs sat parallel to the floor, and then very carefully balanced the stem of the wine glass between your knees so the base just barely brushed your hamstring.
You frowned. She usually balanced it on top of your legs further up your thighs so all you had to do was stay level. But where it was now meant that you would have to stay level and squeeze with your adductors so it didn’t slip and spill the water.
“Tell me your color,” She said, her thumb sweeping under your chin, drawing your eyes away from the glass to meet her blue.
“Green,” you murmured, leaning into the gentle touch.
“Good,” She hummed, cupping your cheek for another long second before she pulled away. “I’ll be right there, reading my book,”
Your gaze trailed after her as she settled herself on the couch directly across from you, picking up the 7 Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. She easily found her page and began to read.
You glanced back to the balancing glass between your knees. It was already shaking slightly, the liquid vibrating around the bowl of the glass with the effort of your muscles to keep it in place.
It irritated you that you could already feel your quads and adductors quivering. It was pathetic that they were already fatigued after only 30 seconds.
You grit your teeth, letting your hips slip down further so you could squeeze with your glutes to take a little bit of the pressure off of your adductors. The glass shifted minutely, and the water inside sloshed dangerously before it settled.
Your eyes flickered back up to Alessia, wondering if she saw it too, but her eyes stayed planted in her book.
That irritated you too.
The only upside to your fight being canceled was that you got to spend more time with her. You wouldn’t have to split your attention between her and not getting your face caved in.
Now you didn’t even have that.
You thought of safewording and forcing an early end to your punishment. It would be a violation of the rules though.
But when she found out that you broke her trust (the most severe infraction you could ever commit) she might choose a more… harsh punishment. One of the ones that was listed in the soft limits the two of you had agreed upon. One that would separate you from reality, and leave you feeling floaty and thoroughly controlled. Thoroughly owned.
A part of you wanted her to forcibly put you in your place. To disregard how bad it would feel tomorrow and the bad memories it would bring up for you, and just demolish you. To crush your will and grind you into dust. To beat you into oblivion.
It was what your opponent would have done anyway.
You knew Alessia would never agree to it while you were this upset. She didn’t like to give in to your self-destructive tendencies.
The glass between your knees shook again, drawing your attention back to the warm fire setting deeply into your quads. They would ache tomorrow you were sure, but then again wasn’t that part of the point?
It would be a reminder that even when she wasn’t with you, you belonged to Alessia. It was an invisible mark that claimed you. That reminded you she would always take control when you felt dangerously unstable.
And then it clicked.
This punishment was Alessia’s favorite because it was based on your choice to obey her. Your choice to push your body to its limits to please her. Your choice to give her control over you.
She didn’t need to use a belt or a paddle to bend you to her will.
She just had to ask.
You just had to relax and trust that she would take care of you.
You let out a long breath, counting down from 3 in your head. You let it fall back into the wall with a low thump and your shoulders sagged, as the remaining tension in your chest drained out of you.
“Good girl,” Alessia said softly, and the page of her book turned. Your eyes darted back to her, hoping that they would be on you, but they weren’t.
She looked so composed, both legs tucked under her, reading her book. It was diametrically opposed to how you felt, completely out of control. A quivering mess fighting to stay in a simple wall sit.
It further reminded you of your place, and the weight of it was enough to have your eyes sliding closed.
You focused on your breathing, 3 seconds and 3 seconds out. Deep and slow.
You lasted for more breaths before the glass slid from between your legs, landing on the carpeted floor with a light thud.
Your eyes snapped open, and again you expected to meet Alessia’s eyes, but they remained trained on her book.
“Next please,” She said softly, flipping another page in her book.
You slid down the wall to the floor, sucking in another long breath as you nodded, wishing that she would just look at you, but you knew that was part of the punishment too.
You took another breath as you rolled over to your stomach and sat yourself up on your elbows, squeezing your core. It was a slightly modified plank designed to show off the muscles in your back and arms for the benefit of your girlfriend and to give your legs a break for a bit.
She waited until you were in a position to stand, slowly padding over to you and grabbing the wine glass off of the floor.
She paused next to you, and you felt the way her eyes dragged across the muscles on your back.
“Always so pretty for me,” She hummed and you heard the water as she refilled the glass. “Too bad you can’t have the reward I had planned,”
Her touch lingered as she carefully balanced it between your shoulder blades, and stepped away.
“Let’s see if you can beat your best time on this one,” She said, talking more at you than to you. “Your record is 22 minutes, which isn’t quite championship timing. I think you need to make it at least 25,”
You groaned.
Her competitive streak was legendary and often a part of your punishment when you had been particularly ornery. You switched positions at her pleasure, so you knew you would be planking all night if you couldn’t break 25 minutes.
It was like when she decided you needed to break your edging record.
There would be no mercy unless you safeworded.
You focused on your breathing as she sauntered back to the couch, fighting to keep your core and back muscles locked to prevent the glass from tipping.
Your abs clenched, and you so badly wanted to roll your shoulders to relieve the tension building in the space between them. The space holding the glass.
You focused on the sound of Alessia’s breathing. Each rhythmic inhale and exhale like the clicking of a metronome, broken only by the occasional fluttering of a page.
You wished she had put the timer in front of you so you could see how long you had left.
But then again that would probably be worse.
You always found it harder to go the distance in a fight when you could see the clock ticking down. It always made you feel more exhausted at the end of the round, and made standing up off of your stool at the start of the next round that much harder.
You sucked in another breath, refocusing on the sounds of Alessia’s inhales and exhales. You counted each one, letting them wash over you and lul the fog slowly seeping through the crevices in your brain.
It let you forget the trembling in your core muscles and the sting between your shoulders. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was each of Alessia’s breaths, and your ability to please her.
To be honest, you forgot about the water balancing on your back.
You shifted, lifting your head so you could watch Alessia, and that sent the glass tumbling to the floor with a low thud.
She looked up at the noise, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing the glass.
“Good job darling. You made time.” She rewarded you by meeting her eyes for a long second and flashing you a winning smile. “Position 3,”
You took another deep breath as she filled the glass.
You pushed yourself up into a pushup position, slowly lifting your right arm and left leg so they extended.
Your arms shook immediately, and it was then that you recognized just how exhausted you were already. Your core ached in a way that was edging on unpleasant, and your back felt like you had run 5 rounds with your jujitsu coach.
It was strange that you felt so drained and you had only made it through 2 positions.
Alessia waited until you were stable before she balanced the glass in the very same area between your shoulder blades.
The spot that felt so tight.
You knew you weren’t going to last long before she even stepped away. But you tried to breathe through it. You tried to ignore the little beads of sweat collecting at the small of your back, and the cramp setting in just below the glass, radiating up to your neck.
You deserved the pain. You had done your damndest to make sure Alessia gave it to you.
“Tell me your color,” Alessia said, her voice dripping dominance, sending a shiver down your spine and causing the glass to tumble off your back.
You collapsed to the floor.
You hadn’t even made it a minute.
“‘M ok,” You murmured into the carpet, each breath rattling as it left your lips.
You hadn’t even lasted long enough for Alessia to make it back to her seat.
It was pathetic.
“That’s not what I asked you,” She said, crouching next to you, her hand resting on the throbbing space between your shoulders. “Tell me what your color is,”
Your brain ran into overdrive, taking stock of the burn in your thighs, and the way the muscles in your back were locked up tight, and before you could even think through all the reasons why you shouldn’t safe word, “red,” was falling from your lips.
You had been red before you even started position 3, you realized.
“Good girl,” She said, settling fully down beside you, her hand running soothingly up and down your sweat-soaked back. “You did so well for me, and I’m so proud of you for knowing your limits,”
You groaned into the carpet as warmth spread through your chest, chasing away the last of the tightness that had been there since Dana caught you after the weigh-ins.
“‘M sorry for pushing you,” You mumbled, your words nearly getting lost in the floor. “Didn’t know how to…”
You trailed off, losing your train of thought. You weren’t even sure what you didn’t know how to do, only that antagonizing your girlfriend. Your miss. Had been the only way that seemed to make sense to achieve it.
“I know darling,” She hummed, gripping under your arms and shifting so your head was resting in her lap and your upper body was between her legs. “Take some deep breaths for me, and then we’ll get you cleaned up and we can cuddle,”
You made a low sound of agreement. You felt content with her completely around you, her scent enveloping you, and her hands running gently through your tangled hair.
She was the stability to your rocky seas, and you trusted that she would take care of you, just like she had already tonight.
A cuddle sounded perfect because it was perfect.
It was everything you needed. She was everything you needed.
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Seven Several Sentence Sunday🥹
I’m writing another chronic pain!Buck fic except this time it’s bucktommy <3
“Evan?” Tommy asks, his voice deep and gravelly. If it were any other day Buck would find that incredibly attractive. Unfortunately he isn’t able to enjoy it. Now that he’s aware of the pain in his leg it only seems to get worse. His leg throbs, it feels like his bones are trying to bully their way out of his flesh. He clenches his eyes shut as he wills his leg to calm down.
“‘M fine,” he gets out through a clenched jaw.
Tommy squints at him, tilting his head to the side. “Evan,” he repeats in a way that Buck knows means he doesn’t believe him for a second.
“Just sore,” Buck says, breathing deeply.
“Your leg?” Tommy asks and Buck simply nods, a tear escaping from his eyes. Tommy raises his hand to his face, gently wiping away the tear drop with his thumb.
“How’d you know?” Buck mumbles, he didn’t think he’d mentioned his pain to Tommy before.
“Ah, Eddie may have mentioned it one time,” Tommy replies.
Buck frowns. “You two talk about me?”
To that Tommy smiles. “‘Course. Had to find out information about the cute firefighter somehow.”
Buck smiles but it comes out more as a grimace as a particularly painful throb makes its way through his leg. “Sorry,” he starts, “I know this wasn’t what you were expecting to wake up to.”
Tommy scrunches his eyebrows at him and Buck wonders if he’s fucked up again. “Evan, are you— are you apologising for being in pain?”
Buck ducks his head. “I—I just— I’m sorry in advance for not being much fun right now.”
Tommy places his fingers under Buck’s chin, tilting his head up so that he’s looking at his eyes. “Hey, you’re in pain, and I’m your boyfriend, that means it’s my job to take care of you now. If you’ll let me?”
“You—you want to take care of me?” Buck says, eyes widening at Tommy.
Tommy frowns again. “Of course I do,” he says, placing a gentle kiss to Buck’s forehead.
Tags for SSS:
@bidisasterevankinard @fortheloveofbuddie @jeeyuns @wildlife4life @honestlydarkprincess @eddiebabygirldiaz @spagheddiediaz @jesuisici33 @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @giddyupbuck @eowon @elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @rainbow-nerdss @cal-daisies-and-briars @evanbegins @diazsdimples @wikiangela @underwaterninja13 @daffi-990 @aspecbuddie @lover-of-mine @nmcggg @tizniz @monsterrae1 @smilingbuckley @loveyouanyway @hippolotamus @incorrect9-1-1 @buckdefencesquad @actualalligator @pirrusstuff @actuallyitsellie @dangerpronebuddie @babybibuck @exhuastedpigeon @perfectlysunny02 @buddieswhvre @loserdiaz @rogerzsteven @bucksbignaturals (let me know if you want to be added or removed)
#911 abc#911 fandom#evan buck buckley#tommy kinard#chronic pain bucktommy#purple writes#seven sentence sunday#911#911 show#911 fic#usercam
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