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marisferasiop · 7 months

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Eyes on Me

Ao3 link

Word count: 4300

Pairing: afab reader/Dieter Bravo/Cecil (Revenge for Jolly!)

Rating: so explicit. MINORS DNI:: Clicking read more implies your consent!

Warnings: Chastity play, orgasm delay/denial, public use of sex toys under clothing, pegging, canon typical drugs/alcohol use (so... A lot, but not in graphic detail), oral, anal, piv, established relationship - no condoms, cum eating, degradation play, subby boys/domme afab reader, no use of y/n and no descriptors other than having hair, enthusiastic consent, hand jobs, cock warming, a tremendous amount of fluff

Summary: Dieter Bravo is up for his second Oscar after Cliff Beasts 6 (shockingly) propelled him back into the spotlight. He's (mostly) sober and in one of his first solid relationships of his life. All he needed was a firm and indulgent hand. With you and Cecil, he gets everything he could hope for.

Or: You and Cecil are the other two thirds of Dieter's very- public polycule. You take care of him before and after a red carpet event, in your own special way. Both of your sweet, easy boys only ever beg for more.

🎥🎬🍿🏆🤵🏻‍♂️💃🏽🤵🏻‍♂️🎥🎬🍿🏆🤵🏻‍♂️💃🏽🤵🏻‍♂️🎥🎬🍿🏆🤵🏻‍♂️💃🏽🤵🏻‍♂️

It's four hours until the Oscars and Lead Actor nominee Dieter Bravo, instead of being in a makeup chair getting dolled up by designer artists and enduring endless photoshoots, is suffering.

At least, to the untrained eye, he might be. You know different. You watch the tears break the waterline, dribbling into his ears, and smirk, petting Cecil for his hard work.

"Please-- please, mamí -- I need to cum," Dieter chokes, this stomach flexing hard, trying to drill his hips upward into Cecil's mouth. Cecil takes his whole length easily, his gag reflex long since trained out of him.

Dieter has you to thank for that, he knows. He's seen what you do with Cecil when he's across the world on a set and you're having fun at his house. You send videos and instructions on what he should do to himself when he watches them. When he's away, he watches endless loops of Cecil on a Sybian, deep throating a toy suctioned to the wall, or bound on all fours, his ass in the air while you toy him mercilessly, or on his back with no bondage but his own will, while you suck his cock slow and cruel, his whines and tears a symphony for Dieter to jerk off to in his trailer, alone.

Dieter just whines harder when Cecil moves with him, dutifully keeping the languid pace you set. He's fun, loves drugs and cutting loose and being goofy. Deiter adores him. But he's also a well-trained pet; nothing will make Cecil pause like the prospect of disappointing you.

You had both come into Dieter's life nine months ago, already together. He had met Cecil first, at a club where the guy was trying (and succeeding very well) at bumming drinks and hits off joints from the crowd at large. Dieter had watched him for a long moment that felt suspended in time (he had been high as fuck-- it could have been barely a minute) before he motioned the pretty young thing over. Cecil had been rumpled in jeans, boots, and a tee shirt, but his face was gorgeous, and Dieter had liked his energy. When he asked Cecil to come home with him, Cecil had straightened.

"My lady won't like being left out," he had said, which had struck Dieter square in the chest.

"You got a lady?" He'd asked. Cecil nodded, the motion loose from his heavy intoxication.

"I'm looking for a third. We do that now 'n then. You think I'm handsome?" Cecil had blinked up at Dieter with those huge soft eyes and Dieter had been helpless to nod.

"I do. Does she love you?"

"She loves me like no one ever has. I love her. She's so good to me, Dee," Cecil's eyes had gotten huge and wet, and Dieter only nodded. "She'd be really good to you."

"Can I be your third?"

Cecil had taken Dieter back to the apartment you and he were renting. He had been with you for over a year already, and was well-used to doing whatever you told him to do. Dieter had met plenty of dommes, women who he went to his knees for easily, but he had never met someone as easy to drop and open his mouth as Cecil. Hell, Dieter himself had never met someone he was more than willing to be compliant to than you.

That night, you had coaxed him easily to his knees. He's hardly been off them since.

Your soothing voice drags him back to the present.

"Now baby, we talked about this. Use your words correctly. Do you really need to? Are you going to use your word?" You ask, kneeling behind Cecil, your strap deep in his ass. He moans around Dieter's girth and rocks his hips back, asking for more, his cock hanging heavy between his legs. You drag your hand up his sweaty spine, into his hair, holding him down, his slick lips flush with Dieter's pubes.

"Agh! No! No, Mamí I can wait! Oh, fuck-- sssssCecil--!"

Dieter blinks down at Cecil and immediately drops his head back to stare unseeing at the ceiling. He is wholly unable to watch what's happening to him- he's on a hairtrigger as it is. The very sight of Cecil's glassy, unfocused eyes as he floats along in his subspace, red-faced and choking on Dieter's cock, his ass stuffed with yours, is nearly too much to bear.

He wants to grab so bad, but you told him not to touch- his fingers twist in the sheets by his head, instead. You watch him writhe, his jaw dropping and brow crumpling in distress as Cecil chokes hard, running out of oxygen, and you yank him up and off.

A long thick line of spit connects Cecil's swollen, slack lips to the tip of Dieter's throbbing cock. Dieter makes a strangled sound at the sight of it, his balls crawling up, but he bites his lip hard to distract himself from the imminent need to come. You slap him once, hard, on the inner thigh and he jolts with a heady whine.

"Roll over, Dee," you command, and he does, flopping to his front like a despondent ragdoll. Predicting your next command, he wriggles down and folds himself over the edge of the bed. "Good boy, Dieter. Cecil, eat his ass, baby. I need him nice and wet for his toy. Don't let him come, remember?"

"Yes, mamí," Cecil murmurs, twisting his hips back into yours mindlessly, and dives his face between Dieter's cheeks.

"Fuck," Dieter whines, reaching back to hold himself open. He desperately wants to fist his cock, to disobey, but he knows if he does, you won't follow through with the scene today. And shockingly, he wants that endgame more. You've managed to teach him how to relish in the glory of delayed gratification, and he's revelling in it now.

Cecil, for his part, absolutely devours him. Burying his face between someone's legs is a pleasure only second to burying his cock somewhere agreeable. After more than a year with you, he knows that he will get his pleasure, especially if he's good enough. You make him feel good, and now he has Dieter, too. It blows his mind, sometimes, that you had taken him in when he was on the verge of a mental break, cared for him, gave him something to work toward and have agency in. He loves you. There is nothing he won't do that you could possibly command. Your disappointment, to him, is tantamount to the apocalypse- unfathomable and terrifying. He does his best to make sure he never displeases you, and it rarely happens.

He adores the feel of your cock inside him, just sitting, rocking slowly and unevenly. It sends little frissions of electric pleasure up his spine. Cecil tips his hips up and back, spreads his knees another centimeter apart, his tongue buried as deep as he can get it in Dieter's clenching asshole. Instead of reaching down to fist his cock- you haven't said he could touch himself yet- he wraps his forearms under Dee's hips, his hands on the top rise of his narrow little ass, and pins him, rendering the much larger man wide open and immobile. He sucks on the rim and then, when Dieter clenches around him tellingly, slides his hand under, cinching his long fingers tight around the base of that fat cock, and stiffens his tongue to plunge back inside when Dieter inevitably bucks backward away from the pinch of pain.

He had been about to come.

"Fucking-- CECIL!" Dieter howls, writhing in his grip. You smack Dieter's ass, hard enough to leave a handprint and make the muscle wobble. Cecil pulls his tongue out and bites the red swell of flesh, making Dieter yelp indignantly.

"Don't you yell at my perfect boy, Deiter Bravo. He's doing what he was told to do; you are misbehaving. Don't think I can't see you trying to rub off on the sheets."

Dieter whines and goes limp, hissing when Cecil backs away at your command. You reach and drizzle lube over Cecil's long, pretty fingers and drop a kiss on his cheekbone. "Use your fingers, baby. Open him up real nice for our toy."

Cecil easily slips two spidery fingers up inside, avoiding Dieter's prostate, and scissors them. He lays his cheek on Dee's ass and watches the slide of his digits in and out, feeling something similar from behind on himself as you rock into him. When he slides a third finger inside, you gift him a firm slide over his own prostate, making his cock drool onto the wood floor between his knees. If you're not careful, you'll milk him dry before he can even come. And he's been too good a boy for that.

"Enough, baby. Hand me the plug, please," you croon, scritching through Cecil's hair. He pulls his fingers out, smirking when Dieter whines at the loss, and hands you the silicone plug Dieter will be wearing until you take it out tonight.

It's silicone and flexible, not overly large, but a constant reminder when he's moving, walking, or sitting. It's just short enough to tease his gland, or brush it when he sits. As long as he doesn't squirm, it's fine. Dieter whines when you seat it easily and pat the base, making him clench.

"Is it the vibrating one?" He asks, slurring his words like he's wasted.

"No, you asked for no surprises in case you have to go up and give a speech," you respond. He nods and slides down to sit on his heels in front of Cecil, letting the smaller man rut against him, seeking a kiss.

"Please, mamí," Cecil whines, bucking hard when Dieter sneaks a hand down to rub his whole wide palm over and then cup Cecil's purpling dick.

"Good boy, Cecil. Stand up with me now. Dee, hands by your feet. Put your head back on the bed." You grip Cecil's hips and haul him up, standing without pulling out the rainbow horse cock toy you have him impaled on. Dieter settles on his heels, his dick softening with lack of attention, and drops his head backward onto the mattress. "Open up."

Cecil's not allowed to touch his cock unless you tell him he can. He whimpers and waits, teary-eyed and drooling with desperation as you reach down and pump him a few times, notching his sticky-wet head between Dieter's lips.

"Fuck yourself 'til you cum, baby boy. You've been so good for me," you croon, petting him everywhere you can reach while he ruts forward into Dee's throat and back onto you. It takes mere seconds- he's far too wound up. Dieter swallows his load, licking and laving his tongue over Cecil's softening length to clean him of every drop while he shudders and whines at the sensitivity.

"Good boy, Cecil. I want you to take Dee to the bath and wash yourselves up. I'll call Bec," you pull your cock out of Cecil's ass and let him go, watching them stumble to the en suite while you dig for your cell and call his stylist and preferred on-retainer makeup and hair artist.

They are both due within the hour, and you are due an orgasm. You pick up the cock cage Dieter will need for the evening and saunter into the bathroom.

🎥🎬🍿🏆💃🏽🤵🏻‍♂️🤵🏻‍♂️🎥🎬🍿🏆🤵🏻‍♂️💃🏽🤵🏻‍♂️🎥🎬🍿🏆🤵🏻‍♂️💃🏽🤵🏻‍♂️

Dieter fucking hates red carpet events. He takes no interviews down the row, only holds still for a scant few photos, and disappears inside quickly to find his seat and start swiping drinks off waiters' trays. His head is swimming with his anxiety meds and the dregs of the joint he'd smoked on the way over.

He needs a drink. Something stronger than champers.

Minutes later, he spots you and Cecil being ushered in the audience entrance and led toward his reserved row. You look stunning in a gown he picked out-- barely more than a sash, completely open to the waist in the front and back, a gold band about the natural waist to cinch it- and nothing underneath but carefully placed tape and a stick-on filming guard over your pussy. He adjusts his weight in his seat and curses the pinch of the cage on his cock for the thousandth time.

Cecil looks incredibly out of place despite the tidy cut of the suit and how pretty he is. Bec had done wonders with his gorgeous black curls. His thick scruff and sharp cheekbones catch the lighting perfectly as he follows you like a puppy with his typical slouching gait. Dieter wonders idly how many edibles you let him have before you came. His eyes are glassy but he's behaving- it can't have been too many. He wonders if you have more in that tiny clutch, or squirreled away in Cecil's pockets.

"Would you like a drink miss? Sirs?"

You give the waiter a kind smile and set your clutch on the table. "A cherry Italian margarita for me, please. And two double Taliskers, neat." The waiter nods once and disappears. Dieter reaches up and takes your hand, urging you to sit. You each take a side, effectively blocking him from dealing with whoever's assigned to be his row partner.

Cecil drops a hand on his thigh and leaves it there, and you take Dieter's opposite hand, and soon (not soon enough) the lights dim and the show begins.

🎥🎬🍿🏆🤵🏻‍♂️💃🏽🤵🏻‍♂️🎥🎬🍿🏆🤵🏻‍♂️💃🏽🤵🏻‍♂️🎥🎬🍿🏆🤵🏻‍♂️💃🏽🤵🏻‍♂️

He's absolutely fucked.

There's cold metal in his fist and a dull ache in his pants, and his eyes can't focus on a thing. He can feel Cecil nearby; those long, pretty hands are on him. One of you has kept a hand on him all night. He likes it. He looks down at Cecil's long, slim hand on his ribs, overlapping the velvet lapel and the loose buttons there and tries to listen through the cacophony of music to what he's saying.

"Hmm?" He squints, dropping his forehead down to Cecil's shoulder. The man shouts and it's still nearly drowned out.

Something about you going out to call the car.

He doesn't remember who gave him the coke, or the last five drinks, but he knows he and Cecil have been partaking since he left the awards stage with his new trophy. You had a few drinks and mostly mingled, watching from the edges while they danced and got absolutely smashed.

He kisses Cecil messily on the dance floor, there in the middle of the after-party, and hears the sussurus of shutters clicking; the few paps allowed in getting their gotcha shots for the night.

Fuck 'em. He came out publicly as bi ages ago, and as poly with you two sometime in the last several months. It's nothing new. Maybe to the tabloids it's just juicy, considering he just won for a goddamn cowboy movie. He hasn't been seen being a menace or an embarrassment for months- they're thirsty.

Cecil kisses him back like a starved man, he always does. Dieter thrives on it, especially when everything is too loud and too much. You're both good at dampening the crowd, in different ways. He sucks on Cecil's tongue like a cock and pants into his open mouth, begging to go home, to come.

"I wanna fuck her," Dieter whines, his legs shaking when Cecil grins against his mouth and slots a thigh between his legs. The pressure on his heavy balls, his caged cock, is unbearable. The toy in his ass is starting to chafe, which is what prompted you to go get the car. He's remembering now.

"She's probably waiting on us now, c'mon," Cecil pants. He takes Dieter's hand and leads him through the press of the crowd toward the doors. He swipes a bottle of liquor off a tray and knocks back two drinks from their table (not theirs- some other actor's remains). They frot again in the elevator down from the rooftop, with Cecil against the wall, utterly soft and moaning encouragingly while Dieter pins him with his bigger frame and holds his face. There are other people in here, Dieter thinks passively, but he couldn't care less. He won, and he's about to take two people home he cares about. He's high and drunk, and happy. It's a nice change of pace from his usual lonely depressive benders.

The doors open, and suddenly they're in an absolute swarm of paps crowded into the lobby.

Dieter squints against the complete wall of flashing lights and slides his dark glasses up his nose. He clutches his Oscar tighter and pulls Cecil behind him, walking the harrowing path out to the relative safety of the covered garage.

You're leaning on a guardrail there, talking to someone on your phone. You smile at both of them and wave them over. For as stoned and drunk as he is, Cecil is the more steady on his feet. He leads Dieter over to you in a mostly straight line and you let him fold into your chest.

"Have you had fun, baby?" You ask, carding through his gelled, sweaty, tacky hair. He nods and fumbles for your skin, wanting you closer.

"'s a good party," he slurs, and you huff a laugh of agreement into his shoulder. The car pulls up behind him and you three pile in.

Dieter watches LA speed by outside the tinted windows, nursing the bottle of tequila Cecil had swiped. They trade it back and forth. He wants you to rub him off, but he knows you'll make him wait to come til you get home. Even if you start now, he'll have no relief for ages. If he's patient, a trait you've taught him well, he'll get everything he wants and more.

He wants to explode into a billion pieces and then those pieces dissolve, to be nothing for a while. To be held in yours and Cecil's hands, and everything is quiet and nothing at all is expected of him.

"Cecil, baby," you say, and he lolls his head over to hum at you in question. Dieter blinks and takes the bottle back when you beckon the younger man across the limo's width with a crook of your finger.

"Hasn't Dieter been such a good boy tonight, baby?"

"Hmm. Yes, mamí. He has. Won a pretty award and made his nice speech. Shared all his friends and booze and drugs with us. He wants to fuck you," Cecil says bluntly. He can't lie to you for shit. Anything that's told to him is told to you, even if it's nothing.

Dieter swallows and looks at you.

"Does he?" You cup Cecil under his chin and make him kneel between your knees on the floor of the limo. He goes easy. Dieter feels his cock protesting the snug cage again and winces.

"We'll be home in ten minutes, baby. He wants to bend me over the second we get in the door, doesn't he?" You urge Cecil to turn and sit on the ledge of the seat between your thighs. You reach around him and open his trousers. Dieter's eyes are riveted on your hands.

"Yeah mamí, he does. Wants to fuck you so bad, he's gonna come too soon. He's gonna wanna go twice. Oh, shit," he gasps, hands curling on the outsides of your thighs. He keeps his dark eyes on dieter, enjoying being put on display.

Cecil is simple- you both think he's pretty, and you care for him, and he wants for nothing, so he likes to be what you want- a toy. He only ruts a little into the loose curl of your fist and your other hand comes up under his chin, pulling him back against you. The back of his head goes over your shoulder; he's pulled taut against you and you're stroking him to fullness.

"Keep your hands away, baby. I don't need those. If he's gonna fuck me, we gotta take care of you, right? You've been a good boy, too. You kept our pretty boy safe tonight, kept your hands on him. Made sure no one gave him anything nasty, right? What all did you have baby?"

Cecil shudders when you pull him out of his trousers. You watch Dieter, his eyes like glinting black gems in the passing streetlights. He is about to snap. You can see him adjusting his weight on the seat very minutely.

"Dieter. Come sit across from us. Straight on your ass, hands on your thighs," you command, and he nearly falls over in his scramble to comply. "Cecil?"

"We had lots of drinks, mamí. Mostly weed. A few lines of coke. Not much. Mos- ahhh-- mostly weed."

"Thank you baby. Such a good boy. Isn't he, Dieter?" You ask. Dieter blinks at you owlishly and nods. "Tell him, sweetheart."

"You're so good Cecil. So pretty. Such a good boy. Kept me safe, from them, and myself."

Cecil whines and nods, desperately pleased. He loves being praised so thoroughly. You tighten your fist around him and start stripping it hard, coaxing a quick and brutal orgasm out. You've only got a few minutes left.

His hands scrabble at the backs of your knees. Dieter watches your hand, panting, wanting to cup himself. Mindlessly, he does, and you stop, your hand tight around Cecil's base. He whines pathetically and thrusts his hips up, chasing friction. Your hand under his jaw tightens and Cecil sags against you, leaning into it.

"Are you allowed to touch my cock, Dieter?" You ask pointedly, and he gulps. He's been so good, he doesn't want to ruin his reward for a thoughtless gesture. He slides his hand away under your pinning glare, and you begin again.

This time, Cecil is already precariously on the edge. He comes with a sharp gasp as you're entering Dieter's neighborhood. He doesn't even hesitate when you hold your hand up, licking it clean while he comes down.

He sucks on your fingers and stares back at Dieter while the driver navigates the Hollywood hills. "I wanna kiss you," Dieter whines, and you smile.

"Come here then, sweetheart," you croon, and he folds forward on his knees, sandwiching Cecil tight between your chests as he dives over his shoulder and claims your mouth.

When the car parks, Dieter practically throws himself out of it, beelining for the door. You get out and thank the driver and help Cecil do up his pants (he's already mostly asleep) and follow at a more sedate pace. You find him in the bedroom, already naked and kneeling by the bed, practically vibrating. Cecil walks straight to the couch, kicks his pants off, and passes out on his front. You snort at him and turn back to Dieter.

"Come help me get these stickies off, sweetheart." You slink out of the completely seamless dress and are left in nothing but the pasties. He scrambles forward and gently picks the edges off one by one, peeling carefully on your tender flesh while you play with his hair. The long, thin silver chain with the key to his cock cage ends between your breasts in a tiny locket. He kisses over the red patches left behind by the stickers over your nipples and mound, and nuzzles the locket, whining faintly.

His eyes are so wide and soft and dark you could easily get lost in them. "Please, mamí."

You smile indulgently at him and nod. "Okay, sweet thing. Go get a towel and get on the bed."

He darts into the bathroom and comes back, eager. You take the key out of your locket and snick the tiny padlock open. When you pull the plastic sleeve off, he hisses as his cock immediately starts to inflate.

"Eager boy. What do you want to do to me, sweet thing?"

You pull the ring off from around him and cup his balls, making him flinch again. "I want you on all fours. Wanna hold your tits and kiss your neck while I fuck you til you come. Wanna come inside, and sleep there."

Your eyebrows raise at the thought he put into it. You glance at the Oscar glinting on the little table beside the bed. Best Lead Actor in a Drama Film, it says. Underneath, added tonight during the party: Dieter Bravo.

"I want that too, sweetheart. Give it to me?" You blink up at him, and he folds forward, melting over you.

He wants the plug out, and you remove it. After, he licks you til you're dripping and slides inside, basking for a long moment before draping his weight down and holding you tightly to all of him.

Dieter loves connection; skin contact. For all that he's never been alone for more than a day, LA is a lonely place. The spotlight is cold.

You're warm. Cecil is warm.

Dieter barely lasts ten minutes in the end. He tears up and clutches at you and empties himself, swirling fingers over your clit until you pulse around his tender, aching length inside. You let him stay there, and he wants to weep.

The comedown is hard. He hasn't been this intoxicated in a long time, now.

The loneliness has abated. You and Cecil give him everything he doesn't have already. He has money, fame, connections, too much attention, friends who want things and friends who want clout. Two Oscars.

He finally feels like he's won.

Cecil snores loudly across the room. Dieter plays with the ends of your hair until he too, drops off. They're both going to feel like absolute dog shit tomorrow. You text the personal chef who comes on Sundays to meal prep and ask for a tray of water and breakfast to be left outside, not expecting a response. She gives none. You listen to them snore for a long moment in the dark, simply being, and finally drift off.

#dieter bravo #the bubble #Cecil #revenge for jolly #pedro pascal characters #oscar isaac characters #reader insert #dieter/ Cecil/ you #dieter bravo/reader #dieter bravo / you #cecil / reader #cecil /you #boys whimpering #boys kissing #subby dieter #subby cecil #smut #minors dni

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wilsonsfatwhitecat · 10 months

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I want to scrap his puppy dog eyes out and eat them.

#james wilson #house md #hatecrimes md #puppy eyes #whimpering #fucking pathetic #i love pathetic men #robert sean leonard #dr wilson #baby boi #suck his dick

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transbunnyboi · 1 month

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Do you ever start fingerfucking yourself, dripping everywhere and you start panting and drooling like a stupid bunny because it feel so good, not even realising that you’re making your heat worse :3

#I’m literally whimpering rn #t4t breeding #breeding bitch #ftm bunny #bunny brat #bunny sub #bunny boi #bd/sm bunny #subby bunny #dumb bunny #ftm nsft #trans nsft #ftm bottom #ftm ns/fw #ftm sub #ftm puppy #bd/sm pet #breeding pet #queer nsft

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mysmuttyy · 7 months

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MUNCH | M.R

⚠️- oral (f receiving), possible manipulation, orgasm control, teasing, dirty words, sub/dom!mattheo.

🌈- y/n is pink & mattheo is red.

summary- y/n is mad at mattheo & he figures out how to make her forgive him.

HE SITS ACROSS FROM ME, staring holes through my soul. I try to ignore him, after all, I’ve kept my game up all day.. surely I can do it some more, right?

Pansy continues with her ramble, whinging about who I assume is Blaise. The two of them are currently in an argument, just like Mattheo and I. Except, nobody knows we’re in an argument.

That’s the difference between mine and Pansy’s relationship; mine is private, whereas hers might as well be broadcasted to the whole school.

His foot kicks mine, but I ignore it. He huffs, banging his hand on the table. Everyone around us jumps, but I only roll my eyes. “Stop being a stubborn little bitch and answer me.” His dark voice barks across the table.

I raise my brows at the annoying boy before me, standing up out of my seat. “You’re so fucking embarrassing.” I spit, storming away from the table, anger radiating off my body.

I unintentionally crash into a tall figure, body coming to a halt. Cedric Diggory places his hand on my shoulder, looking down at me with concern. Before any of us say a word, someone interrupts.

That someone is my possessive ass boyfriend, stomping his feet toward us. “Get your fucking hands off her, Diggory” He demands, pointing his index finger at the brunette standing too close to me, too close for Mattheo’s liking.

Diggory is quick to move away, hand no longer touching me. I huff, turning to face an overly angry Mattheo Riddle, who is towered over me.

“Why are you such a fucking fool?” I huff, hands placed on my hips. He rolls his brown eyes, blowing out a breath. I turn away from him, feet carrying me in the direction of the dungeons.

He follows behind, cursing at my quick pace. I murmur the password to the painted picture before me, stepping through the now opened doors. Mattheo follows in after me, gripping onto my arm, pulling me close to him.

I huff, turning my body to face his. His bulge presses against me, drenching the panties I wear under my short school skirt.

“I’m sorry, let me make it up to you.”

SILKY BLACK SHEETS TOUCH MY SKIN, my bare body pressed against the softness of his king size mattress. His strong body holds mine down, eyes locked with mine. I shiver under his warm touch, nerves flooding throughout my body.

“You’re gonna let me make it up to you, aren’t you baby?” He whispers, lips an inch away from mine. I swallow my nerves, hands cupping his cheeks. The man on top of me raises his brows, bulge pressed into my skin, once again.

“I doubt you can, Mattheo” I reply, simply rolling my eyes at him.

Mattheos warm lips press against the skin of my neck, soft kisses trailing toward my breasts. I arch my back off the mattress, grinding against his cock, desperately throbbing for him.

His laugh vibrates against my skin, causing me to squirm. My whines echo throughout the room, back still arching off the mattress. I moan softly, feeling his lips travel down my body, kissing purple bruises into my skin.

He gets closer and closer to my dripping pussy, veiny hands spreading my legs as wide as they can go. I groan, feeling his finger slide across my slide.

“Mhm, you’re so fucking wet- Such a slut for me, huh?” He speaks after what felt like years of silence, making the couple hairs on my body stand up. I nod, feeling a sting against my thigh almost immediately.

“You ought to use your fucking words.” He demands, squeezing my thick, pale thighs. My lip quivers, breath shaky.

“I’m sorry sir- Yes, all for you.” I mumble out, letting my back press back into the mattress. He slips a finger inside me, feeling around my wet pussy. Sounds of my wetness echo throughout his room, a smirk playing on his lips, eyes staring deep into mine.

I melt into the sheets, moaning uncontrollably when he begins pumping in and out of me with two fingers. His long fingers are coated in my slick, smirk never disappearing from his face.

I grind against his fingers, so desperate to feel the tying knot at the bottom of my stomach. The man below me slaps my thigh, warning me to quit being impatient.

I comply, huffing out a apology.

His tongue replaces his fingers, swirling deep inside me. My moans fill the room, his fingernails digging into my thighs, drawing blood that trickles down my leg.

I’ve never noticed how long his tongue is, weirdly enough it being inside me is all that it takes for me to notice that. His laugh vibrates against me, once again, causing me to whine desperately.

“W-Why are you laughing?” I stutter, biting my bottom lip, eyes pointed up at the ceiling. He laughs some more, pulling his tongue out of me. Taps are felt against my thigh, telling me to look at him. I do as told, eyes locking with his.

“My tongues long, aye?” He mocks, thinking as himself as some comedian. I huff at the brunette in between my legs, pushing my thighs closer to his head. Moans fall from his lips, “Keep at your job, brat.” I demand.

He nods in response, diving back into my folds, slipping his tongue inside me, once again. If the pressure isn’t bad enough, he decided to add that; using his thumb to draw circles amongst my swollen clit.

I begin screaming, body moving to get away from his touch. He pushes onto my lower stomach, holding me down. I cry out begs, feeling myself clench around his tongue.

He grinds against the bed, attempting to get some sort of friction.

My body grinds into his mouth. “Please, I- I need to cum!” I whimper, hands gripping onto the sheets below my body.

“Do you forgive me?” He questions, slowing his pace on my clit. I shake my head, being truthful with him. He slaps his hand against my thigh, causing me to wince out in pain and frustration.

“Fuck! Please!?” I beg, hoping he accepts, but he just asks me the same question. Over and over, but I keep telling him no. My orgasm grows closer, body twitching as he sucks on my clit, tongue bow drawing circles on it.

His fingers slide back inside me, a third one being added to the mix. “Do. You. Forgive. Me?” He asks, dominating voice echoing in my brain.

I nod frantically, hands rushing to his curls. My fingers tangle with them as I roughly tug on them, almost ripping them from his head. He moans against my clit, free hand squeezing my skin.

“I forgive you baby boy! Please, please!!” I shout. He nods, smiling a soft smile at me. I groan, coming in his mouth, this load bigger than ever.

HE SITS UP, sitting himself beside me. My eyes fall to the wet patch on his pants, a laugh erupting from my lips. “You came in your pants?” I shout, laughing at him.

His cock throbs against the zipper of his pants, begging to be released. The man falls into the pillows, “Fuck, don’t laugh at me..” He cries, no longer the guy he was just two seconds ago.

I pull his zipper down, tossing his pants across the room. He then slides his boxers off, wincing when the cold air coming from the fan, hits his swollen dick. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll make it up to you.” I mock, gaining a dirty look from him.

I roll my eyes, jumping onto his stand up cock. He moans an unexpected moan, eyes widened at how tight I am around his girth. My body moves on top of his, tits bouncing as I ride him.

Desperate moans from him fill the room, hands rested against my hips, helping me move at a demonic pace. “Mommy, fuck!” He screams, throwing his head back into the comfort of his pillows.

Sweat rolls down his forehead, orgasm building up in his balls. I nod my head, telling him to cum inside my pussy. “Fill me with your cum, Mattheo. Come on, put your babies inside me!” I shout, causing his cock to twitch deep inside me.

The man comes, making me moan breathy moans. My body collapses against his chest, the two of us soon falling asleep, cock still buried deep inside me.

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johnslittlespoon · 2 months

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– i think of you all of the time.

#in which there is no happy ending #the boy never gets the boy #wisconsin is a lonely lonely place #and 45 is too young.#john egan you deserved a better life sweet boy #this is the way the world ends not with a bang but a whimper type beat y'know.#has this been done yet idk but this song's been in my bucky playlist for weeks itching for an edit #one of those nights but we move #sorry bout this one fr #johnslittlespoon edits #buckbucky #buck x bucky #curtbucky

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crunchysocklover · 21 days

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Imagine running your fingers through your long-haired boyfriend's hair. Massaging his head after a hard day as he lets out soft whimpers of pleasure :p

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poetsoflove · 5 months

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I actually hate waking up in the middle of the night.

But standing up next to my baby boy and seeing him still sleeping peacefully, his chest slowly rising and falling and him clinging to my arm, is so much better. Especially since I can just touch his body all the time if I can't go back to sleep.

Running my hands through his hair and then letting my fingertips slide down his cheeks until I reach his lips, putting my fingers in his mouth, smiling when I notice that he doesn't mind and he sighs happily, just for my hands to slide further down. Along his chest, down to his hips and then between his legs.

Slowly starting to stroke him, smiling as i watch my baby boy obliviously getting closer to me, burying his head inside my neck, his breath quicken, his whines getting louder. His hips bucking as I stroke him faster, waking up confused as what i'm doing to him.

"Oh, baby boy, it's alright, relax, yeah. Mommy is just going to have some fun, don’t worry about anything and go back to sleep, I'm gonna take care of you"

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drizztdohurtin · 3 months

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Rolan's First Day As a Father

pairing: Rolan x afab!reader ("she", "her", "wife" used)

[ masterlist ] [ wip list ]

Okay, I wrote this in the "Rolan: fatherhood" headcanons but erm.... it got really long and turned into a blurb, so I'm releasing it separately so that I can add more actual headcanons to the post (I love when my own thoughts make my stomach hurt)

Warnings: this is hella angst, and a little comfort, please buckle in

would recommend reading my 'deciding to start a family, and conceiving' post before continuing

His attention had been only on you, a never-ending string of loving encouragement falling from his lips as you labored to deliver your baby; your strength and persistence only fueling his own, not allowing the anguish he felt from seeing you in so much pain to get the better of him.

The second he hears those first big cries when your baby is finally born, every single cell in his body is flooded with the parental bond he had been so utterly desperate to feel while you were pregnant. He focuses his attention on helping you get a little more comfortable now that the hardest part is over, praising you for how incredible you did as the doctor and cleric checked over you and your baby.

Rolan looks up with wide eyes to see the cleric carefully handing the newborn to you; a weary but thrilled laugh leaving your mouth upon seeing his beautiful red skin and adorable little tail for the first time.

Rolan goes motionless, staring at you cradling your newborn through the tears beginning to trickle into his vision. Time slowed as the overwhelming waves of love crashed into him - every single fear that he had while you were pregnant going out of the window, never to return again. He hadn't even held his baby and yet he already knew that if he had to take an ice knife to the chest every second of every day until his last day to protect him, he would in a heartbeat.

That night while you slept, he'd sit and rock his newborn, eyes full of adoration, tracing over every one of his features as he slept peacefully in his arms - trying to commit the image of his son to memory as if he'd never see him again.

He eventually works up the courage to gently graze the pad of his thumb over the baby's delicate features that mirrored his own: the light red skin, the bright yellow eyes, the black nails, the long pointed ears, and the tiny ridged tail that was barely the length of his own hand - wondering if his horns would be black like his, too.

If anyone had been watching Rolan at that moment, they'd see an expression of deep contentment and affection gracing his features as he traced his son's face - but then they'd see his smile fade, his eyes widen, and his lip begin to quiver as he fights back tears.

They'd watch as Rolan realized: this was the same sight his own parents had seen before they abandoned him.

When Rolan looked down at his baby boy, he saw the most perfect being in the world, the ultimate testament of your love, a blessing from the Gods that he did not believe he deserved.

And tears began to fall from his eyes as he tried to imagine it.

He tried to imagine watching the person he loved most in the world carry his child for months, laboring every day and night to create their son out of nothing.

He tried to imagine watching you go through hours of pain - pain that would bring even the strongest to their knees in surrender - to give birth to their son.

And then he tried to imagine looking down at his child and seeing anything but perfection.

He tried to feel hatred and disgust for the very being that he'd burn cities to the ground to protect

He tried to feel anything but unconditional love for the perfect angel that you had gone through so much pain to create.

And, obviously, he couldn't.

His head started spinning with emotions - the fire of his anger and pain being doused by the tranquility of his love and adoration for the tiny tiefling in his arms. He did his best to wipe his face without disturbing the sleeping boy in his arms, but it didn't work.

The bittersweet cries rang through his ears, momentarily erasing his own troubles, consumed by the singular desire to provide comfort - offering gentle kisses as he drew his son closer to his chest. He allowed himself to soak up the moment, gently leaning his cheek on his son's head as he rocked him back and forth - only realizing once his son's cries diminished that he had been purring.

Rolan had never been fond of that particular part of his lineage - though he had become less self-conscious about it when he had found out how much you loved it years ago. And now, witnessing how his body had instinctively reacted to calm his crying child, he had never been more thankful for it.

He softly pressed his nose and lips to the top of his son's head, giving him more gentle kisses and breathing in the heavenly newborn smell - before pulling away to look at his sweet face once again.

Rolan knew he'd always love him, that there was nothing his child could do that would make him stop loving him - and he promised this to his son in the gentlest whisper he could muster as tiny, bright yellow eyes peered back into his own.

He promised that he'd always keep him safe; that he'd always keep him fed, healthy, and warm.

He promised that he'd always take care of him and heal him when he was hurt.

He promised that he'd never leave him, that he'd never know the pain he felt growing up.

And Rolan took great solace in knowing his son would never feel the pain and abandonment that he felt as a child - in knowing that he would do everything for his son that his parents didn't do for him.

#Y'all ever seen that family guy clip where peter stands up with a broken neck and he's whimpering “ow. ow.. ow”#that was me writing this last night #80% of my dad!rolan thoughts are angsty - but I'm posting this outside of the hcs post so that I can try to include more fluffy stuff #PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU LIKE THIS #my writing #my hcs #baby boy #bg3 #rolan #x reader #angst #comfort #blurb #baldurs gate 3 #imagine #scenario #papa rolan #rolan posting

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