#and he’s not even trying to dirty talk it just all comes out of him bc he can’t be quiet

[gutsby]

Stutter

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Your daughter says her first word.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v (interrupted & brief!). Sibling bickering. Throwing of one (1) sneaker at Uncle Tommy’s head. Mention of thigh riding. Feral!Reader. Pregnant!Reader. Dutiful-and-Viagra-Popping-Peepaw keeps you satisfied through every trimester, always 🫡 You and Old!Joel are having Irish Twins because I said so.

Note: Y’all all know it, but Jolene is a song by Dolly Parton 🤠

Word count: 2.4k

“AAH!”

This was the closest your baby had ever come to talking. It was almost half of a coherent word, though not quite.

Joel was convinced she was trying to say ‘Dada.’

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be persuaded to believe that this noise was anything more than just happy baby babble. She’d been saying much of the same for the last ten months, and not once had her sweet and toothless ramblings ever amounted to a sound that was intelligible.

This was fine by you. Your child was already growing way too fast for your liking, and with each and every day she got bigger or learned something new, you couldn’t help but see it all through a bittersweet lens. You wished that she could stay this tiny forever, but at the same time, you adored watching her blossom into her own little person.

That was partly because she got to be more like Joel everyday. In looks, mannerisms, even how she smiled.

“The two of you are gonna have matching grins soon enough,” Tommy had said to your daughter one morning, chuckling. “You’ll be growing teeth, Joel’ll be losing his.”

From where your old man was stirring formula in the kitchen, he shot Tommy a dirty look. He grumbled.

“Jackass.”

Joel scowled, and your baby clapped—whether from amusement or a desire to be fed, you couldn’t be sure.

If you’d had the energy to do it, you would’ve intervened. But as it was, you were eight months pregnant with your second child, and preventing bickering between brothers wasn’t high on your list of priorities. It was more, like, getting foot rubs from your husband and trying to help your daughter take her first steps, maybe say a word.

No one was more committed to the latter than Joel, though. Even as he fed her, he was trying to teach.

“Who’s givin’ you baba, baby? Is it Dada?” he cooed, hovering the bottle over your daughter’s upturned face.

Hankering for milk and not particularly giving a shit who was handing it over, the infant let out a frustrated cry.

“AAH!”

“Very close, sweetie. It’s ‘Dada’,” Joel corrected gently.

“Give her the Da-damn bottle, man,” Tommy groaned.

“Language,” you chided your brother-in-law. Then, pushing to sit up: “Give her the dang bottle, Joel.”

Your daughter was rewarded with her milk in less than a second. Joel let out a deflated kind of sigh but smiled at his little girl, who kicked her pudgy legs in her high chair like this was the single greatest day she’d lived to see. She drank her milk, Joel watched on, and Tommy had to stifle a snicker. His big brother shot him another glare.

“Relax, Dada.”

“Jackass.”

“Boys.”

Baby babble listening never really stopped, no matter the time of day. No matter what you were doing, whether that was cooking, cleaning, baking a tray full of cookies, taking a walk, or else fucking sideways in your bed, Joel always remained vigilant. This morning was no exception

Joel was just working you up to your climax, spooning you from behind and thrusting rhythmically while you moaned and whimpered into your pillow. You were so close. Your eyes were about to shut in the throes of ecstasy, bliss reaching you at any minute now, when a sound startled you both. It was loud and obnoxious.

A whooping cheer.

“Hell yeah, baby!!”

Of course, that was Tommy’s voice. Who else would it be? Your brother-in-law was almost always over at your place these days, mostly to hang out with your baby and bug his older brother, and you and Joel normally didn’t mind because it meant that you two could have a little alone time before your family grew to four in a few weeks

Today, it meant you wouldn’t get to orgasm.

Joel jumped out of bed and threw on his pants.

You went after him almost as fast—albeit waddling, wincing slightly at the loss of contact between your legs—and you trailed behind him to the living room, having just slipped on a robe to see Tommy and your daughter.

Presently, your child’s uncle was clapping like a maniac.

“She finally did it!” he sing-songed to you and Joel.

“Did she—shit, did she talk?! What’d she say?”

That was Joel, drawing closer faster than you could blink. He was approaching the two of them with wide eyes, expecting news that your baby had finally talked.

While he did that, Tommy pointed.

On the floor, your infant daughter was holding an empty bottle of beer. She peered curiously at Joel, then at you.

“Baby grabbed her first beer! She’s officially a Miller.” Then a shit-eating grin spread wide over Tommy’s features, and he beamed at his brother. Like this was a momentous occasion and something to celebrate.

“AAH!” your baby shrieked, unsure what else to say.

Then she clapped, bottle still grasped in her tiny hand.

Joel narrowly refrained from smacking Tommy upside the head, though you could tell that it was taking effort.

Instead, he did what he always did, and he glared. Hard.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me, Tomm—” he started.

“Joel. Language,” you half-sighed, half-groaned.

Tommy snickered, and you shot him a look, too.

“Don’t start,” you warned. “I’m not in the mood.”

As you and Joel turned to leave the room, you heard a soft, barely audible laugh. You cast a glance Tommy’s direction, and sure enough, that fucker was smirking.

“Sure sounded like y’all were in the mood before…”

Referring to you and Joel banging, obviously.

At that, as he walked, Joel grabbed the nearest shoe off the floor and chucked it at his little brother’s head. Tommy ducked easily, and it missed by a lot.

“Nice hands, feet!” Tommy called jokingly.

“Jackass,” Joel griped back.

“Language, please.”

You were fewer than two weeks from giving birth.

Whenever you stood, it felt like your knees were about to give out, so you regularly stayed on the sofa. Vegetating. Playing with your baby. Occasionally receiving foot massages from your doting, near panic-stricken Joel.

You suspected if the two of you were to have any more kids after this, he would always be nervous about labor.

He milled frantically about the house, checking the fridge and the cabinets and your hospital bag to make sure that you and your daughter would be well taken care of when the delivery took place—as if your water was about to break at any second, and Tommy and Maria weren’t a stone’s throw away to take care of your child.

“We’re gonna be fine, Joel. Sit down,” you pleaded.

From across the way, in the kitchen, you could see the father of your children comb a hand through his almost completely gray locks, and he exhaled a ragged breath.

If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought he might’ve been the one in his third trimester, pacing around like his backside was on fire or someone just threw on some Nickelback or Creed and he couldn’t make it out to the dance floor on time to sing along.

Typical dad.

You loved him for that.

You also couldn’t stand to see your old man worry, so with a wide-arcing arm, you beckoned him to the sofa.

“Baaaby, my feet hurt,” you pouted, pain exaggerated.

Joel was by your side in no time. He sped so fast he probably almost displaced his hip making his way over, and you had to bite back a little smile. You lifted your arms as if to say, ‘Come here, please, I missed you.’

You’d be making that sweet, peri-geriatric man a daddy at least ten more times if he kept looking at you, and looking after you, like this. He crouched beside the couch, and both of his knees audibly popped in turn.

Your daughter had just started to doze off in her playard.

Thankfully.

You smiled.

It had taken you hours to get her to nap in the afternoon yesterday, and now you had the perfect little window, as well as a golden opportunity to make the most out of it. With your due date so close on the horizon and your hormones going wild at all hours of the day, you wanted Joel at random times. Inconvenient moments. You got one whiff of his Old Spice or the Icy Hot he regularly applied to his old, achy muscles, and you felt feral.

You felt that now, tugging him onto the couch.

In no time at all, thanks to your big, round belly, you had to be the one straddling him. You wasted no time climbing on, gaze raking hungrily all over Joel.

“Aw, sweetheart…” your old man murmured.

You couldn’t quite tell whether it was from appreciation, arousal, or complete exhaustion. He had popped three blue pills this week alone to keep up with your raging libido, and for that, you were indescribably grateful. You wouldn’t ask him to do anymore work this afternoon.

“I’ll—I’ll just ride your thigh,” you stammered, already lifting the hem of your nightdress as you scooted back.

Joel blinked haltingly.

“No, no, I can—” Then his voice broke off in a groan when you pressed yourself onto his leg. Squeezed your thighs tight around one muscular, cotton-clad quad and caused his cock to stir in his pants. He swallowed and looked up. “—I can get hard an’ fuck you real nice. Just gimme five.”

More like ten or twenty, depending on how well he fared without his Jackson-brand of Viagra waiting on standby.

You smiled and shook your head. Started rubbing yourself gently over his leg, knowing how quickly you were likely to climax right now. It wouldn’t take much.

You were so aroused you almost couldn’t breathe, and your baby was sleeping peacefully across the living room. Now was the perfect time to make this happen, and Joel wouldn’t have to lift a finger. You let out a sigh.

Running a soft, delicate touch down the front of Joel’s shirt, you felt a wave of desire wash over you. Whether it was aided by the fact that you were very nearly nine months pregnant by now or simply infatuated with this man, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t care. You started rolling your hips gently, and Joel’s hands moved up your sides.

He liked to feel you. He loved to see you all swollen and glowing on account of how he’d knocked you up with his baby. Joel still couldn’t believe this some days, and he knew he would do anything to keep giving you more.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that, and you’ll be changing diapers for the rest of your days, old man,” you teased.

He didn’t seem to give a shit.

In fact, as you moved your lower half over his leg and started grinding lightly, it was like you could see him picturing the nursery, one crib after the next until you had enough kids to create their very own baseball team.

You were fine with that. You grinded even harder.

And, thanks to the state of your hormones and your never-ending need for the man underneath you, you knew a climax wasn’t far. You let your jaw go slack, and you rode Joel’s thigh without another thought in your mind other than finishing, and giving him a dozen babies

“I’m so close, Joel,” you whimpered. “So, oh…”

“That’s it, sweet pea. Ride daddy’s thigh.”

He coaxed and cajoled you to no end. Rubbed his broad, callused palms over your hips and helped you bounce on him lightly, ignoring the fact that you were both still fully clothed. You were close. Joel was in awe, so wholly in love that he could hardly keep drawing breath without thinking to himself how lucky he was. How perfect it was.

How badly he wanted to fill you up as soon as he—

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeeeeeeeene!”

Fucking shit.

Like an EF5 tornado—destructive and completely unwanted—Tommy Miller shot through the front door.

He was so lost in singing the old country tune that he didn’t even notice you and Joel at first. He just strolled in, taking his sweet time and belting as loud as he could; as he did, you scrambled off Joel’s lap. You cursed under your breath when the next noise that rang out was a wail.

A shriek.

You immediately knew it was your daughter, and could only surmise that it would turn into crying, so you stood.

On two wobbling legs with one ridiculously heavy belly, you pushed to your feet and started after your daughter.

At the same time, Joel was making moves himself—standing and barking at his brother, nostrils flared.

“Ever heard of knocking, Tommy?!”

“Shit, Joel, I’m so—”

“AAH!”

You approached your baby’s playard, where she was currently standing with her round, sweet face perched over the bars of her little bed, and you lowered your voice

“C’mere, sweet girl,” you cooed gently.

And really, you meant to pick her up. It was just that your bump was so big, and the rest of you was still so lightheaded from standing so fast, and you had to take a beat. Meanwhile, Joel was busy chewing Tommy out.

“—she could give birth at any damn minute, y’know—”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again, I swear.”

You were about to chime in yourself, tiredly say it was fine, just be more careful next time, when a new, loud sound caught you off guard. This time, it wasn’t Tommy.

You cocked your head to the side, as did Joel and his brother. The noise shot off again, exactly like before.

Your less-than a year-old baby was clapping her hands together gleefully. But that wasn’t what shocked you.

What snagged the attention of all the rest of you then was the sound that accompanied it—high-pitched. Shrill.

“Jacka!” your daughter giggled, stomping her little feet.

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t speak.

Clearly, your baby had no such issues herself.

She gripped the top of her crib and shook the bars, staring directly at her Uncle Tommy and smiling big.

“Jackass!”

Tommy coughed. Joel choked.

For a second, you thought you might go into labor.

Your baby, entirely oblivious to everyone else’s reactions, just stood there and laughed. Uncle Jackass Tommy was here, and that meant she got to play—and maybe crack open a cold one afterward if she played her cards right.

There wasn’t a chance Joel could’ve ever predicted that that would be her first word, so he stood there, stunned.

And when his sweet, tiny, beaming bundle of joy turned a gummy grin to him, he had no choice but to smile back

When she laughed again, Joel laughed with her.

Then you joined, and Tommy followed, fast.

Alright.

‘Jackass’ works.

[leyavo]

Dad!141 & how they use their military experience on the kids.

John uses the year’s worth of being captain to his advantage. He’s the one to resolve silly fighting between his three girls, even it’s about wearing the other one’s top (he’s got years worth of the 141’s squabbling under his belt). He never raises his hand or voice, but he’ll sit his girls down and let them talk in turns. And when it’s been sorted out they each kiss his cheek and leave the table. The girls calling it the Captain’s court when they’re in their teen years. When he’s away he’s asking you the latest gossip about the girls.

He demands respect, but also knows that it’s earnt not given. Taking time to know each daughter, help them and encourage them to speak up when they don’t agree. Wants his girls to question everything and not be unprepared for men in the real world. He knows how horrible they can be.

Simon doesn’t realise how neat he is until he has kids and the only way he can get them to clean their room is to inspect them like he would the barracks. His daughter and son stood by their beds, sheets tucked under the mattress just like daddy taught them. He bites back the smile as his son kicks some dirty socks under the bed. “You forget to tuck teddy in?” He raises his brow at his daughter who’s still clutching the brown bear behind her back as if she tidied just as his footsteps were heard coming up the stairs.

He normally does it on the weekend, Saturday morning whilst they’re both in their pyjamas. The one day you get to lay in, whilst he checks the room and goes on a walk with the kids and dog. Doesn’t matter if it’s rain or shine they do it every Saturday. “Everything has a place Dad’.” His eldest son will say as they look for the lead, only to find out Rocky the German shepherd already has it in his mouth.

Kyle uses his military training to tire the kids out before bed. He’s even created a little set of exercises to get them moving, but it’s backfired because now they’ve made him do it alongside them (this also allows you free time to have a bath). Which also tires him out and sometimes he falls asleep before they do. Little fingers poking his cheek as they whisper goodnight daddy in his ear, followed by a wet kiss on his cheek or forehead. He chases them up the stairs, shouting orders whilst they giggle trying not to get caught. Then he tucks them in joking about how they can’t get up till 0600 hours. They get him up at five some days.

Gets in trouble with his mum, granny Garrick when they make her do the exercises before bed when they stay the night at hers. So he ends up making up an easier set just for granny’s. Also has a training schedule for the summer holidays which is more tailored for fun activities to do with him. Building an assault course for water gun wars is one of them.

Johnny has a gaggle of kids four, you yelling at them not to forget their homework or their packed lunch. It’s loud in the mornings and Johnny ends up treating it like preparing for a mission. Has a bell he rings to wake them up on school days, the youngest staying in bed till it’s her turn to brush her teeth.

Now the night before the kids pack their bags, hang them on their designated hook on the wall with their coats. There’s a bathroom schedule and an assembly line waiting for breakfast to be put on their plates. You smiling at him as he managed to give you an easier time. He also counts theirs heads before he gets in to the car for the school run. Sometimes miscounts on purpose to tease them. Calling their names in their seats along sure their all. “Eh, we’re all ere captain.” His kids are menaces they call him Captain Scotland, they ask him when his shield’s getting delivered. “Not that type of Captain.” “Nah Da’ used to blow stuff up!”

[Masterlist]

I’m dyslexic so there might be mistakes/errors. I do try to edit multiple time but still miss stuff - Leya 🫡

[paulyenvol6]

Made To Take It

Jackson!Joel x Jackson!Tommy x female reader

Okay so I'm definitely going to hell for this one. This is dirty, filthy, raunchy and SO thirsty, but I'm a slut for Joel and Tommy, I'm sorry. Enjoy these 13,000 words of (almost) pure smut and meet me in hell.

Contains: Oh lord, where do I begin... smut, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving and it's rough and messy af), fingering, degradation, humiliation, objectification, gagging, choking, boot riding, slapping, fat age gap (Joel and Tommy are in their 50s, reader is 24), sort of innocent kink, dacryphilia, mentions of somnophilia, dom Joel and Tommy (obviously), subby/whiny reader, everyone involved is a little drunk, dubcon (gonna put this here just in case because at some point reader is in pain and doesn't give clear consent), flirting, mentions of alcohol and cocain, use of words like bitch/slut/whore, descriptions of pain and discomfort, they're cumming over reader's breasts and face

Wordcount: 13,115

Masterlist

Joel hated it.

He didn't exactly hate you, but he hated what you were doing. The words coming out of your mouth, your smiles and your sparkling eyes.

When he thought about it, maybe it was more about the things you made him feel than what you said, but it was much easier to blame you.

You didn't have to wear that tiny excuse of a skirt or that tight pink top that showed off every curve of your body in a way that made him want to bang his head against the table in front of him just to make those sinful images disappear from his mind.

He felt awful for even just thinking about you that way, a girl almost 30 years younger than him. But what made him feel even worse was when his eyes stayed on you for just a little too long. Long enough to glance at your beautiful legs and your waist and imagine what you would feel like.

Joel inhaled the air which was definitely too thin in here and searched for a window or a door to open. Just when he was about to turn to his left someone sat down in a chair to his right and he spinned around only to look into a pair of brown eyes that looked very much like his own.

"Tommy. Didn't know you were comin'."

Joel tightened his grip around his glass and then emptied it in one go. If he already felt miserable dreaming about you like that, he better be drunk at least.

"Didn't know you were comin' either. You alright? You look awful."

"Thanks."

Joel darted at him, the corner of his mouth lifting as he noticed the hazy veil in front of his brother's eyes that hinted at the fact that he wasn't entirely himself either. Tommy exhaled and then leaned back in his chair, his eyes staring into space, but then Joel felt an arm around his shoulders.

"Seriously, though, why the fuck you here? You hate this kinda stuff."

"Thank you for tellin' me what I like."

Joel pushed his hand away and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table.

"You pissed?"

"No," he growled, rubbing over his forehead with his hands that were cold from the icy liquid in his glas and hoped that it would calm his racing mind.

"Alright."

Tommy was quiet for the next few minutes which was why Joel eventually decided that from you, himself and Tommy, the latter was the least to blame so he gave him a conciliatory grin and toasted with him. That was communication enough and the two brothers silently watched the scene before their eyes until Tommy quietly chuckled.

"She's puttin' on quite the show, isn't she?"

Joel's heart jumped, his head throbbing as he tried to figure out who he was talking about and when he followed his little brother's gaze he almost choked on his own spit.

"Yeah, I guess," Joel nevertheless replied, trying to play it cool.

"She's an adorable 'lil thing though. I get why all these boys are head over heels for her. If I'd known her back when I was her age, god… the things I would've done just to get to touch those pretty legs for once."

"Jesus, Tommy," Joel hissed, rolling his eyes at his brother's light chuckle.

Nice one, Tommy. Not that he had needed it, but now he felt even worse.

"Fuckin' relax, Joel. Don't act like you would've been any different. Actually, she's more your type than mine. She looks a bit like… that one girl from music class in highschool, god what was her name again…"

"Georgia."

Tommy laughed out, slapped his thigh and then shook his head.

"Yes, Georgia. I remember her… That summer, I swear you were so goddamn useless. In your fuckin' room all day to practice the guitar to impress 'er… God… I would really like to know what happened to 'er."

Joel averted his gaze, looking down at his hands, which were resting on the table, and flinched when Tommy punched him lightly in the back.

"Anyway, the point is she's cute. But I swear to god, she's trouble. Just look at her. She's gonna break one heart after the other…"

Joel craned his neck back to look at the now familiar scene and felt his heart pound as he saw you whirling around, your hand gripped tightly by some guy's claws, as if he was afraid you would slip away if he let go. His fears were not unfounded because with a glance at the people around you it was clear that a number of guys seemed to be waiting for you to be free for a minute so that they could claim you next.

Goddamn stupid… Joel shook his head and dropped his gaze, but Tommy seemed invested now, an occasional chuckle leaving his mouth and his hand poking Joel's side when something of interest happened.

"Look, Joel. That one's out now." He giggled. "And look at his face… I hope he doesn't start a fight with that guy."

"Jesus… Can we stop now?" Joel grunted and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Tommy on the other hand shrugged, but finally averted his gaze from you and your little crowd of admirers.

"Alright. Don't know what the fuck's wrong with you tonight, but okay."

"I just think we have better things to do than stare at her an' get involved in this fuckin' teenage drama."

Tommy frowned, took another sip of his whisky and then lightly thumped Joel's shoulder with his fist.

"You makin' me sound like a creep."

"Yeah. Goddamn right," his older brother scoffed, but with these words the topic was finally dropped.

The brothers started talking about work and soon ended up talking about the patrol they were due to go on the next day. Time passed and Joel finally felt the lump in his throat resolve, the tension in his body easing and his mind capable of thinking about something that didn't have to do with you.

But the redemption was short-lived. It was around 11pm when a shadow approached the two brothers who were deep in a conversation, which was why they only noticed you when you were right in front of them.

"Jesus fucking christ," Joel cursed, bringing his hand to his chest to calm his rapid heartbeat that had gone through the rooftop by your unnoticed appearance. Tommy giggled again, his breath thick with the scent of whiskey.

"Good evening, gentlemen," you said with a smile and propped yourself up on your hands on the table which caused your t-shirt to ride up slightly. Joel felt his breath catch in his throat and he had to force himself not to look at the thin strip of skin exposed by your careless action.

"Hello, gorgeous," Tommy grinned and his brother involuntarily rolled his eyes. It wasn't just that Tommy was naturally a much bigger flirt than he was, it got even worse when he was drunk.

"What you're doin' here all alone? Did your admirers leave you? Not such gentlemen, huh? Leavin' a pretty thing like you here so late."

You tilted your head, swung your weight from one foot to the other, and somehow it only made Joel more nervous.

"No. They'll be back. They're… gettin' some other drugs," you whispered with a blink of your eye and brought a finger to your lips, signalising the Miller brothers to keep it a secret.

"What?" it was Joel now who hissed.

"Relax. It's just a bit of coke, I guess. Nothing I can't handle."

Joel glanced at Tommy, who had a frown on his face, although he looked more like he was enjoying the game.

"You shouldn't take some drugs you can't identify and don't have any experience with," Joel insisted, shaking his head and straightening up in his chair like he was preparing himself to jump to his feet and personally prevent you from just going near those drugs.

"Yeah. That's why I'm gonna try it. So I gain experience with it."

The smile on your face had faded, and Joel definitely preferred the sweet glint in your eyes to the crease between your brows, but there was no way around it now.

"No, that ain't my point. You don't know these guys, you don't know what they have in mind and so you definitely shouldn't take anythin' they offer you."

"You don't know if I know them," you claimed, defiantly raising your chin, but Joel knew that he had hit a nerve. God… he could read you like a fucking book.

"Don't lie to me. You don't know 'em well enough to trust 'em like that. Tommy, you wanna back me here or what?" he asked, elbowing Tommy's arm. The addressed cleared his throat, looking as if he'd just woken up from a daydream.

"Oh yeah. I agree with Joel, you gotta be more careful, kiddo."

The pout on your lips intensified as you flashed your eyes at them, but Joel remained uncompromising.

"S'better for you that way," he whispered, his voice softer now.

"I don't even know why the fuck I'm listenin' to you," you growled as you pulled up a chair and sat down.

Joel's heart fluttered, his insides clenching with a strange combination that felt like a mixture of fear and excitement and his hands becoming sweaty.

"'Cause you're a good kid," Tommy chuckled and reached for a glass to his right.

"Are you allowed to drink that?" he asked, hesitating only when he already held the bottle in his hand.

"I'm 24," you rolled your eyes which earned you an approving nod from Tommy.

"Behavin' like an 18 year old sometimes though," he then grumbled as he forcefully put the glass on the table in front of you.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked and defensively raised your hands.

"Means you're stubborn and don't listen," Joel joined the conversation, his teeth gritting when you narrowed your eyes.

"Yeah, as if you're not stubborn, Mr I-know-everything-better-and-refuse-to-change-my-mind-even-though-I-know-that-you're-right."

Joel exhaled, but felt the blood in his veins throb at your sweet laugh. That sweet laugh he sometimes heard at town meetings, when you giggled with your best friend, or when he passed you in the street, your arm intertwined with that of a friend or sister. But he hated the sound of it when you were talking with boys, immature foolish boys who certainly didn't know how to handle you, let alone deserved to hear your sweet angelic laugh.

But now you were laughing because of him or better about him and he liked that a lot better.

"I can admit when I'm wrong," Joel said, shrugging his shoulders and then frowning as Tommy to his right slapped him on the back.

"Oh no you can't, big brother. She got a point."

Tommy and you shared a smirk and although it felt like a kick in the stomach, he was just glad you were enjoying yourself after he and Tommy had robbed you of your night with your friends and their various drugs.

"Where did you leave your 'lil friend, by the way?" Tommy wanted to know, turning the whiskey glass in his grip as he watched you over the edge of it.

"You mean Nicole? She's sick. At home."

"Oh yeah? So you had no choice but to hang out with those little boys of yours."

You rolled your eyes, you lips forming a pout, but you looked amused rather than offended.

"I like hangin' out with them. They're funny."

"No, they're not. They give you attention. That's what you like 'bout 'em," Tommy corrected, a crooked smirk on his lips that made Joel slightly shake his head. Was his brother seriously flirting with you?

"That's not true," you said with a frown, spinning your own glass in your hand, but then putting it back on the table to rest your chin on your hand, and Joel felt his throat dry up at the adorable image. Your head was now tilted as your eyes darted between the two brothers, making Joel grit his teeth, afraid to give away how much your little gestures were affecting him.

"It's fine. A girl like you surely gets a lotta attention. S'okay to enjoy it. Everyone likes attention. Especially if it's positive."

You shrugged and dropped your eyes, glancing at Joel and Tommy's hands around their glasses, then up at them from under your lashes. Joel almost had to surpress a growl, his pants painfully tightening around his dick at your wonderful doll eyes.

Jesus Christ.

He had to control himself, but along with the effects of the alcohol in his blood he felt overloaded with feelings. You were so fucking gorgeous and the way you moved and occasionally bit your lip, the sweet pout on your mouth and now this submissive look… You were progressively killing him and Joel didn't know how much further you could go before he would have to leave. For his own good.

"Maybe I like it. I just don't like it when they try to impress me. They're so fucking predictable sometimes. But sometimes I play along 'cause it's funny."

"Oh sweetheart. You know it's not nice to play with those boy's hearts. Gonna break a lot of them if you go on like that," Tommy said, his voice more quiet and dangerous now and Joel squeezed his eyes shut trying to process what his brother was doing right now. He couldn't seriously flirt with you.

"Maybe I like that too," you whispered and brought a thumb to your lips to nibble at it. "Maybe I like the thrill."

Tommy folded his hands on the table in front of him and then leaned in until his mouth was close to your ear.

"Yeah, but maybe you'd like to be the one to be played with for once in your life… These boys seriously know how to handle you? Do they know what ya need?"

Joel closed his eyes, sighing deeply and bringing a hand to his temple to massage his pulse point.

"Tommy," he said, pulling his brother back by his arm, but he just gave him a stern look and then returned his gaze to you.

"I know you're a wild one," Tommy smirked and it only intensified when a mischievous smile appeared on your face, your eyes provokingly sparkling.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about…"

You crazy little thing actually seemed to enjoy this. Joel couldn't believe it. Of course he knew that you were a tease, he only had to open his eyes at the town meetings and count the number of different boys he had seen you holding hands with over the past months to know that you most certainly weren't shy with people of the opposite gender, but the fact that you seriously jumped at his brother's attempts to flirt with you? Joel was fucked.

"I think you do know what I'm talkin' about. 'Cause I think you need more than some teenage boy who's buyin' you flowers 'n' shit and think they can win your heart with it, huh?"

Suddenly Joel sensed a change in your expression, your eyes rounding and your smile fading, and as he turned to his brother he realised that Tommy must have put his hand on your thigh under the table.

Fuck. This was… Joel didn't even know what this was. And then the fact that you were wearing this dangerously short skirt which meant that Tommy had placed his hand right on your naked leg.

"You're a pretty thing," his brother continued like he was the most confident man in the world and Joel wasn't sure if it was the whiskey talking or if he seriously believed that he had a shot with you. Not just the fact that you were thirty years younger, but you had a line of worshippers only waiting for you to give them the faintest hint of a smile. Why would you want to let someone like Tommy touch you?

"Yeah?" you whispered, shifting in your seat and then sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. "You like what you're seein'?"

Neither of them paid attention to Joel right now and he didn't know if he was supposed to feel grateful or neglected.

"I do. Yeah. An' I like what I'm feelin'."

You giggled and moved closer to the edge of your chair, giving Tommy more access and then your teeth sank down on your lower lip when he reached the inside of your thigh.

"Jesus… you really are touch-starved. Your pretty boys give you attention but not enough attention to feed your desires, huh?"

You swallowed hard and then gave Tommy those pretty doll eyes again and Joel couldn't help but wish it was him instead.

"No, they don't. They just kiss me 'n' fuck me 'n' cum inside of me and then leave."

Joel's mind went blank.

You seriously hadn't just… He clenched his hands in fists, focusing on his breathing so you wouldn't hear his loud panting.

Tommy seemed surprised by the obscenity of your words as well, but was quicker to collect himself.

"Ohh you poor girl. So they don't know how to touch a pretty girl like you?"

"No they don't."

Suddenly Joel's little brother leaned back in his chair, slightly spread his legs and took the whiskey glass in his hand again.

"Think you should come with us then. Think you should let us show you how a sweet thing like you should be treated."

Us. Joel's heart skipped a beat or maybe even two as the word echoed in his head. It wasn't like Tommy and he had never done fucked-up things like that. At the height of their freaky past, they had fucked three or four girls they had picked up in a bar in a dirty hotel room only to sneak out at dawn, but Joel had believed this to be long in the past. Or perhaps he had misheard his brother. But then as you turned your gaze to him, he knew that he hadn't. He gulped at your beautiful innocent eyes that looked like you only now remembered that he was part of this conversation too.

"Is he in too?" you whispered and once again rested your chin on the palm of your hand, looking a lot more innocent and shy than you were. Tommy smirked at his brother's profile, putting a hand on his shoulder and slighty rocking his body.

"Hell yeah, he is. Right, Joel?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, was the mantra in his head although part of him figured that this was going wonderfully. All this time he had been pining for you, his eyes lingering on you far too long and your face involuntarily appearing before his eyes when he masturbated… and now you wanted to know whether he would join you and his brother? Or what if the opposite was true and you would refuse if Joel were to be part of it?

He hesitated, his eyes small but determined as he trailed his gaze down your flushed cheeks and he wished he knew what was going on behind that pretty head of yours.

"Would you like that?" he asked because he didn't know what else to say, but instantly regretted his choice of words. It didn't sound playful or flirty at all, especially out of his mouth. Tommy had always been better at this, he was more charming, more confident in what he was doing –

"I think I'd like that," you whispered and looked… Shy?

Joel's heartrate picked up, his throat so dry that he craved a glass of cool water, which might also serve to calm his overheated body, and he suspiciously observed your pretty face, now drawn with a mixture of curiousity and timidity.

"Then why don't you come with us, pretty girl?"

Joel would have liked to bang his own or maybe even Tommy's head on the wooden table because how could he be so straightforward, so direct. Where the hell did he take his confidence from? But before Joel could ask himself any more questions, you had suddenly risen from your chair, Tommy's and his eyes following you as you threw your hair back and adjusted your shirt.

"Alright. But you better not disappoint me."

The Miller brothers stood up as well and Tommy was quick to wrap an arm around your waist, gently yet firmly pulling you to the door of the church that was serving as the party location. Joel followed like a puppy, gritting his teeth and using his elbows to separate the crowd.

Outside, the cold wind hit him so intensely that it knocked the air out of his lungs and he needed a moment to get a hold on himself. The silence was a stark contrast to the noisy party, and the smell of alcohol, sweat and smoke that he had become so used to over the past hour was gone, too, replaced by the clean smell of wet grass and damp earth. Joel rubbed his hands together to warm them up and then lifted his head just as Tommy whispered something in your ear.

There was a sharp sting in his belly. Not one caused by jealousy, he believed. It was rather… a feeling of longing.

"C'mon, brother. Ain't got all night!"

"Yeah, I'm comin'," Joel shouted and then followed the two of you with fast steps. Big, doe eyes stared up at him as soon as he was close enough, and Joel felt his mind racing with excitement and nervousness.

"C'mon, now. It's fuckin' cold out here," Tommy complained and turned up his collar, but your eyes were still on Joel.

Why were your eyes still on him?

"Can I kiss you?"

The words didn't reach him at first, but when they did, they hit him like a mighty wave, and he felt as if he had just been knocked to the ground. He swallowed to fight the dryness in his throat, but then felt his fingertips tingle.

"Yeah?" Joel whispered, smirking to hide his heavy breathing. "You want that?"

You nodded and came a little closer and without glancing at Tommy, Joel leaned in to press his lips on yours. You tasted of whiskey and something sweet, but perhaps that was just the way you always tasted. The kiss was a little shy and curious, but it had something daring about it, Joel thought when you pushed yourself closer, your lips opening to give him access to more. He had brought his palms to your face, gently holding you in place while your tiny hands tugged at the hem of his jacket. When a quiet moan left your throat, Joel thought that he might lose it and ended the kiss just in case he would go too far, especially considering the fact that you were still in the middle of the street.

"I'm not watching for a second and the two of you really can't fuckin' hold back, right?" Tommy chuckled, but didn't look offended when Joel slid his arm around your waist and pulled you with him to head to his brother who was a few feet ahead.

The kiss had not only increased his desire, the warmth in his stomach now spreading throughout his body, it had also taken away some of his doubts. Maybe you actually wanted him; why would you have asked him to kiss you if you didn't?

Thoughts swirled and raced in his head as they took you to Tommy's, and Joel didn't listen to his brother's flirtatious attempts and your answers. He was just glad when the three of you finally walked through the door, his jeans tight and uncomfortable around his center and the burning desire to feel you having increased enormously since you had kissed him.

"Make yourself at home, darlin'!" Tommy said with a welcoming gesture to present you his living room.

You took a few exploratory steps towards the couch in the middle of the room, a pair of curious eyes following the paintings on the walls and the bookshelves until your gaze landed back on Joel.

"It's nice," you said, but something about the way you had said it made him think that you weren't talking about Tommy's home.

"Glad you like it. Bedroom is over there."

"Jesus fuckin' christ, Tommy…," Joel interrupted him and ran a hand through his hair.

"You really have no fuckin' manners. You wanna drink somethin'? Or you're hungry?" Joel wanted to know with a glimpse at you who giggled and looked boldly from one brother to the other.

"No, but thanks. I… I think I'd like to see the bedroom."

Joel gulped and had to stifle a sigh because, if he wasn't mistaken, he'd seen you blush. You had said the most obscene things in the middle of the party in front of everyone you knew and now you were blushing because you wanted to see the bedroom?

"Sure thing, hon. Just follow me."

Tommy determindely headed to the door and Joel found himself behind you, putting a hand to your waist with a pounding heart and then smirking when you peeked behind your shoulders and leaned in to his touch.

"Don't let 'im intimidate ya, sweetheart. He can be crazy. Especially when he drinks a lot."

You lowly chuckled and nodded, but then bit your lip.

"Don't worry 'bout me. I think I can handle it."

"Oh I think so too. You made it this far…" Joel squeezed your flesh and then turned his attention to Tommy who was standing by the bed, his eyes shamelessly wandering from your ankles up your naked legs to where your shirt tightly hugged your breasts and then to your face.

"You wanna get on the bed?" Tommy asked and placed his hands on his hips, his lips curling into a smug smile when the blood rushed to your cheeks again. "Don't ya get all shy on us now, angel. C'mon."

Joel and Tommy's eyes were burning holes in your back while you climbed onto the bed and sat down in the middle, your legs slightly parted and your eyes wide, eager and curious as to what was going to happen now.

"Good girl," Tommy growled, sat down on the edge and reached to his shoes to unlace them.

"Don't take your clothes off. Gonna let us unwrap you like a sweet 'lil gift," he then whispered and kicked his shoes off. "Joel, get the fuck over here. Need someone to take care of 'er while I undress. I know she's the kinda girl you can't leave alone for a second, huh?"

Joel made what sounded like a mixture of growling and laughing, but obeyed to his brother's demand, sitting down on the other side of the bed and connecting a hand with your cheek to cradle your head.

"Hey there," he whispered and bit the inside of his cheek when you closed your eyes. "Nuh uh… Eyes on me. At all times, alright?"

Your eyes snapped open again, and you gave a quick nod.

Jesus. You listened so well, seemed so eager to do as you were told and it looked like you were just waiting for him or Tommy to throw you around. Joel inhaled the tense air in the room and then removed his hands from your face only to grab the hem of your tight pink shirt.

"Gonna take this off now, okay? You good with that?"

A nod of your head told him to continue and he carefully pulled the fabric up your torso and then over your head, only to then toss it behind him without even watching where it landed. He was too distracted anyway. You didn't wear a bra and the sight of your bare breasts and stomach was almost unbearable.

"Goddamnit, you're beautiful," Joel mumbled and didn't even see your sweet smile as you followed his eyes traveling down your body.

"Look at that, Tommy," Joel said a little louder, but still refused to take his eyes off you.

Joel couldn't help himself; without waiting for his brother he cupped your breast, savouring the warmth in his palm and began to gently knead the flesh while his other hand lingered at your waist. Within seconds Tommy had moved to your other side and seemed to be eating you alive with his hungry, flashing eyes.

"Holy shit…," he hissed and then suddenly slapped your left breast that wasn't covered by Joel's hand making you yelp.

"God damn it, Tommy," Joel cursed and soothingly stroked your sensitive skin with his thumb. You whimpered when Tommy's hand came closer again, but this time he just touched you the way his brother did, his hand massaging your breast and occasionally squeezing it in his large palm.

After a while you relaxed again, your eyes almost closing before you remembered Joel's command and fixed your gaze on him and your limbs loosening as two hands took care of your chest. Their palms pressed into your flesh, fingertips tracing the swell of your breasts and when they rolled your nipples between their fingers from time to time, you whimpered or moaned, your own hand coming up to grasp theirs before they pinned your wrists to the side of your body.

Along with that, Tommy and Joel showered you with praise and compliments that somehow made you feel both proud and small. Maybe it was the fact that they were towering over your sprawled body or maybe it was just that they were physically stronger than you, but you felt yourself drift into submission the longer their hands remained on your chest.

"Pretty 'lil girl… Jesus, Joel… Look at her. Look how she bites her lips… Gonna bite them all bloody, babygirl," Tommy growled and then shoved two fingers inside your mouth without a warning.

Something about the two men talking about you like you weren't in the room aroused you so much, you felt dizzy. The whiskey in your system only added to the feeling of being drunk with pleasure and excitement.

"Suck 'em, yeah… Show me what a good girl you can be…"

His left hand left your breast as well and wrapped around your throat, applying light pressure which made your eyes round as coins while Tommy laughed at your stunned expression.

"Holy shit, didn't expect 'er to get all shy 'n' dumb in the bedroom… Just needed the hands of some real men on 'er body and we got 'er whining for us."

Now the older brother laughed as well and forcefully twirled your nipple which made you whince in pain, but it also enhanced the heat between your legs.

"There ya fuckin' go…," Joel hummed, twisting his lips and taking care of your other breast as well now that Tommy was busy with your mouth and neck.

Speaking of, he thrust his fingers in your mouth at a steady pace, making sure you glided your tongue around the digits and reminding you whenever you forgot.

"You'd like that to be my dick?" Tommy whispered, pushing deeper until your gag reflex kicked in and your eyes watered. "You'd like to gag 'round somethin' else? I know a slut like you would like that."

You choked and clung to his wrists, your nails scratching his skin as you desperately tried to fight the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. Without success, of course. Combined with the restriction of air from his hand around your throat, it became too much and you writhed under Tommy's penetrating fingers, jerking away had Joel not had you secure under his touch.

"No… no, uh…," the younger brother made and only pushed deeper, his deep brown eyes on you like a predator observing his victim. "You're stayin' right here. We only just got started, haven't we?"

He chuckled lowly and moved closer to you until his knee was right next to your arm.

"Careful, Tommy. Don't give 'er too much," Joel warned.

His brother grinned, hooking his fingers behind your lower teeth as he released his hand from around your neck, giving you a moment to catch your breath before he tightened his grip again, leaving you gasping as your lungs desperately craved a few steady breaths.

"Don't worry, she can handle it… Isn't that right, babygirl? You can handle it… Show Joel how you can handle it, pretty girl…"

You weren't sure if you could, actually. The sensation was overwhelming, so intense, that you barely even registered Joel's hands on your torso anymore which you regretted because his touch had been soft and beautiful despite his rough skin that was marked by years of heavy fighting and working.

You gurgled something that neither you nor any of the brothers was capable of understanding, but Tommy seemed to find it amusing because he pushed even deeper until he hit the back of your throat and you couldn't help yourself and buckled, your shivering hands desperately clutching his stronger and bigger ones and your feet kicking as a sign that it was too much. The crease between Joel's brows deepened and he put a hand on his brother's shoulder to get his attention.

"Enough, Tommy. I don't want 'er to get sick all over the bed or have 'er suffocate."

Tommy shook his head, the wry smile glued to his face, but actually listened to Joel and slowly pulled his fingers out of your mouth, a string of spit connecting the pats with your mouth. You greedily inhaled, your chest heavily rising as there was finally enough air to enter your lungs and Joel was relieved as he saw your pupils focusing on him through the veil of tears.

"Good girl… Did so well for him," he praised and cupped your cheek, not minding the mess on it. You gave him a soft smile and Joel was just about to lean in to kiss you, but Tommy was already planning on how to take you next and interrupted the intimate moment.

"Fuckin' Christ, she already struggled to take two fingers… I'm gonna feed her my dick next, wanna see her cry 'n' gag around it."

Joel lightly tapped against your cheekbone, enjoying the view before Tommy took hold of your waist and pulled you to the edge of the bed.

"Get on your knees," he ordered, sinking down on the mattress to sit with his legs spread while you rushed to do as you were told.

"She's a fuckin' dream," Tommy growled with a glance at his brother, then unbuckled his belt in order to pull down his jeans and boxers.

"Get behind 'er, Joel, an' play with her pussy. I wanna get 'er real messy and fucked out while she sucks my dick so she won't fight so hard when I fuck 'er throat."

Joel shook his head in disbelief, but couldn't hide the amused smirk.

"So now I'm takin' fuckin' commands from you?" he chuckled, but climbed off the bed to stand behind you, his hands situated on his hips while he watched the scene unfold before him. You crouched at Tommy's feet, your gaze fixed on his hands, which had now freed his cock and were pumping his length and your own palms flat on the floor.

"'Course you are. If your 'lil brother asks so nicely…"

"I'm gonna let 'er ride my boot. I think we should make 'er work for it a little, mhm?"

Joel circled you, stroking your head which really made you feel like their pet and then sank down to sit next to his brother with a sigh, the mattress creaking under his weight.

"Open your legs, little one," Joel said and then pushed against his brother's arm. "Move a little. Needa get my foot under her."

Tommy complied, but grabbed a handful of your hair to move your head with him, keeping it close to his center. Your body was slanting now, your knees almost directly in front of Joel while your lips were inches away from his brother's throbbing manhood.

"Open your mouth. Wide 'n' nice like a good girl."

Fuck, you were scared now. Of course you had sucked dick before and had often made your boyfriends finish with your mouth, but you knew that this would be different. Tommy and Joel were different, the torment of his two fingers had shown that much. What if you wouldn't perform the way they wanted?

Still, you tried your best when you unlocked your jaw and parted your lips as wide as you could. It felt like your eyes were already stinging with tears although nothing had happened yet, but it didn't get past Tommy.

"Jesus, this bitch is already cryin'. Didn't even start yet…"

He wrapped a hand around his dick and guided the tip to your lips to smear his pre cum all over them while he held your head in place.

"You just enjoy cryin'? You enjoy tearin' up whenever things don't go the way you want 'em to?"

He teasingly inserted his tip into you, gasping softly when your lips closed around it and started to suck on it, but he didn't grant you much freedom, his grip on your hair tight and uncompromising.

"Check it out, man," Tommy hissed and although it was directed at Joel, you looked up as well, your pupils flickering between the two brothers.

"We got ourselves a perfect 'lil slut. Just look at 'er. Fucking hell…"

"Lift your hips a little," you now heard a slightly softer voice and automatically obeyed the gentle sound. Joel slipped his foot beneath you and positioned it so your clothed pussy was hovering right above the rough and creased leather of his boot.

"You're gonna be a good girl 'n' ride my boot, okay?"

Your watery eyes were now on the older brother, your pupils flared and your lids fluttering in panic. All you wanted was to be good for them, but what if you couldn't give them what they wanted from you?

"I-I don't know h-how," you truthfully whispered and yelped when Tommy pushed your head down his length to shut you up.

"Jesus, s'not a fuckin' science," Joel growled, pushing his foot up to apply pressure. "You just roll your hips and rub your 'lil clit against me, alright? You know where your clit is?"

That last part sounded more like a statement than a question, and finally you could nod your head in the affirmative and rejoice at the generous nod of Joel's head.

"Good. Just make yourself feel good. You're gonna need it to take our dicks in your 'lil pussy later so you better be good."

The blood in your veins throbbed at his words, the prospect of taking both brothers in your clenching hole arousing you so much, the view around you became blurry, but perhaps this was also caused by Tommy's cock that was now deep inside your throat. He was merciless when he made you take every inch, not giving you any time to adjust and then the next thing you felt were his balls pressed against your face and your stomach dangerously rumbling.

"Holy shit," Tommy panted, his nails painfully digging into your scalp. He ignored your retching and moaning, his head thrown back and his eyes closed like he didn't even notice the way your body resisted.

"She must be fuckin' kiddin' me… Look at that Joel, takin' every inch like goddamn whore. She was fuckin' made to suck dick."

Joel grinned and slowly moved his foot underneath you until he saw your body tense and the knew that he had touched your right where he wanted to. Then he gave you a sharp slap on your bottom, his dick twitching at your whimper, and tightly squeezed your flesh in his hand.

"I said I want ya to get off on my boot. You're gonna start movin' now I'll make you."

A cry went past your lips, which was muffled by Tommy's dick, but the words seemed to have reached your mushy brain because your hips began to shift.

"There ya go… Good girl… Just need a smack on your cute 'lil ass and you behave yourself."

Your lashes fluttered, your pussy clenching around nothing at his words, but Joel sensed it in the way your center pushed down against his boot with more eageness.

"Jesus, Tommy… She's gettin' off on this. She likes it when we talk to 'er this way."

"I know she does. She's a 'lil whore and I knew so from the start. The way she enjoyed all these boys lookin' at 'er… She's an attention whore even though she just wants someone to put 'er in 'er place," Tommy smirked and ran a hand down to your neck to threateningly stroke your skin almost like he was about to choke you again, but wanted to taste your fear a little longer.

"Yeah, you like that?" he whispered, grinning as he ran a thumb over the pool of wetness under your eyes that your tears had created.

"Like gettin' that pretty throat o'yours fucked while we talk you down? Like bein' a dirty set o'holes for us? An obedient 'lil pet? S'what ya are, mhm?"

His tip in the back of your throat twitched which caused you to gag and without Tommy's secure grip in your hair you would have jerked away from him.

"Not so fast," he growled and pushed you down even deeper as a punishment.

At this point you were a mess although it had only been around 20 minutes since you had entered the house. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, your whole body shaking and trembling in a mixture of pain and pleasure, your chin soaked with pre-cum and spit. Tommy didn't help matters by spitting right onto your face and laughing at the way his drool got stuck in your eyelashes, making it even harder for you to see.

"Fuck me… She's a mess."

You had stopped riding Joel's boot even though it had felt divine to rub your aching clit against the leather tip, but you had to concentrate fully on your breathing in order not to suffocate. Joel let you feel the consequences of your disobedience and delivered another forceful slap to your back that made you cry out around his dick and your head dropped, resting on Tommy's thigh while he still didn't let you catch your breath.

"Do that again, Joel," the younger brother said under breath and pressed your head against his muscular leg to keep you still while he moved the hair out of your face.

Joel suddenly stood up, made his way around your crouched body and knelt down behind you which unsettled you as you weren't able to see what was happening. At least it's Joel and not Tommy, you thought. Joel had been kinder to you so far, his hands more tender and careful and he had even restrained his brother when he feared that he was being too rough with you. You definitely had more trust in Joel, but still anxiously squirmed when you felt two large hands grabbing your hips.

"Hold still," Tommy grunted and buckled his hips, which caused you to gag once more.

Joel changed your position on the floor slightly, lifting your hips and forcing you down on all fours while pushing up your tiny excuse of a skirt. At this point you were so fucked out that you forgot Tommy's request and therefore squealed when his hand came down on your ass once more, leaving a sharp, cutting pain on your backside. Your back arched to flinch away from Joel, but he didn't hesitate to pull you back and press a hand to the small of your back right where it met the crease of your ass.

"That's right…," Tommy whispered and slightly pulled out of your mouth to listen to the delicious wet noise only to thrust back in, his eyes rolling back at the warmth your throat offered.

"She always whines so wonderfully when you hit 'er. Creates the perfect vibrations," he told Joel and pursed his lips when you coughed around his length.

"Aww, s'too much for you?" He pulled your head off his dick by yanking you back by your hair, allowing you to inhale so deeply that you had to cough again, which made the two men laugh. Joel hit you again, but somehow you were immune to it, instead struggling to calm your pounding heart and swallowing to fight your sore throat.

"Answer me," Tommy fizzled, shaking your head with his hand tangled in your messy hair.

Joel reacted too, slapping your pussy this time, and you closed your legs, whimpering softly as new tears fell from your waterline.

"Stop fuckin' cry 'n' use your voice," Tommy warned you and leaned down so his hot breath that smelled of whiskey brushed over your ear.

"I know ya can use it so well… I hear it all the fuckin' time when you talk with your 'lil friends, whisperin' an' flirtin' like a cheap whore."

"Yes," you sobbed and closed your eyes because by now your eyes were swollen and sensitive from all of your crying. "S'too much… Please."

You were surprised by how stable your voice was because the state of your throat was bad. It was dry despite the fact that Tommy had made a hell of a job wettening it with his pre-cum and hurt every time you swallowed. So you let the brothers know.

"Hurts. When I swallow 'n' when I talk."

You brought a hand to your neck to show them where it ached and then shrieked when Tommy slapped your cheek.

"I see," he then purred, gently stroking your hair like he hadn't just smacked you across the face and wiped away some of the tears.

"Joel, take her wrists. Can't have 'er 'lil hands get in the fuckin' way all the time."

You didn't know what was happening but when Joel grabbed both of your hands, taking them in one large hand and pinning them on your back you just knew that you felt helpless. You whimpered, unable to complain vocally, and moaned as you saw Tommy's hard dick dangling dangerously close to your face again. This time you couldn't even support yourself with your hands on his legs or the floor and had no control over what was happening as he fed you his dick again, your head resting sideways on his thigh.

"Yeah. That's right… She's amazing, Joel. You should try it out next," Tommy growled, rolling his hips at a steady pace now to thrust in your throat which you definitely preferred over the previous assault because that way you always had a second to inhale fresh air despite his punishing speed.

"I don't know, I really wanna feel 'er pussy. I just know that she's fuckin' tight," Joel lowly chuckled and then parted your knees again to slide a finger through your folds.

"Jesus… she's soaked. You were right, Tommy, she likes this shit."

The younger brother smiled broadly and slapped you lightly on the cheek a few times, your watery eyes flinching each time his hand touched your skin, but when he was finished he rewarded you with a short pause to catch your breath.

"Bet she does. 'Cause she's a slut. Always all innocent and polite, but actually a filthy greedy slut. Shoulda known by how she dresses up."

Your skirt was still tangled around your waist and he gave the fabric a firm tug to move you closer to his center while you nearly lost your balance, your hands still trapped by Joel's. But they had you securely in their hold, Tommy's hand keeping your head snug against his thigh and Joel's hand firm on your hips so your weak knees wouldn't give in.

In the meantime he had started to rub your clit through your panties, finding great joy in watching you squirm and arch at the tight circles he drew around your little pearl and slapping either your pussy or your bottom every now and then when you expected it the least. Your head was spinning with pleasure and pain because the friction against your clit drove you wild, his finger so precise and skilled, but then there were your knees that hurt so much you just wanted to cry.

They were bruised and sore, the hard floor beneath you doing nothing for them and you wished you could ask Tommy to fuck your mouth in a different position even though you didn't believe he would do you the favor. But maybe Joel would? It didn't matter anyway because you were unable to speak, your mouth pliant and open for Tommy to wreck it and he did. You preferred what he was doing to you now to what he had done five minutes ago, but that didn't mean this was easy. He wasn't careful or gentle with you, using your throat like a tool or just some worthless hole to receive pleasure from and he wasn't shy to choke or slap you when you resisted. By now it wasn't just the lower half of your face that was coated with spit, tears and pre-cum, but the wetness was dripping down to his thigh your head rested on as well. Tommy didn't mind though. He would make you lap up every last drop anyway.

"Shit, I'm fuckin' close," he panted and as your mushy brain understood the words and you were already preparing yourself for his load, he suddenly stopped and pulled you off his leaking dick. You must have looked surprised because Tommy chuckled and brushed his thumb over your hot, flushed cheek.

"Don't ya worry, babygirl. You're gonna get my cum later. Just haven't decided yet where I'm gonna put it. How can I, if I haven't even seen you 'lil pussy yet?"

Tommy pulled at your hair, making you raise your head from his thigh and then slapped you across your breasts that were already sore and red from the previous treatment.

"Let's fuck 'er," he then said to Joel, who gave your pussy one last slap directly on your clit and then removed his hands from your core.

"Oh no, wait… I almost forgot," Tommy lowly chuckled and cupped your chin, watching you until your big, misty eyes were focused on his face. He gave it a firm squeeze and then pointed to his thigh.

"You see the mess you made, babygirl? Who's gonna clean it all up, huh?"

You sniffled and darted down to where a mixture of various bodyfluids were glistening on his hairy thigh and then looked up to him again.

"What you're waitin' for, mhm?" Tommy grinned and expectantly watched you. "It's not gonna clean itself up on its own."

You slightly nodded before lowering your head and then lapped up the wetness covering his leg. It tasted musky and metallic, but first and foremost salty. It wasn't the worst thing you had ever had on your tongue, but you weren't exactly a fan of it either so you were relieved when you had finally licked his skin clean and proudly raised your head to show Tommy the result. You had expected praise or perhaps an affectionate brush over your cheek, but he just gently slapped your face and then sighed out.

"There ya go…" With a glance at his brother Tommy stood up and now you finally paid attention to Joel again. While you had been busy cleaning his little bother's thigh he had undressed as well and now your pussy clenched at the sight of his broad shoulders and chest and the hair on his stomach that was a little greyer than Tommy's thick black strands. He still wore his jeans, but you liked what you were seeing so far and unconsciously pressed your thighs together.

"How are we gonna take 'er?" Joel asked his brother, smirking as he felt your eyes on him and leaning down to cradle your head while meeting Tommy's gaze.

"On 'er back. Don't think she's gonna handle bein' on all fours. Can barely even hold 'erself up like this."

He was referring to the way you crouched at Tommy's feet because after their rough treatment your limbs felt so heavy, your knees hurting at the slightest contact and your arms too weak to support your weight.

"Alright," Joel shortly answered and then, without the slightest hesitation, leaned down to slip his hands under your arms and lifted you in the air like you weighed nothing. Instinctively you wrapped your legs around his hips and nestled your face against his neck, inhaling his scent that smelled of smoke and leather and whimpering when he let go of you way too soon.

Joel had carefully tossed you onto the bed, well-aware that you were too weak to catch yourself and now the two brothers were standing on either side of the bed, observing you so intensely, you would have felt embarrassed in any other situation.

"She found a likin' in you," Tommy grinned and put his hands on his hips.

"Yeah? That right?" Joel whispered, returning the smirk and then followed you on the bed. With deliberate and strong hands he parted your legs, revealing what hid in between to his brother with a hungry sparkle in his eyes.

"See that, Tommy? Perfect fuckin' pussy…"

Tommy joined the two of you on the bed and you felt the heat creep up on your face as both men stared at your most intimate and vulnerable body part with such a naturalness and confidence that you couldn't help but look away.

"You wanna taste her?" Joel said, gliding his thumb through your slit just like he had done earlier and then lazily drawing it over your clit, looking so calm and relaxed as if it was just a secondary task.

"Nah, I don't think so. Needa feel 'er."

Joel pressed his tip of his thumb into your clit causing you to moan, but neither of them paid any attention to you.

"You think she can take it though? Without cumming before we fuck 'er?"

"Hell yeah. Look at 'er, she's soaked." Tommy parted your pussy lips, licking over his lips at the milky liquid leaking from your quivering hole.

"Yeah, but she seems tight. Maybe we should prepare her with our fingers at least."

His younger brother rolled his eyes and suddenly his hand came down to your pussy, the blow landing with a wet, gloopy thwack that echoed against the walls.

"Now she's well perfused. She can take it. Just watch it."

"Jesus Tommy… I just don't wanna split 'er apart."

Joel's eyes found your face, which looked somewhere between excited and a little frightened and his expression softened, a hand sliding down your arm until he squeezed your wrist and felt his heart flutter at your shy, yet curious smile.

"You think you can take it, babygirl? You're not a virgin, are ya?"

"No," you replied. "I wanna take it. I can take it, I swear."

"There ya fuckin' go… You're worryin' too much. She said it herself, she can take it. Now either fuck her or move to the side."

Joel exhaled in annoyance, shaking his head, but pushed Tommy's arm away.

"I'm gonna fuck 'er. And you stop pissin' me off, alright? Jesus."

Joel grabbed the inside of your thighs and spread them wider, his breath hitching as your pussy lips parted to reveal your pink, wet entrance that was probably sore from the spankings, but looked so soft, he would have shoved his tongue inside you, if Tommy hadn't been so eager and rushing. He jutted out his lower jaw and placed a hand on your belly while his other began unbuckling his belt. Your eyes followed his movements, a restricted longing moan leaving your throat as he shoved down his jeans, the bulge huge under his boxers.

"Shit, the 'lil bitch is drooling at you," said Tommy, his body vibrating with laughter as he sat down next to you and gave your breast a firm squeeze.

"She prefers me," Joel smirked and ignored the way his brother shot arrows at him with his eyes.

"You do, babygirl, huh?" Joel then whispered, his dick free now and your eyes round as coins. Joel was thicker than his brother, but not as long and didn't possess the same curve as Tommy's girth.

"Look at me. He surely likes the attention, but eyes on my face, alright?" His voice was low and rough, but there was something soft about it that made you fully trust him. While Tommy seemed hot-heated and wild, Joel had a natural dominance about him, but also a protective and caring side that made you believe that you were safe and taken care of. Even now when the fat tip of his cock was so dangerously close to your dripping entrance and looked so huge, you feared that the sting would be unbearable, you knew that Joel would take care of it.

"Yes," you breathed and ran your eyes over his clenched jaw.

"Don't worry, Joel, I'll take care of 'er in case she forgets to be a good girl," Tommy joined the conversation and propped himself on his elbow, his hand petting your head which made you feel even smaller.

"You're ready to take my dick again, little one? I'll give you a few minutes so we can enjoy your pathetic 'lil squeals and sobs and the terrified look on your face, but then you'll go right back to work, suckin' my cock like a good girl."

Tommy laughed about the sheer terror on your face, but Joel couldn't find it in himself to join, instead shaking his head and feeling grateful that he got to be the one to open you up first.

"Shut the fuck up, Tommy. You're scarin' the shit outta her."

"That's the plan, man," Tommy replied, pulling back your lower lip only to have it snap back with a plop.

Joel frowned, hoping that his brother would get the warning from the serious look on his face, but it seemed that he was too distracted by playing with your breasts and lips to give a fuck. Therefore Joel decided to ease your nervousness by gently cradling your head and securing his grip on your waist.

"Don't worry, hon. I'm not gonna go too hard on ya. Just need ya to relax for me and let me in, alright?"

You softly nodded and although your eyes remained wide, you loosened slightly underneath him and it only improved when Joel started rubbing your clit again.

"Yeah, sweetheart… Knew you could do it, just relax for us…," he purred and then glared at his brother. "Gonna fuck her now. Hold her shoulders in case she squirms away."

Tommy gave him an agreeing grin and then buried his fingers into the flesh of your shoulders, pinning you down and kissing your temple while Joel began to slowly ease his tip into you.

"Relax, baby… Yeah…," Joel cooed you, his grasp on your hips firm and rigid so you had no chance to avert his large dick.

Of course it hurt. He was thicker than any cock you had ever had inside of you and even though you were soaked, your walls wet and sticky from your arousal, the burning sting brought tears to your eyes and your instinct was to jerk away. But Tommy was prepared for your resistance and unwaveringly held you down while Joel claimed your aching pussy to the whole.

"Hurts," you choked and buckled your hips away, pressing yourself into the mattress as if you could escape his large dick that way.

"I know it does…," Tommy whispered in your ear and grabbed your hands that were around Joel's wrists, your nails scratching over his skin in an attempt to find release as the pain made your mind dizzy. He took both your wrists in one hand and pinned them down above your head so you were completely helpless.

"Hurts... oh god..." you repeated and a heartbreaking cry left your trembling body, prompting Joel to continue his circles around your clit.

"It's alright. It's gonna be better, babygirl, just try 'n' relax 'round me."

Your body convulsed in pain, your breathing heavy and unsteady and your face grimacing whenever he went an inch deeper. But somehow you made it. Somehow you endured it and then Joel was inside you to the brim.

"Look at that…," Joel made, his voice thick with pleasure and contentment and brushed your hair that was wet from your sweat and tears out of your face until he looked into a pair of hectic and squinting eyes.

"You took it all, little one… So brave 'n' good for us… Wasn't so bad, was it?"

You didn't know why, but you shook your head. It had been bad. It had hurt like hell, but now that Joel was so deep inside of you, his dick filling you so intensely that you literally felt him everywhere in your body and his mouth producing those sweet and kind words of praise, you didn't care anymore. You lived for these tender phrases even when the brothers were talking about you like you weren't in the room or like you were too dumb to understand them. You just wanted attention, maybe that was the core of it all and you had a feeling Joel and Tommy knew better what worked on you than yourself.

"Holy fuckin' shit, Joel, I don't know what you did to 'er, but teach me," Tommy laughed in disbelief and threw his head back while his hand holding your wrists down relaxed a little.

"Tearin' her apart on your dick and she's so fuckin' close to thankin' you for it."

Joel crookedly smiked, but his eyes remained soft and warm. Maybe that was what you liked so much about him, his brown eyes that radiated comfort and safety even when he was degrading you. It made you think that he actually cared about you and didn't just use to dump his seed into you like his brother certainly did.

"I fuckin' know. That one definitely has some issues," Joel chuckled and changed the positions of his hands, tracing his hand from your neck down to your tummy where he squeezed your flesh and then rested his right hand on your waist and his left hand right next to your boob on the side of your body.

"Please," you whispered and cried out when Tommy rolled your nipple between two fingers.

"Stupid fuckin' slut…," he cursed and then slapped the already reddened swell of your breasts.

"Fuck 'er brains out, okay? She don't need 'em anyway. All she's good for is bein' a 'lil fucktoy. Don't go soft on 'er, alright, Joel, I wanna see some pretty tears on those cheeks."

Joel exhaled and slowly pulled himself out of you until only his tip was inside and then slammed back in, making you flinch and whince in pain.

"Can you please stop tellin' me what the hell I'm supposed to do? I'm gonna fuck 'er the way I want. You can have 'er when I'm done and then you can do whatever fucked up things you want."

You writhed with the space the two men were granting you and softly wailed, his words only vaguely and with some delay fighting their way through your hazy mind.

"Fuckin' Christ, Joel. Don't know why you're so sensitive… You like that 'lil whore, don't you?" he then grinned, dropping his piercing gaze to examine your fucked-out frame.

"Goddamnit, no, I don't. You can do whatever you like to 'er, I just want you to stop tellin' me what I'm supposed to do and lemme do with 'er as I like."

Tommy shrugged and began pumping his dick while staring at your chest.

"Alright. Do as you like. As long as you don't wear her out too much and I can still fuck 'er after you're done."

"Don't worry, I think she's also pleasant to look at when she's asleep," Joel wryry grinned and forcefully smacked the side of your ass which made your eyes pop open.

"Oh no, I want 'er awake when I fuck 'er. Wanna hear her 'lil moans and whines and not fuck a lifeless frame. Where's the fun in that?"

Tommy's large hand cupped your chin and tilted your head, forcing you to bend your neck so the tip of his dick was hovering right in front of your lips.

"Open. Wide."

When you didn't immediately react, Tommy spitted right in your face and this time the load landed on your nose and upper lip.

"I said open."

Joel was fucking you at a steady pace, the pain almost entirely vanished now and his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust which made it hard for your eyes not to flutter and for your mind to remain fully there, the prospect of just lying flat and still and giving yourself to Joel's deep pumps too seductive.

But you managed to part your swollen lips and immediately tasted the salty and familiar flavor on your tongue. Now that your mouth worked again your eyes had fallen shut which wasn't to their pleasing. They slapped your body almost simultaneously, Joel hitting you on your ass and Tommy on your cheek and a loud whine was muffled by Tommy's length.

"None of that, babygirl. We talked about it, haven't we?" Joel commented and connected his thumb with your clit.

"Just got one fuckin' job. Keepin' those pretty legs spread and your eyes and lips open an' we're pleased."

Although Tommy was now thrusting his cock into your mouth, you were looking at Joel, which filled him with a primal and profane satisfaction. Who would have thought that you would like him so much, even after he had obviously caused you so much pain by entering you with what was certainly not enough preparation? A thought flickered in his head, a pleasing and delightful one that Joel didn't even dare to finish, too scared that he was fooling himself. But what if you had liked him before? What if you had dreamt about him the way he had or even just spent a few more minutes a day thinking about him than any other of the men in Jackson? You certainly seemed to like him and Joel could sense that in more ways than one.

Not only did you not break eye contact with him for a second, but he could swear that your hands would have been searching for his bare skin if they hadn't been trapped by Tommy. His younger brother was kneeling right next to your head, his left knee pinning your wrists to the bed while his right touched your neck every time he thrust forward to bury himself deep in your throat.

Joel continued for a couple of minutes, savouring the warmth and tightness of your pussy while brushing over your trobbing swollen pearl until he just couldn't restrain anymore and cleared his throat.

"Let go of 'er hands, Tommy," he growled and gently traced your side boob.

"Why," his brother barked, gripping your head so you couldn't move while he steadily rolled his hips, the tip of his dick grazing over the inside of your cheek. "Don't want 'er 'lil hands everywhere. Wanna keep 'er still."

"I'll take them," Joel insisted and bit his bottom lip at the way you greedily swallowed, struggling as Tommy's manhood twitched in your mouth and once again triggered your gag reflexes.

"C'mon, Tommy."

Eventually he gave in and raised his knee so Joel could reach up and grab your hands to clamp them against your stomach, softly applying pressure while your pupils once again franctically danced over his expression until your lids twitched and tears appeared on your waterline at his brother's punishing pace in your mouth.

"Easy…," Joel soothed you and lightly touched the side of your neck to calm your trembling and jolting. "Don't fight it. It's gonna be better if you let it happen, babygirl."

Broken sobs and whimpers left your throat, but you tried to listen to Joel's advice and opened up wide for Tommy who triumphantly smiled at the wet sound that was created when his dripping dick slid past your lips.

"Good fuckin' girl… Jesus, you have to try it as well. She's goddamn amazing." He laughed and it was a high, hollow sound. "Look at how she's takin' it all. I don't want 'er to do anythin' else from now on but suck dick. Every guy on this planet should try her at least once."

The brothers exchanged a satisfied glance before Tommy reached down to your mould to slap your sensitive skin.

"How's her pussy? Seems to be tight, mhm?"

Joel tilted his head at you, flicking your clit to the side to elicit more of those muffled moans that he was convinced weren't caused by pain at this point, and then inhaled deeply.

"A goddamn dream. Most perfect pussy I've ever had. Could've sworn she was a virgin… Maybe all her boys just have tiny dicks and that's also why she can't fuckin' handle all this."

Both men erupted into a rich, resonant laughter, deep and husky like the distant rumbling of thunder and it rang in your head in the most arousing way. Who would have thought that you would like this kind of treatment? Not that you were the most experienced person in the world, but you certainly had tried yourself out with different boys, but none of them had even just lightly slapped your ass. The sex with them was vanilla and soft and frankly, a little boring. Definitely nothing in comparison to this. This was a thrilling, sensational, captivating experience and even the occasional discomfort and pain made your head spin in a way you had never experienced before. They talked you down like you were a dumb pet, like you merely served for their pleasure and they tossed you around like your feelings didn't matter at all and somehow it turned you on so much, your pussy clenched around Joel every few seconds which didn't go unnoticed by him.

"She's squeezing me so tightly, Tommy. Fuckin' Christ, she's lovin' this. What a slut," he groaned and chortled when you flinched at his hand coming down on your clit.

"Let's switch," said Tommy suddenly and pulled out faster than you could process, your mouth agape even long after he had removed his length. All of your senses worked a little slower than usual and you could only silently watch as Tommy crawled to kneel next to Joel, who sighed at the loss of body contact as he pulled out of your other hole as well. Now was the first time in a while that you were free to move, but you noticed that you were too exhausted and tired to lift a limb.

You could just lay still, your heavy lids fluttering and your stomach twisting with a mixture of longing and overstimulation while Joel took his place next to your head where Tommy had previously kneeled and the younger brother situated himself between your parted legs.

"Now she'll learn how a real man fucks," Tommy hissed, his face drawn with amusement, and caught his brother's eyes that rolled at his comment.

"Very funny," Joel said and then tapped his tip against your bottom lip.

You were a little frightened because you had already learned that he was even thicker than Tommy, but you calmed yourself with the thought that Joel didn't enjoy your suffering half as much as his brother. Or at least he looked out for your well-being and made sure that he wasn't giving you more than you could handle.

"Open those sweet lips, angel," he whispered almost like he only wanted you to hear these words and then glided his tip in just in the same moment as Tommy entered you in one go. You were prepared for it by Joel's thick girth, but the stretch was still prominent as he was far from being careful with you.

"S'okay… Just give it a moment, sweetheart," Joel soothed your yelp and just like Tommy had previously done for him, held you down by pressing a hand on your collarbone.

Tommy soon started moving and split your pussy open with deep and forceful thrusts that each pushed you up against the bed, but Joel made sure he kept you in place for his brother. He patiently waited until your breathing calmed down and your heavy panting went evenly and then once he believed you to be ready, started moving in your mouth too. Not that his way of feeding you his dick was in any way comparable to Tommy's. Joel allowed you to use your tongue to twirl it around his shaft rather than deepthroating you and you found such a liking in it that you even had enough strength to bring a hand to his base and hold on to his dick while bobbing your head around him.

"Yeah, you're bein' such a good girl…," Joel praised which made your heart pound with pride and you put even more effort into stimulating his dick in a way that would make him shower you with sweet words and pet names.

"See, Tommy? As soon as she has a real nice dick in 'er mouth she makes an effort."

Tommy grabbed your ass, nails painfully digging into the flesh of your ass and shook his head.

"No, no, no… She's just a cockslut who can't get enough. You're a pussy for lettin' 'er take control though. Should fuck 'er throat until she can't talk 'n' cry 'n' breathe. The moment she sobs, you're doin' something right."

Joel gently traced your hairline, his eyes on you, who seemed like you were deeply concentrated as you looked at your hand pumping his dick while your warm lips repeatedly slided up and down his length.

"Think she hasn't cried enough yet?" Joel chuckled and blindly reached to cup one of your breasts.

"Never," Tommy replied and then the next few minutes were filled with silence except for the sound of Tommy's hips crashing against yours, his balls slapping against your folds and the smacking noise that was created by your mouth drooling all over Joel's dick.

That was until a deep grunt left Tommy's mouth and he gripped your hips so tightly, you cringed under the touch.

"I'm gonna cum soon," he said under breath and ran the back of his hand over his forehead to wipe away the pooling sweat.

"Me too," Joel answered, his heart pounding loudly in his chest and his insides clenching and contracting every time the tip of your tongue touched his sensitive glans.

"You're gonna cum on 'er face? I'll mark 'er tits then."

Joel nodded absentmindedly, his thoughts racing and his throat completely dried out while he approached his orgasm in a record breaking amount of time and then suddenly wrapped a hand around his shaft, pulled out of your perfect warm mouth and pumped himself right above your face.

"Jesus… Oh my fuckin' god…," he growled and the next thing you felt were ropes of sticky, warm cum spilling onto your face.

It mostly landed on your chin, lips and cheeks, but you were still glad you had closed your eyes because the salty seed would surely have burned in your eyes. While you licked over your lips to have a taste of his cum, contently listening to Joel's moans and curses, you felt a hand groping your breast with such a force your body arched under Tommy's grip, but he was merciless as he squeezed your flesh in his palm and then, ignoring your painful whine released as well. He came all over your breasts and the feeling of the warm liquid spurting on your chest was an unfamiliar one, but not an unpleasant one.

"Holy fuckin'…" Tommy didn't finish the sentence because he dropped his head to his chest, breathing loudly and pressing a hand to his heart while he let go off his flaccid dick and sank back to sit with his thighs touching his calves.

Silence filled the room again and it allowed you to calm yourself a litte as well although you hadn't orgasmed. You swallowed a few times to do something about the burning sting in your dry throat and then found a more comfortable position by rolling on your side and bending your legs.

You hadn't even noticed that you had turned away from Joel until a large hand took hold of your knee and moved you to lay on your back again. A pair of brown eyes examined your face for any sign of discomfort, his hand stroking up and down your leg and his breathing still coming in harsh bursts while you coughed a few times.

"You alright?" Joel wanted to know and for some reason the concern in his eyes made your pussy throb.

"Yes," you softly whispered and then your gaze dropped to where he supported his weight on his palm, your hands quickly reaching for his wrist which made him grin.

In the meantime Tommy had sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his sweaty hair and now peeked over his shoulder only to laugh at your painted body.

"I gotta take a picture of this," he said and lazily, his feet dragging over the floor, headed to a shelf, grabbed his camera and walked to the edge of the bed.

"Smile, babygirl," he chuckled and took a picture of your fucked out form that was beautifully decorated with both of their cum, Tommy thought.

"Dirty slut," he additionally murmured and then put the camera back on the shelf.

"Jesus…," Tommy sighed and began picking up his clothes from the floor while Joel was busy drawing soothing circles on top of your thigh.

"I'm hungry. I think I'm gonna head downstairs. You wanna come too? We can clean up this mess later," he then claimed referring to the dirty bed sheets and perhaps to you as well, but Joel shook his head and darted at you.

"I'm gonna make 'er cum, too. She deserves it."

His brother lifted an eyebrow while pulling his jeans up his legs.

"Mhm, okay. You need my help?" Tommy laughed, but Joel moved his head again.

"No, it's alright. You go and eat. We'll join when I'm done here."

[nobigsecrets]

BuckTommy Fic Recs - Part 2 | Part 1

but sweet kisses i’ve got to spare by @26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat Rating: M, Words: 5,692 it’s 2 AM. tommy’s in pain. buck is the guy who likes to fix things.

the more you know by winterbucky (WinterLadyy) Rating: E, Words: 1,946 Tommy's nearing his 40s. He knows himself, experimented, learned his kinks and likes. There's not a lot that can surprise him. This is exactly why his reaction to Evan in a uniform, holding a clipboard, shocks the hell out of him. Thankfully, he has a caring boyfriend who's just as into this whole thing as Tommy is. or: tommy sees uniformed buck and ends up on his knees, calling him "sir" because you always can learn more about yourself. feat dirty talk, face fucking, leg humping, and a lot of softness

caught in the way you got me by @gaytommykinard Rating: E, Words: 2,465 Tommy’s brain short-circuits for a moment. He watches as Amalia slides up to him and he puts an arm around her shoulders, and they’re both looking at him kind of expectantly and he catches on only with seconds to spare before she asks, “You wanna come home with us?” (Threesome fic, Tommy/OFC/ OMC)

Tommy Kinard's Guide To The Best (And Worst) Places To Take A Nap by @salty-autistic-writer Rating: G, Words: 2,780 Tommy naps a lot. He’s not picky about where he’s taking his naps. But some places are better than others.

A Full-Body Workout by Persiflager Rating: E, Words: 7,901 When Tommy turns back to Eddie he finds Eddie giving him a knowing look. “Laundry and meal prep, huh?”

Big strong fireman boyfriend by @janekburza Rating: E, Words: 8,640 Tommy is a bottom. With his posture it’s hard to tell and not the first thing people think when looking at him. It doesn’t help that he likes to take charge and be more dominant in bed. Meeting Evan, as tall as him, as wide as him, made him hope that they’ll be compatible in this. Because Buck’s posture doesn’t take his adorableness away, and Tommy can work with that. Will their freaks match each other? (Of course.) Or: Sex positive look at Tevan’s relationship in season 7.

You’ve Got Me Up in a Frenzy by @emphasisonthehomo Rating: E, Words: 19,499 Between one breath and the next they pull apart. Tommy’s stomach is in knots. He keeps his eyes closed for just a second longer. Just to savor it. Before he needs to look at Evan and find out if he truly ruined this or not. OR Tommy seems more confident than he is.

Shattered Steel by @lovetommyactually Rating: M, Words: 3,041 Buck’s world came back in flashes. Pain—sharp and burning, radiating through his arm. Muffled voices. The distinct smell of metal and blood. A whisper—no, a voice he knew. A voice he loved.

AITA for trying to get my coworker and his ex back together? by @aringofsalt Rating: T, Words: 1,179 Some backstory: I (31M) have been at my job for about four years. My coworker B (30sM) is one of the boss's favourites, and has spent a lot of time hazing me, even after I passed my probation. He's a bit better now, but I've never considered him to be a particularly close coworker, let alone friend. Ravi turns to Reddit.

pinch-hit hero by @ashesandhalefire Rating: E, Words: 35,195 the one where Tommy is a veteran porn star, Buck makes a wish, and Chim calls in another favor

got my head checked by a jumbo jet by @beanarie Rating: G, Words: 5,254 "Natalia," Bobby parrots blankly. It's very unlike him. "I mean, I know we haven't been together long. I don't expect her to be here. But we- we probably had plans. I don't want her to- to think I ghosted her." Bobby leans forward in his chair. "Buck, what's the last thing you remember?" Buck's stomach does a flip. "Why."

leave that vision of hell to the dying by @26-cats-in-a-trenchcoat Rating: T, Words: 28,581 evan buckley's professional life as he knew it was over after he was struck by lightning. one year later, he makes a discovery that electrifies his life all over again. or: the forever young (1992) not-quite-au with cap trilogy & the shape of water vibes that's had me in a chokehold for less than a week. featuring man out of time!tommy kinard, too much trash, and a buck who is enough, just by being buck.

White Noise by @lovetommyactually Rating: M, Words: 5,900 Tommy never meant to chase after the call—he certainly never meant to get buried under a crumbling house with too many regrets and a body giving out beneath him. But one bad feeling led to a collapse, a broken leg, and a 9-1-1 call he almost didn’t make. With Maddie on the line and the 118 closing in, Tommy confronts more than just the pain.

the crash is coming soon by @screamlet Rating: M, Words: 3,926 "I just got put on administrative leave, pending an investigation." Tommy takes a shaky breath. "Can I stay at your place for a while?" (Post episode 8x15)

tomorrow never knows by jamesandanthony Rating: G, Words: 2,207 "Hello?" "Buck?" The voice scratches at Tommy's brain, familiar enough that he feels he should recognise it. "He's sleeping, can I help?" "Oh, good, I wasn't sure if he still had the same number," the voice says and suddenly it clicks. "Abby?" he says quietly, something like panic rising in his throat. (Post episode 8x15)

The Least Vulnerable Spot by @rcmclachlan Rating: T, Words: 4,405 Tommy doesn't attend the memorial procession. It's kind of Buck's fault.

in your (our) corner by @screamlet Rating: M, Words: 11,218 Sometimes, running is the answer. (Post episode 8x17)

[neodazed]

enhypen -🎀- squirting for them for the first time

ot7xfem!reader - when they make you squirt for the first time

warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f), cum eating, overstimulation, slight daddy kink, lmk if i missed smth

alr started writing this when I saw recent similar fics for enha but there’s like a hundred of these here so don’t think that’s an issue

my sunki fics flopped so bad i went back to writing imagines instead of my other drafts LMAO ty for more than 2k views on the last one and for 200+ followers. pls request after reader my post regarding that, i’d love to see and write ur thoughts!! have fun reading 💋 masterlist

HEESEUNG

For Heeseung it’s almost like squirting = marriage.

A new found level of possesiveness awakens in him, basically.

You’re laying flat on your back, legs spread as wide as they can go, and he is plunging three fingers inside you.

His pace is no other than harsh, not an inch of his being is trying to be gentle. To be honest, he doesn’t need to be anyway — that’s just how you like it.

Thank God you were wet, or else those ocassional spits on your clit wouldn’t be able to match the rough bones of his digits carving their well earned place in your fluttering hole. With each quick thrust, the low side of his palm bumps against your little nub, drawing a lovely whimper out of you.

He’s not leaning over your body, doesn’t press comforting kisses on your face or neck. He is sitting on his knees between your two trembling thighs, and watches your cunt gasping for his fingers hungrily.

It’s getting way too sloppy now, creating those nasty almost slurping-like sounds, and it almost makes him want to lean down and bury his mouth in there, but then again, the sight is so pretty for him.

So instead, he stares and he talks. And oh, his way of talking is dirty, all possesive. Speaking of your pussy as it was the most beautiful masterpiece hung up in his favorite museum.

Your hole clenches, tighter and more intensively than normally, and you feel a flood rushing down in your tummy, one that has you curling the tip of your toes backwards, gripping the sheets underneath you like you’re about to fell off a bridge.

You try to warn him in time, you swear. The weakest ‘Hee’ leaves your mouth, a mix of a somewhat scream and moan, and you grab his forearm, but as expected, it doesn’t make him stop, it just encourages him to increase every sensation he’s currently providing. So there’s nothing you can do when a gush of liquid spills out of you, high enough to latch onto his black fitted shirt.

His heart fucking flutters at that, pride swelling up in his chest.

‘You made that big mess for me?’

‘Only I can make you cum like that. I now that’s right.’

‘C’mon, squirt again for me. You know I’m not stopping ‘til you do.”

JAY

His head has been hitting your cervix repeatedly for some time now, his balls slapping against your ass with each stroke, shaft hitting your clit.

Absolutely no thoughts in your head, just dick dick and dick.

It’s almost like every vein was created just to brush your gummy walls with the perfect force he always settles on. He’s curved to fit right into you, and if he wasn’t, well, he carved out his place in there well enough by now.

Feeling full of him has to be the most precious feeling, talking about any of your holes. And his hands are rough, they grip and sink and have completely no restrain when it comes to your body.

It’s a release you don’t even really feel coming (maybe because he already emptied you so many times), it crashes onto you.

Your scream is one the neighbours will give dirty looks about later on, but truly, who cares in the moment? Not like he would have the strength to muffle it, or the attention, he is fixated on you.

On the way your sudden finish spurts all over his cock, his abs, his arms- he goes feral.

‘Oh my god, princess. What’d you do there?’ He laughs in amusement, his movements never stopping, just letting down from the pace.

‘You came all over Daddy’s cock? Without saying a word?’ He’s already back in full force, ignoring your whines and lightly pained whimpers, slamming into you even harder now.

‘I’m sure you can do it on command then, too. Come on, show me.’

JAKE

You already came three times.

Yet, no amount of tugging on his locks would make him lift his head up from between your shaking thighs.

See, Jake is a greedy man. Every time he gives head, he acts like a starved man who is on a strictly ‘pussy for all meals’ diet, and hasn’t eaten for weeks.

One orgasm is nothing to him. It’s like he doesn’t even notice it happened, he keeps going. Goes between munching at your folds and sucking on your clit.

Two orgasms make him hum quietly, like he’s just starting to get the taste of it.

Three? That’s a good number, but still, it’s not enough. If you managed to cum three times already, what’s stopping you from cumming one more?

That’s the logic.

And you would think the upcoming one would be just a tired suffer with minimal semen going into the mix of spit and cum, but it’s something else. He plunges his tongue deep into you, and begin to move it right there, and it almost feels like he’s flicking at your cervix.

You cry out, legs locking his head in space (not like he wasn’t glued there already). You swash right inside his open lips, on his tongue. He grips your thighs harder, and wait until you finish. When he lifts his head up, finally, it’s kinda…full of cum. Like, literally. His chin completely soaked, his nose wet, his eyelids covered too. It’s a sight for sure.

‘Baby…that was so fucking hot.’ He says in awe, blinking up at you. He’s so in love. You smile softly, though your face is going red more and more by the minute. You are still sprawled out, sticky and open, and now you feel a bit sheepish.

‘Can you clean me up, please?’ You mean with a towel. Obviously. That’s what normal people do.

But Jake’s smile turns slow. Dangerous. Still hungry.

He leans in.

You freeze.

‘Jake, wait-‘

But it’s too late. His tongue is already on your inner thigh, licking a slow stripe up to where you’re still dripping.

Then his mouth is on you again. Soft, wet kisses over the mess he made, drinking you down like it’s water after a drought.

You try to squirm away, gasping his name — but he just pins your hips down with a firm hand and grins up at you.

‘I’m just cleaning you up.” — Then, quieter — ‘Gotta take care of my girl, right?’

SUNGHOON

You were getting punished.

So how on earth was it so good?

The way he’s spanking your pussy should have made you cry a long time ago, but instead, it’s just keeps on getting…better? Sure, it hurts, how could it not? A very sensitive area, indeed, probably not made to be spanked, but…

It was the good kind of hurt. The one that kept chasing slick out of your hole after every swing on your clit. Your body is thrown between two different reactions, half squirming away, half desperately chasing the sensation.

No fingers inside, no thumb rubbing your bundle, no tongue stroking your folds — just rough, precise hits.

He is spreading you open with two fingers, but keeps them strictly there, no slipping in between. Only so that he can reach all of you, making sure it hurts enough. Enough that you realize what you have done wrong, refrain from ever doing it again. Enough so that you feel that this pussy belongs to him, and he can do whatever he wants to it.

To his surprise, it’s also enough to make you squirt.

To Fucking squirt.

One minute, he’s spanking your nasty little cunt, and you’re crying to stop, then the next, his pace has to falter, cause a flood of liquid splashes out of it.

He snorts. Not really in amusement.

‘You’re unbelievable, you know that?’ — He looks down at you with a scoff — ‘I’m trying to punish you here, and you enjoy yourself more than normally’

‘It’s just…sensitive’ You sniffle. The hurt now comes in stronger, when you are no longer getting stimulated.

Sunghoon tsk’s and pushes his dirtied digits past your tear-soaked lips. Your face crunches up from the taste, but you do your best to swallow all of it. And that fucker turns that around, too.

‘You really just slurped up all of it? Didn’t leave me anything?’

‘I-I thought-‘

‘I must take another taste, then…’

You cry out the moment his hot tongue makes contact with your red swollen clit.

SUNOO

He’s casually hovering over you, mouth on left nipple, finger rubbing your clit. The suckling and stroking movements are equally hard.

You guys’ve been at it for some time now, lazily making out, most of his energy being put into pleasuring you. You were already on the edge a couple of times but he stopped there and went back into it just to drag it out.

‘Shh, just a little more. You’re not that impatient, right?’

He earns himself an eye roll for that, but only snorts, and pushes you closer.

His bare chest presses against yours, kisses soft and deep, and it’d be romantic even, if you could forget that he’s been edging you for half an hour. He always says it’ll make your release bigger and better, but hasn’t really convinced you yet.

Until now.

Because when he finally settles on the good space, even after feeling your stomach tighten, it doesn’t take you any longer to squirt.

And, the ‘see? told you’ look on his face could not be more smug.

‘Wow. Look who was right?’

‘My new take is that I can make you squirt two times in a row. Wanna find out?’

JUNGWON

Jungwon, to put it simply, is flabbergasted when it happens.

Like, on his tongue?

Around his fingers?

Because of him?

What did he do in his past life to deserve this? Whatever it was he is one lucky mothefucker.

You couldn’t even prepare him or give him a chance to pull away (he would never), since you yourself didn’t expect it at all. The truth is, you’ve never squirted before. Orgasms with a little more force? Producing a little more cum than usual? Sure, those happened, nothing too crazy. But it certainly never splashed onto his face like a fucking cunami, Jungwon thinks.

Poor boy wants nothing but to bury himself there right away, but he's not sure if you'd want that, given that you're still shaking under him. Instead, he strokes your thighs (still around his head), and murmurs,

'That was...good, right?' He asks, voice suddenly shy like he forgot what was he doing in the first place.

'Baby...you just made me squirt into your mouth. It was more than good, trust me.' You say with a weak chuckle.

'I want to taste. Can I?' How could you even say no to that adorable pleading gaze?

'Go ahead, Wonnie. Taste how good you made me feel.'

RIKI

It was just a matter of time before your first squirt after you started having sex, you knew for sure.

Riki's ego didn't need a lift though, and since he never brought it up by himself, you just assumed he either didn't know you were capable of doing it. or he's just content with the usual five orgasms he brings you to every time you guys have sex.

He absolutely knew what he was doing to you every time, but this?

This he did not expect.

You were bouncing on his cock with your best of strength, and he was watching you with a smirk, layed back on his arms, annoying and hot as ever. He wasn't putting in too much effort, but when he did move his hips to meet your thrust, God it reached the most perfect spot without a single miss.

He made a few statements, and those were...

'Your tits are all up in my business. Just how they should be.'

'Fuck, Y/N, this pussy is squeezing me so hard. You were hungry for my cock, weren't you?'

'From this position, I'll come right onto your cervix, You're gonna be dripping so bad...'

With a rather loud cry, cum splashed out of your slick hole with a nasty sound. No thumb circling around your clit, no lips suckling on your nipples, just Riki's cock, raw and hard, all for you to fuck your little cunt on.

Of course he followed you immediatelly.

And of course, he had things to say.

'Oh. So we're squrting now?'

'Why wait a month? Were you shy to show how much you love this cock?' His finger is dipping down into your heat, bringing it to his mouth to taste.

'Riki, I'm sensi-'

'Shh. Let me see. You'll have to do it again now, anyway.'

[musingsofheaven]

CONSOLATION PRIZE

summary: he loses a match. you push his buttons. one stop on the side of the road turns into something way dirtier than either of you meant. you talk too much. he shuts you up. it’s messy, mean, and you shouldn’t love it this much. but you do. and he knows it. but you’re both a little too into it.

pairings: patrick zweig x reader

warnings: 11.7k words. mature themes. graphic, unhinged smut. porn without plot. semi-public setting (car). foreplay (fingering, deepthroating/face-fucking). spit play. rough sex. unprotected piv. impact play (breast and ass slapping). light choking. degradation kink (verbal and physical). objectification. d/s undertones. misogynistic/sexist dirty talk. overstimulation. cum play. dubcon-adjacent tone. voyeurism mention. threesome fantasy mention. read responsibly.

note: omg hi. so this was supposed to be like… a quick 1-3k smut fic. like just a “he’s pissed bcs he lost + you’re pushy = sex in a car” situation. but then... i kept writing. and writing. and apparently faint out somewhere around the throatfucking and woke up 11.7k words later with absolutely no plot and the most disgusting shit possible. no thoughts just patrick losing a match and treating your body like a stress toy <3 so… sorry? you’re welcome? thank you? idk. enjoy. don’t look me in the eye. love u sm. 🫶🏻💌

He's cocky, sure, but he's also prideful. That's the Patrick you know. Sometimes (most of the time, honestly), it's so annoying. Today is one of those times. He storms off before the final point is even announced, the man doesn’t wait for the handshake (his ego is too big to do such a thing), doesn’t nod at the crowd, or even look back again at the crowd (too scared, maybe, at the disappointment), grabs his bag like he wants to rip the strap clean off, and disappears down the tunnel. No, you don’t call after him. Not right away. You know how this works. He’s doing that thing again as if he walks as if he’s untouchable. Hell, he's masking all that nonchalant bullshit like losing doesn’t touch him, but the way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek says otherwise.

Because he lost. Again.

The third tournament this month. Who fuck does that? This third time, coming off the court with his pride hanging out like an open wound. He feels embarrassed, of course. You can see the look he gave the net as it betrayed him. He's acting like the universe giving him this shitty career.

And it’s not just the match. It’s the headlines. Fucking news that always reached his parents regardless they distance themselves from him. Yet he feels they are so close to cutting him off. He always remembers the comparison. God. God. God. He feels pathetic. But of course, he remembers it. The name everyone keeps bringing up even when no one says it out loud to him. Art. Undefeated. Effortless. Golden-boy Art, who somehow wins everything without ever looking like he’s trying. The perfect one. Patrick has to cut himself for his wins. And when he loses? They call him second best with a fucking smile.

“Pat,” you call, jogging to catch up. “Hey. Wait up.”

He doesn’t. He doesn't stop. He just continues walking.

You're behind him and press harder to get something. A reaction. “Can you talk to me? Just say something.”

Nothing. He keeps walking, faster. Fucking asshole.

“Seriously? Are you gonna pretend I’m not here now?”

He stops. Suddenly, so you didn't expect that which caused you to nearly crash into his back.

And he stands there, still like a statue, shoulders square, like he’s deciding whether to say something or snap at you instead. His fists are clenched around the bag strap, knuckles white. Your guess? He's probably biting his cheek or his teeth grinding together.

“Don’t,” he mutters without turning around. His voice is low. Cold. “Not right now.”

And it’s not the volume that pisses you off. It’s the way he means it.

He moves again. Unlock the car. Throwing his bag into the trunk like it personally offended him. He doesn't even care if it will mess up his already fucked up of a racket. You hesitate at first but then get in too. Because fuck that, if he thinks you’re gonna leave him alone right now? Then he’s dumber than whoever just beat him in straight sets.

He drives like he’s chasing something. As if speeding tickets don’t exist. Like he doesn't care if he’ll get pulled up from that. Like he can escape from the part of his brain that keeps telling him he’s slipping, slipping, slipping.

You keep quiet. But you’re not going to let it go. She hates it when he's like this as much as she wants to understand him. Not when his jaw is that tight. Not when his hands look like they’re trying not to punch the steering wheel. Not when he looks like he wants to drive straight to a tree or building, just simply crash the car.

He pulls off somewhere random. Some lot. Trees. Nowhere. Not that you could recognize it, not really.

Puts the car in park. He's just quiet. You are quiet too, but you are thinking of the right time to poke at things because he doesn't even look at you. Doesn’t move.

And you say it anyway.

“Where are we even going?”

Nothing. Prick.

“Why won’t you talk to me? You can’t just...”

“You don’t get it,” he snaps, finally turning his head, but not all the way. You just look at him and your face softens. “Jesus, can you just not right now? Just shut up. Don't add, okay?”

His words hit like someone shoots your body. You freeze and your hand withdraws from hovering near his arm because you feel like you’re the one who crossed the line.

“I’m just trying to...” Your words didn't finish and you flinch while speaking. You're still not recovering from his words. He hears it. He regrets it, maybe. You won't just know that because he doesn’t say sorry.

You know what this is. You always do. You have known him for years already. The silence, the snapping, the way he can’t meet your eyes. It’s not about the match. Not the lost. (Okay, maybe it's about that)

But really? It's more about the weight. The pressure. The fact that Patrick Zweig used to mean something. Hell, he was too eager to make something. To be something. Just be. Now? Every time he loses, someone brings up him. And of course... you. You’re the only one who doesn’t want to see him like this.

“To what?” he snaps, finally looking at you. Just a flash, his jaw tight, something behind his eyes you couldn't figure out what he was feeling. “Fix it? Tell me it’s not that bad?”

You stare and almost glare at him, but you don't. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly,” he bites. “You don’t have to. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you clap back, louder than you mean to. “I’m trying here, Patrick. I showed up. Supported you. I followed you. I gave a shit.”

He laughs as if he's mocking the words that just came out of your mouth. “Yeah? Thought maybe you just missed the drama. Yeah... yeah, that's it, right? Thought maybe it reminded you of him.”

And there it is.

You blink. Something burns low in your chest. God. He's so petty even though you didn't do anything wrong.

“Really?” you say, voice more sharp now. “That’s what you’re gonna do? Mention him in this conversation because you can’t handle losing?” Classic.

“I handle it fine,” he snapped, jaw flexing. He takes a deep breath. Tick, tick, tick. He's surely trying to calm himself... to avoid saying something he'll regret.

“You stormed off the court like a toddler and now you’re picking a fight with me because Art exists?”

His knuckles tighten on the wheel. Almost turning white.

“Maybe go ask him how he handles losing,” Patrick mutters, too casual to be casual. But that's him, always casual.

“Oh wait. He wouldn’t know.”

You feel it like a slap. Hard and accurate.

He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t need to. Why would he when he's bitching around and he only has you right now?

“Is that what this is about?” you say, voice laced with disbelief. “Art?”

The way his jaw clenches and eyebrow twitch is the answer for you.

“God, Pat.”

“You know what?” you started but not really saying anything yet, eyes locked on his face. “I am here with you but you are making me wish I did go to his matches instead of yours,” you say, arms crossed. “At least I know that he didn’t throw a tantrum every time things didn’t go his way.”

Patrick laughs, it's sharp and humorless. “Yeah? At least he didn’t fuck you either. Guess he saw through the act.”

You let out a laugh, bitter and loud. “Says the guy who only texts when his career is getting shitty. What’s the matter, Pat? Need a consolation trophy in my pussy to feel like a winner? To feel something?”

His mouth almost hung low but he didn't do it. “Right, because you’re just so hard to get. Yeah? But you are the one who showed up tonight like you were waiting for a consolation prize.”

You lean in, smiling with your teeth, almost gritting them together. “And you drove me here like you couldn’t stand the thought of going home alone without a trophy in your hands.”

His head turns toward you, slow, eyes hot and burning. “You think I brought you because I needed you?”

“I think you brought me,” you whisper, inching closer, just enough, “because I’m the only one who still pretends you’re not living in his shadow. That you are not just... An old double partner.”

He doesn’t flinch. But he doesn't know if he wants to throw you out of the car or strangle you. Just leans in, close enough that his mouth almost brushes yours. His voice drops low.

“Then why are you still here?”

You hold your breath.

His mouth curls into a smirk.

“Guess you like being with the loser, huh?”

You don’t even think at this point. Your head snaps toward him so fast the seatbelt almost chokes you.

“What?”

Patrick’s still staring straight ahead, mouth all tight like he’s chewing gum. His jaw flexes. Shrugs, like it’s not a loaded question. “That’s me, right? The loser. Second best. Hell, I’m not even the second-best at all. Not golden boy. Not the one winning trophies.”

You lean in slowly. Real slow before you chuckle at his statement. God. So pathetic. This isn't the Patrick you know. “You wanna cry about it, Pat?”

His head whips toward you. And then his mouth is on yours. Angry. Kissing you, and shutting you up. Like he’s trying to punish you for being there. For not forgetting about him. For being the proof he lost again.

It’s all teeth. It's not gentle. Not like the kiss you share with your partners. He kisses you like he wants to take your oxygen. His tongue forces into your mouth, so desperate. You grab his shirt and yank him closer until your seat belt cuts across and touches his neck.

He doesn’t stop. He doesn't want to. Doesn’t even flinch. Just pulls it off you, one-handed, yanks the buckle so hard the metal clicks and flies behind you. Then he’s holding your waist, dragging you across the console needily and he made it easy like the gear shift doesn’t exist. You’re in his lap now, back hitting the steering wheel, hips pressed down against the bulge in his shorts. Hard. So fucking hard. You don't even know what made him horny. You can feel it twitch, and it just makes you grind lower, pressing your ass more against him.

He groans close to your cheek, low, ragged, filthy. Then, he said... “Open your mouth.”

You do. You open it while looking at him, waiting for what he'll do. And he fucking spits in it. Thick and hot, tongue still pushing against yours, licking back into your mouth like he’s trying to taste your mouth while it's open.

You moan and squirm. Louder than you should.

And then he bites your lip. Not playful, he's being mean. You feel the sting, the wet pain, and it just makes you need more. You shove your fingers into his hair, wrap your fingers around the soft curls before you yank it hard, and kiss him like you want to split his mouth open and eat him whole.

His hands are everywhere, gripping your ass like he’s trying to make it open, fingers digging in the fabric of your skirt, grinding you down over his cock. Make sure the clothes rub against each other. The friction is fucking obscene. Cotton and sweat and heat. You’re already soaked (not that he knows that… but does he?) and he hasn’t even gotten under your clothes.

He pulls back, breath wrecked, lips shiny and red. “Is that how he kissed you?” he pants before brushing his thumb on your lower lip. “Does Art make you moan like that?”

You laugh. Spiteful. Sarcastic. Taunting him. “Art never fucking kissed me.”

Patrick grins. “Good.” Then he sucks your tongue into his mouth so deep you choke on it as if it’s a form of cannibalism, spit leaking down your chin as he grabs your jaw and tilts your head just to go deeper.

You bite his upper lip back. He groans into your mouth.

One of his hands slips under your shirt, dragging rough palms up your stomach and just feeling your skin. He’s grabbing your tit through your bra as he owns it. Palming it. Groping it. Squeezing it. The other’s already down the back of your waistband, squeezing bare skin, dragging you down onto his cock like he’s gonna fuck you through the fabric.

“Keep grinding like that,” he breathes, forehead against yours, eyes closed like he’s stopping himself. “And I’m gonna come in my shorts like a fucking teenager.” Yeah. Well… he doesn’t like cumming before you. He likes cumming deep inside you.

You smile before you giggle. “Maybe that’s all losers are good for, huh?”

He scoffs like he’s gonna kill you and yanks your shirt down. He doesn’t even bother taking it off, just stretches the collar until it’s stretched, until your bra’s on full display, and then pulls that down too. Don’t even hesitate. So graphic. So obscene. Your tits spill out like he’s been thinking about this since you opened your mouth and asked if he’s okay. You don’t get time to gloat before his mouth is on you. He’s sucking around the nipple, biting it before licking the flesh circularly, and tugging at your nipple like it said something smart.

“Fuck, you’re such an asshole,” you gasp, nails in his hair, but you don’t push him off. You tilt your chest up instead, wanting him to have more access. You’re a liar like that.

He drags his teeth over your tit, bites down, such a mean asshole, then pulls back to breathe against your slick skin. “You’d know.”

His hand slips under your skirt like it’s nothing. His whole palm is hot and rough on your bare ass, dragging you down on his lap hard enough that your thighs burn against him. His cock’s already thick under you, pressed up against your thong, and he grinds you down like he’s punishing you with it. The only barriers are your skirt and shorts.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” he mutters, forehead against yours, breath ragged. “You were dying for it.”

“You’re the one who pulled over like a fucking maniac,” you snap, grinding down on him with no messily, no rhythm like you are playing with him. His hands jerk on your waist like he’s about to shove you off, but he doesn’t. “Middle of fucking nowhere, throwing your little post-match tantrum like a fucking kid. What the fuck did you think was gonna happen?”

His jaw ticks. You can feel it with how close you are. “You wouldn’t shut the hell up,” he stated, squeezing your thighs hard enough to bruise. “Nagging me like it will change anything.”

You laugh in his face, mean and loud. He’s a fucking loser. “Oh, I’m so sorry for asking how it feels to get your ass handed to you. Again.”

“You were brooding like a little bitch,” you add, voice all fake sympathy, lips pouting, dragging your nails down his shoulder. “Like you wanted me to crawl on top of you and fix it.”

He glares at you, nostrils flaring. “You climbed on top of me like you were desperate.”

“No. You put me in your lap,” you snap back, eyes narrow. “You let me sit here. Didn’t even hesitate, pathetic.”

“You kissed me,” he says as if it will offend you. It doesn’t. His hands flexing like he’s ready to throw you through the fucking windshield.

You lean in close, lips brushing his jaw just to mess with him. “You bit me first. Like a goddamn dog.”

His mouth crashes into yours before he speaks again, biting your lower lip, pulling until you gasp. “You moaned.”

“And you fucking whimpered,” you spat, licking the blood off your lip like it’s his fault. “Little bitch noises, right into my mouth. Like a fucking virgin.”

His eyes glare at you, furious, and you’re smug enough to let it rile him. “You came to a full stop on a goddamn dirt road,” you whisper against his cheek before grazing your teeth against it, “tell me again who started this.”

Because if he wants to pretend this wasn’t inevitable. You’ll remind him that every inch of you pressed up against him says otherwise.

“You’re fucking impossible,” he hisses, the heel of his hand pressing bruisingly into your lower back as he rolls your hips down back and forth, harder against the thick bulge in his shorts. “Think you’re so smart, huh? Mouthy little brat in my lap.”

You smile. “And yet you’re still letting me grind all over you. Who’s pathetic here?”

He lets out a breath that sounds more like a growl. “Bet if someone drove by right now, you’d keep going. Wouldn’t even stop. You’d ride me just to prove a point.”

The words crack through you like a paper cut. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, clutching the fabric of his shirt like it might save you. His mouth finds your neck, hot and wet and disgusting. He’s leaving teeth marks and spit all over your skin.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he mutters into the crook of your jaw, sucking the skin enough to make you gasp. “Put on a show. Pretend you’re not fucking soaking while you grind that needy little pussy on my cock like you’re starving.”

You whimper before you can stop yourself, and he laughs like he’s just won something.

He grins. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

And then his hand moves with certainty. Under your skirt. Thong pulled to the side before you felt two fingers shoved inside you in one fluid thrust, knuckles deep like he was proving a point. No warning. Just the thick press of his fingers curling slow and deliberate inside you while his palm grinds against your clit, pressing it hard so you can feel it. Your hips jerk, grinding against his palm, and take a deep breath. He watches your reaction like it’s gospel.

“Fuck,” you whimper, already breaking.

He chuckles low in his chest, he sounds so smug. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You clutch at his shoulders like you’re pulling yourself together, but end up grinding helplessly down on his hand as your thighs tremble around his thighs, but he stays exactly where he is, fingers buried inside the velvet and smooth part of you.

“Not so mouthy now,” he murmurs, thumb stroking lazy circles in your clit just to hear you gasp. “All that attitude, and now look at you. Fucked up. Just from this.”

You twist, trying to move, to chase friction, the pleasure, but he tightens his grip on your hip, stilling you the way he likes.

“Nuh-uh.” His voice drops lower, hot against your ear. “You want more? Say it.” Prick. Brat. Asshole.

You glare at him through wet lashes, mouth shaking, but he’s already thrusting his fingers again. In a slow, steady rhythm, you are sure he’s playing with you with the way he’s curling up and dragging out like he’s trying to fuck the truth out of you.

“Say who started this,” he demands, ordering it. Not up for a discussion, each word punctuated by a deliberate pump of his fingers. “Say it was you.”

You shake your head, back arching against the steering wheel despite yourself. “No. F-fuck. You started this.”

He pulls his hand back just enough to make you whine (fingers still inside but only the tip. His nails still hidden inside. That deep only), eyes glinting. “You sure? ‘Cause it’s your cunt squeezing my fingers like it’s been waiting all day. Like you couldn’t fucking wait to get wrecked.”

“God, Patrick,” you pant, hips twitching.

He sinks them back in, rougher this time, adding pressure with his palm grinding against you until you cry out. “Yeah, that’s it. Be honest. Tell me who made you this wet. Who you were thinking about while you ran that smart little mouth.”

You try to twist away from the words, but he doesn’t let you. He’s so nasty with his words it makes you shy. He presses in closer, crowding your space, fucking you deeper with just his fingers until your head tips back and your jaw falls open.

“You started it,” he breathes, his voice ragged, the lie tasting sweeter every time he says it. “You’re gonna say it was you.”

“I-” You can’t even form a sentence. Not when he’s doing this to you. He’s playing you. You can’t do anything except take it. Well, it’s not like you are not enjoying this. You are very much so. His rhythm is sloppy now, just… he’s just pulling, pushing, in, out, just messy, just the goal to make you cum, relentless, every thrust landing with intention.

“Say it,” he growls again. “Or I stop.”

“Me,” you gasp, finally breaking. “Fuck- it was me.”

He laughs, breathless. “Yeah. That sounds more like you.”

But then he pulls his fingers out, completely. You almost sob at the loss, hips stuttering, so fucking close you’re shaking.

And he just stares at you while he licks them clean, slow, and taunting, eyes locked on yours the entire time. Showing how slick his fingers are.

“You’re fucking evil,” you gasp, wrecked and frustrated.

He grins, mouth slick with your juices. “And you still want it.”

You didn’t say anything else but your hand jerks at his waistband, breath heavy, but he leans forward instead, reaches down, and yanks the lever by his seat, slamming the backrest flat in one rough motion. The whole chair jolts down with a loud, mechanical thud. You flinch.

“Back,” he mutters, eyes on you, voice low and impatient. “Get in the fucking back.”

You don’t argue. You’re too far gone for that. You climb between the seats, knees scraping the leather, your thighs slick and flushed, your skirt bunched so high it barely covers your ass as you crawl. And he’s already looking at it. You stumble into the narrow backseat and drop into it, panting, legs sprawled.

He follows immediately, bracing one hand on the center console to launch himself after you, the other grabbing at the seat as he moves. His knee knocks into yours as he lands behind you.

Then, without fully sitting down, he reaches forward again, grabs the driver seat back, yanks it upright, and slams it all the way forward toward the steering wheel to make space. The footwell clears. His weight follows fast.

You’re crammed into the back together now, the whole car hot and unsteady, breath clouding the windows. It's all fog at this point. You can feel his chest brushing your legs, his fingers already digging into your thighs like he doesn’t care who sees. Like he’s about to tear you apart.

“Fuck y-” The words barely leave your mouth. You feel him grab you by the back of your neck and shove you down between his legs like muscle memory. This is just how things go. Him deciding what he wants. Like he’s done it so many times in this shitty, beat-up car that it still remembers the shape of your knees.

You don’t even fight it. Just hit the floorboards with your palms and breathe through your nose, your skirt already riding up, the air thick with sweat and engine heat, and the slick reminder of every other time he’s used you like this. Desperate and mean and barely pulling the car over in time. You scoff and glare at him.

“You like being a brat?” he asks, voice low, hand wrapped around your jaw as he owns it. He tilts it and makes you look up at him. “Brats get fucking punished.”

Then he pulls down his shorts and lets them hang open. One shove of his fist and his cock is out. It’s hard, flushed, leaking at the tip like he’s already halfway gone. Your eyes locked at it before you feel him slap it against your mouth once, twice… and you can’t count.

“Open.”

You hesitate but you do. Tentative at first, licking the head, tasting salt. You look up at him. He groans, all breathless and low, hand twitching against your jaw. You wrap your fingers around the base and trace the thick underside, just to feel him jump in your grip. That cocky fucking twitch.

He braces one arm against the window, the other tangling in your hair. When you take him in, slow and steady, he gasps like you’ve got your mouth wrapped around his nerves.

“God. Just like that. Pretty little slut.” His voice cracks as you ease down more. Your hand wrapped around at the end. He watches you with his mouth parted, sweat gathering on his brow. Lights through the window hit him just right: fucked up, beautiful, and too far gone to be careful now.

“Fuck, so warm,” he mutters like a prayer. Both hands dig into your scalp, gripping hard, holding you steady as he starts to thrust, which makes you let your hand that’s wrapped around him.

He moves slowly at first. Testing how far you’ll take him. But you manage to do it. Then faster, deeper, his hips snapping into your face as you fight to keep your throat relaxed. Trying to swallow him. But you gag a little (which is expected because he’s big) and he groans, head dropping back against the backrest. Doesn’t stop. He’s just fucking your throat, the tip touching and entering the spongy part of your mouth. Doesn’t fucking slow down. He knows you like it like this.

Tears spill from the corners of your eyes as spit drips from your lips, pooling down your chin. It’s so unhinged. You’re a mess. He’s a mess. His pace goes brutal and filthy, just how it usually is. Each thrust dragging out a choked whimper, all “glrk, guhk, slrp” and spit as your throat clenches helplessly around him

“That’s it. Fucking take it. Look at you.” His voice is wrecked. His hand wrapped around her hair while the other was on her cheek, caressing it. “Can’t even talk back with my cock in your mouth.”

You hum around him just to make him lose it with the vibrations of your mouth and you feel his hips stutter.

He fucks your throat like it's muscle memory. Like it’s the only thing his cock knows how to do. Maybe it’s the only thing he’s good at. The fucking. His hand’s a vice in your hair, the back of your skull shoved tight to his hips while your nose mashes into the sweaty skin of his pelvis, and he’s already breathing like he’s on the edge.

Your throat spasms when he buries himself too deep, and the sound that rips out of you is wet and brutal. A full gag that bubbles thickly in your mouth. “Ghhhkk- glk, glk, hhggghk- fuck- shhlck-”

It’s sloppy. Filthy. The kind of noise, the sound you hear when you are drowning someone and they are seeking air. Thick strands of drool hang from your chin to your chest.

“That fucking sound,” he mutters, hips jerking. “You’re so wet it’s disgusting. Listen to that shit- like your throat’s begging to be used.”

You try to look up through your lashes. It’s just a flicker at first, blurry and half-lidded with tears threatening to spill. Your mouth’s stuffed, lips stretched wide and shiny like it has lipgloss, spit dripping down to your chin and you’re still trying to look pretty for him. Yeah, you do. Your eyelashes batting as if you’re making beautiful eyes at the moment. Still keeping eye contact, even as you gag wetly around him that echoes like porn.

His fingers tighten in your hair.

“Holy fuck- look at you,” he growls. “You know what you look like right now?”

You blink up at him, lashes stuck together from tears. Lips almost pout around his cock. He slows his thrusts just a bit, enough to watch his cock disappear into your mouth, glazed in spit, then drag back out with a thick, stringy schlump that stretches between your lips and his tip.

“You look like you want this. Like you need to be gagged on cock just to think straight.”

You make another choked sound, not even sure if it’s a moan or a gasp, and he laughs under his breath.

“Fuck, don’t stop looking at me. Keep those eyes on mine.”

And you do. Even when the tears spill. Even when spitting floods your mouth and slides down your chest. Even when the only thing you can hear is that lewd, slick sound of his cock pumping in and out of your throat and the ragged, needy sounds coming from his mouth, right above you.

You’ve been here before. More than you like. Well, maybe you’ve been doing it for two years already. Your knees digging into the floor of his shitty car, mouth ruined, pride nonexistent. You should’ve known he’d drag you back the second you opened that mouth of yours and pissed him off. He hates it. He has these tendencies to fuck his frustrations out on you when you are with him. He always fucks you like this when you test him.

“Does he make you get on your knees like this?” Patrick grits out, his voice sharp with jealousy, hand tightening as he rocks his hips forward again. He’s shoving you straight back onto his cock so hard your nose slams into him. It made you gagged. Almost vomit. “Fucking Art. Huh? Does he grab your hair and use your throat till your eyes are watering?”

You nod your head just to piss him off. And then… you gag again, hard. It hurts. Your throat closes up around him and it just makes him groan. Your tears are falling freely now, stinging hot down your cheeks. He watches every twitch of your face, every sputter, every clench of your lips as you try to breathe around the thick weight of him.

“Didn’t think so,” he pants, almost close to the pleasure. “Bet he couldn’t even handle it. Probably too fucking soft. Probably apologizes when he cums in your throat.”

Patrick spits the words out as they offend him. Like the idea of anyone else even trying to take your mouth like this makes him insane. It’s not been a thing between him and Art. But it’s somehow always like this. They have almost similar tastes.

He pulls out just far enough to let you suck in a gasp, and then he slams back in deep.

He doesn’t give you a second to think or breathe or flinch. Just keeps your face glued to his cock like it’s some kind of religious fucking ritual like he’s offering communion and your mouth is the altar. Like both of you are trying to repent from your sins. He’s got one hand twisted in your hair so tight that made your scalp almost screams, the other braced hard against the fogged window for leverage, and he’s fucking your throat like he means to leave bruises. Which is possible. He’s the cause of your delayed dental appointments. Like he wants to make sure no one else ever even tries to put their cock in that mouth without thinking of him first.

“You looked at him like you wanted it,” Patrick grits out, jaw clenched, voice a rasp scraped raw with jealousy. “Like you’d let him touch you. Let him see this.”

He thrusts forward with that. Hard and shoving himself so deep you choke on instinct, and you do. The tip of his cock punching the back of your throat, your nose smushed into the heat of his pelvis, drowning in the sweat and musk of him. You gag, and gag again, eyes watering instantly, but he holds you there. Fucking holds you there. Because, of course, he does. You’re gagging like your body’s rejecting it and he’s moaning like it’s the best goddamn thing he’s ever felt.

“Bet he wouldn’t even know what to do with you,” Patrick mutters, half to himself, half to the swirl of hate in his brain that’s driving every thrust. “Bet he’d fall apart before your mouth even opened.”

You whimper. It comes out strangled and wet, broken by how deep he is. Your throat’s fluttering, clenching, trying to accommodate him and failing, and it’s disgusting how good it must feel for him. Your mouth is a tight, twitching mess of spit and slick noises, strings of drool sliding down your chin and soaking your shirt. You’re on your knees in the backseat like you’re built for this. Like you never learned anything else.

And he’s fucking losing it.

You feel it. Every shudder in his thighs, every hitch in his breath, the way his cock jerks and twitches against your tongue like it’s already coming before he even says a word.

Your fingers pressed weakly at his thigh, tapping. Pleading for a second, for air, but he doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t even flinch. His grip on your hair just tightens, dragging you in closer until your nose touches his pelvis again.

“Fucking swallow,” he pants, voice shredded and shaking, and then he’s coming, spilling hot and sudden down your throat while you’re still choking on him, unable to breathe, spit and slick and cum all sliding into one unbearable mess.

He doesn’t let you pull back until he’s milked every last twitch of it until you’ve swallowed or drooled it all down your chin, and even then he stays in your mouth a second longer than he should. Just to feel your mouth get more hot and wet with his cum.

It’s hot and thick and there’s so fucking much of it, you don’t even have time to prep your throat. You choke on it, trying to breathe through your nose and failing, sputtering around the flood of it while he holds you down, and forces your face into him like he wants you drowned in him. You managed to swallow it slowly, and it still leaked out, smeared messily across your lips, and your chin.

When he finally let's go, you crumple back on your heels, dizzy and soaked, coughing around the taste of him. There’s spit and cum all over your mouth. On your cheeks. In your hair. You don’t even wipe it. Just blink up at him with your jaw slack and your throat raw, chest heaving like you’ve been fucking waterboarded.

Patrick stares. Still hard. Still panting. Not even pretending to be done.

He wipes your chin like it’s his fucking trophy, thumb dragging through spit and cum, and whatever else is glistening there like he’s about to frame it. You’re still kneeling on the backseat floor, mouth parted, lips shiny, his dick out and wet and heavy on his thigh like it’s not even close to being done.

“Get on your back,” he says, voice gone low and mean. “You think I’m letting you off with just that?”

You drag yourself up, sore knees creaking, brain fogged, makeup smudged to hell, tits still shoved up from where he yanked your shirt down. The bra’s hanging on for dear life, cups pushed under your boobs, straps sliding down your arms. You start crawling beside him, trying to lie back across the small seat like some desperate little porno angel, but when your hand tugs at your skirt, instinctively trying to pull it off, he stops you.

“Don’t even think about it,” he snaps. “Clothes stay on.”

And then he says it again, slower. Voice thick. “Clothes. Stay. On.”

He’s already hovering and grabbing for your back, unclasping your bra like it’s nothing, and your tits spill out now. Soft and flushed. He hasn't even touched it yet. Just stare at it. Patrick has always been a boob guy and he has no shame in staring at it. He always does, making sure that you know he’s looking. Watch the way they bounce a little as you shift, nipples hard from the cold, from the car’s shitty AC still running like a bitch, from the way you’re halfway naked but not really. It’s messy. It’s slutty. It’s perfect for him.

You start to lie back, just half. Not laying back. Almost sitting up, but not really. Vice versa. Just rest your back against the backrest and the door. Your chest falls open, and that’s when he just… freezes. His eyes flick from your face to your chest, as something clicks.

“Actually,” he mutters. “No.”

You pause, chest heaving, tits showing, skirt bunched, bra undone, and useless around your ribs.

“I want you to ride me,” he says, voice gone dark and almost annoyed, like he’s pissed he didn’t think of it sooner. “Get on top. Right fucking now.”

You blink. A beat. Then he grins.

“I wanna see those tits bounce while you fuck yourself on my cock.”

And that’s it. His shorts are already shoved much low, waistband tucked under his balls, dick still glossy from your mouth. He shifts back against the seat, spreading his legs wider, and watches you like he’s got all the time in the world.

You climb up to his lap with your skirt still hitched up, your panties soaked, and your tits hanging out, and you swear he groans the second you straddle him. He almost shoves his face between your cleavage. His hands grab your hips and you can feel the way his cock presses up against your soaked little thong, hot and twitchy and so ready.

You barely settle into his lap and he’s already got both hands under your skirt, thumbs hooking the thin band of your thong and yanking it to the side like it’s in his way. It’s so sticky and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t want it off. He continues holding it on the side as if it’s offensive that it’s even still there. But he doesn’t even take it off. Just pulls it, elastic digging into your thigh while his cock twitches under you, already rubbing against the mess you made of yourself.

He drags the tip through your slit like he’s lining up for a test drive, slow and deliberate, head sliding through your folds and parting you open like he’s opening a path just for his cock. He does it again. And again. His cock catches right at your entrance, then glides up through the slick until the head taps your clit. He rubs it there, tip keeps poking against your clit.

You’re breathing hard. Fucked out and needy and barely keeping your eyes open. He’s just letting your eyes close because he knows it’s a sign of pleasure. It’s a win for him to know you like it. He’s just watching. Watching the way your pussy splits around him, pussy lips swallowing his cock like it wants him inside but he won’t give it to you, yet. Just keeps sliding between them, and making a fucking mess of you. Your thighs are sticky, your cunt glossed up from how wet you are.

“Fuck,” he mutters, one hand holding your hip down, while the other is guiding his cock like he’s lining it up just to tease himself with it. “Look at that. You see this shit?”

And you do. You bite your lip. You glance down, dizzy, and there it is. His dick slides between your pussy lips like he’s trying to wedge himself inside but keeps pulling back last second, tip kissing your clit with every movement, your whole cunt flexing like it’s starving for it. He watches it like he’s hypnotized. Watches it sandwich between you, thick and shiny.

He’s not pretending anymore. Not even close. This isn’t about you, hasn’t been from the second he dragged you into the backseat with his tournament shirt still clinging to his sweaty body and his shorts shoved low, cock hard and leaking, twitching like it’s got a mind of its own. You’re just something warm and wet for him to rut against. Something to sink into. Something to fuck himself stupid with and forget the match he lost.

You’re straddling him like a perfect little pillow princess. Which you are most of the time. Your thong shoved to the side, skirt yanked down to your waist, tits bouncing right in his face, and he’s using you. Just treating you as something he can use to get off. One hand locked around your hip to keep you flush to his lap, the other gripping the base of his cock like he might fall apart if he lets go. He’s sliding it through your soaked folds, rutting between them like your pussy’s pocket just made to jerk him off. He’s doing it like he’s pillow-humping like what girls do. His tip catches your clit with every slow, deliberate thrust, painting you slick and pulsing.

“Jesus- fuck,” he groans, tilting his head back before leaning forward again like he has to look. Can’t help but look. It’s just satisfying to watch. “You feel that? That’s how desperate I am. Lost one fuckin’ match and now I’m using your sloppy cunt to jerk myself off like a goddamn perv.”

Then he spits on you. Don't warn you. Just pull back slightly and let a thick glob of spit fall right onto your cunt. It lands partially on your thong. Already soaked and sticking and the rest drips right onto your folds, sliding down and mixing with the mess you’re leaking all over him. It makes you gush more and you help to rut your hips for a few times. Just a few times.

“Fuck,” he hisses, rubbing his cockhead through the spit and slicked mess, pressing hard into your clit until your thighs twitch. “You see that? Shit’s everywhere. Look at your pussy.”

He does it again. Another string of spit-dropping. This one lands right on your clit and he laughs, mean and breathless, before smearing it in with the fat head of his cock like he’s painting with your body. Your pussy pulsing with every brush of his cockhead to brush his spit on your pussy.

“Could make myself cum just like this,” he mutters. Which is true. He could just watch it. Fuck it. Just rub and ruts his dick and he will squirm and cums on it. But right now he’s just fucking through your folds with lazy, greedy thrusts. “Don’t even have to put it in. Just need your pussy messy and open and dripping so I can hump it like a loser with a cumrag. Just like this. Just like- fuck- this.”

He grips your waist tighter, rutting harder, dirtier. Whole cock sliding between your lips, swollen and wet, clit getting bumped every time like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

Your thighs are shaking. You’re dizzy from how fucking gross it is. From how much he’s getting off on it. His breath is ragged, sweat slicking his chest, whole body tensed like he’s right there. Right on the edge.

And then he takes a deep breath.

He carries you up before he sinks you like he’s slotting a piece into place.

No warning. Just one drag of your cunt over the flushed head of his cock, and he’s inside. All the way. Buried. Stretched. Stuffed. The kind of full that should be illegal. You feel so stretched around his cock. You won’t lie and say it doesn’t because he has a big cock. He’s the biggest you had. It always made you crawl back to him.

Your gasp gets swallowed by the groan he lets out, head thrown back like it’s killing him not to move. His hands flex hard around your hips, holding you there like he’s scared to lift you because he might cum right on the spot.

He doesn’t move. Just stares at your tits bouncing, your shirt shoved down, bra mangled, your skirt hiked up, his spit dripping down your cunt like you’re the best mistake he’s ever made.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, voice gone distant and high. “You feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

You do. God, you do. You feel it everywhere. In your gut. Like he’s in you and through you. Like he’s marking you. Like you’ll never be the same again.

Then he grips your waist and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Like he needs you higher. Like he can’t take one more second of this not being enough. Your thighs fumble for balance, hands sliding over his shoulders, and you look at him. Your slick cunt hovering right above his cock again, and he’s looking up at you like you’re his favorite brand of drug and he’s about to OD.

“Gonna fuckin’ use you,” he mutters, low and reverent like it’s a promise or a prayer. “Like you’re my fleshlight. My sloppy little fucktoy. That's what you want, baby? Want me to wreck you after losing like a pathetic fuck?”

And then he sinks you again.

Just one filthy, desperate snap of his hips upward as he drags you down, slow like he wants to feel every inch of your walls give, how every clench, twitch, squeeze, and flutter. Like he wants to memorize it as if he never had been inside of your pussy before.

You choke on a gasp. Your thighs tremble. He moans. His head tipped back, throat showing like he’s high off it. Like he’s smoking weed.

“Jesus- fuck, look at that,” he breathes, keeping you halfway down, cock buried just enough to stretch you but not enough to satisfy. “Tight as fuck. Wet like you need this. Like you wanted me to lose so I’d fuck you stupid.”

He looks down at where you’re joined, where your cunt’s stretched around the thick of him, already dripping. Already fluttering. Then he groans again, and spits. Exactly where you’re connected. He watches it hit your folds and smear between the mess of slick precum and desperation.

“You see that? You’re dripping down my balls and you’re not even on. Just gonna keep you here, warm and stupid and drooling around me.”

You make a sound, somewhere between a whimper and begging, but he ignores it. Lifts you just an inch. Then slams you down the rest of the way. He’s ball deep of you.

Your cunt swallows him. Keeping him deeper. Doesn’t want to let him go. Your thighs twitch. Your back arches and your mouth opens and hangs. He groans, grinding up like he wants to stay there, buried to the hilt, cock pulsing like he’s right on the edge.

“Fuck. Fuck, yeah. That’s it. Gonna jerk off with your body ‘til I can’t see straight.”

He grabs your tits. Greedy, rough, thumbing your spit-glossed nipples and thrusts again. Sharp and hard while his thumb continues to move and trace the soft buds against him. Controlled only by the need to ruin you.

“You hear that?” he pants. “That wet squelch? That’s your pussy. That’s you making noise for me, baby. You fuckin’ love being used.”

His hips stutter. Getting off on how wet you sound, so he thrusts again. Then again. And again. Every drag of his cock against your walls knocked something loose in your brain. Your legs are shaking, your eyes unfocused, every nerve lit up and screaming for more.

You try to help. Try to move. With just one bounce, your thighs twitch like they’re gonna carry you, and you lift an inch off him like your body still thinks it has a say in this.

But he snaps.

“Uh-uh,” he bites, hands locking around your hips, dragging you back down with a slap on your ass. “No. I’m doing it. I’m putting you on my cock like a sleeve.”

You moan, loud, helpless, and filthy, and your pussy flutters around him like it’s begging for punishment. He feels it. Groans like it hit his spine.

“Ohhh. You like that, huh?” he stated with a smirk. “Gettin’ used like a fucktoy in your little skirt?”

Another groan. He pulls your hips down and fucks up even harder.

“Pussy like this,” he mutters, “was made to get ruined. To sit on dick and not think too hard. Just bounce like a good little toy.”

You try to breathe. Try to speak. You get out something like “Can’t- ” but he cuts you off.

“Yes, you can. You’re fucking perfect. You’re takin’ me like you want it to break you.”

Then he slaps your ass, loud, sharp, before grabbing it like he owns it. He grips it, opening your ass cheeks a little too. He grinds your ass backward and forward before he continues to thrust up to your pussy.

“You know what you are right now?” he pants. “You’re a fucking cumrag with a heartbeat. And I’m not gonna stop ‘til I fill you up so good it leaks down your thighs.”

Your cunt flutters again. It made your cunt beat. Your body is betraying you completely.

“Tell me you like it,” he growls his mouth by your ear, hips jackhammering now. “Tell me you like being my fuckdoll.”

You try. You do. But all you manage is a choked-out moan, trembling against him, gasping like he’s taking your voice too.

“Fucking perv,” you whimper, shaking.

He grins. Big and mean and hungry.

“Uh-huh. Keep callin’ me that while I ruin you.”

Then he tilts his head and spits again, right where your bodies meet. Watch it mix with the rest of your slick like it’s a masterpiece he made with his cock.

“You better milk me dry,” he pants. “I wanna be leaking out of you ‘til you can’t walk.”

He doesn’t even let you move anymore after the little stunt you pulled.

Just grabs your waist, hooks his fingers under your thigh, lifts you, and starts fucking you. Using you like he’d use his hand like your pussy’s just a better, wetter hole to jerk off into.

“Fuck,” he grits out, dragging you down onto him again. “You’re gonna let me come like this? Just stuffed full of my cock, not even touching yourself?”

You whimper. Helpless from the way he’s handling you, shoving you down onto his lap again and again. You could pull back. Could stop. But you don’t. Not when he’s fucking you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. Not when his dick feels so good. Maybe that’s such a slut behavior, but he’s a good fuck. It’s a rare breed.

“Jesus,” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulder. “You’re using me like a fleshlight, Patrick-”

He just laughs. It sounds low and bitter and lets you bounce once on your own before grabbing your hips again and slamming you back down. “Don’t flatter yourself. Fleshlight doesn’t talk back.”

Your tits are already out. The shirt is shoved down, bra unclasped, and caught somewhere under the fabric, so he doesn’t bother pretending anymore. Just grabs one in his hand and squeezes like it’s a stress ball, fingers digging into the soft flesh. His thumb circles your nipple once, then pinches it hard. Enjoying how sensitive it is.

You cry out, legs shaking.

“What? You didn’t think I’d play with these too?” he pants, leaning forward to mouth at the same one he just abused. “What are they here for, then?”

He sucks your nipple deep into his mouth. He sucks on it like he’s searching for milk. As if you’re his mommy. His tongue is wet and hot and insistent while his other hand slaps the opposite tit, not hard enough to bruise, but loud enough to make you jolt.

“You’re sick,” you breathe, half-moan, half-accusation.

He pulls back just to sneer, lips wet with spit. “You say that like your pussy’s not gripping me.”

Then he yanks your skirt all the way up and groans, audibly, when he sees it. How your slick cunt’s dragging up and down his cock, swallowing him in and leaking all over him. The side of his dick’s still brushing your thong, pulled to the side but useless, just clinging to him, soaked and riding the length every time he thrusts up.

“Fuck. Fuck, look at that,” he pants, shifting under you so he can shove you down harder. “That’s what you needed, huh? Skirt up, panties twisted, cock so deep you’re gonna feel it tomorrow.”

You shudder, half-ruined already, and let him use you. Let him take it out on you.

“What?” you manage, voice hoarse. “Worried I’d let Art do this to me?”

He snaps.

The next thrust knocks the breath out of you.

“Don’t,” he growls, grabbing both tits in his hands and dragging you forward, squeezing like he wants to bruise them. “Don’t say his name while I’m inside you. Not when your fucking cunt’s this wet for me.”

You smile, barely, just enough to piss him off.

“H-hit a nerve?”

He slaps your tit again, then grabs the same one and pulls your nipple between his fingers, stretching it until you gasp.

“Call me a sick fuck again,” he pants. “C’mon. I know you want to.”

“You are,” you choke, even as you grind down against him. “You’re a fucking freak, Patrick. You don’t even care if I come- you’re just jerking off inside me like some sick fuck,”

“Damn right, I am.”

He groans. He leans his head back and watches the way your pussy sucks him in, dripping around him and grinding against the edge of your thong like it’s part of the kink. He can’t stop touching you. His hands on your tits, your hips, your ass. One hand spreads you open so he can watch the mess he’s making.

“You don’t need to come,” he mutters, voice almost gone. “You just need to stay still and take it. That’s all I want.”

And he means it.

His cock is buried in your cunt like he’s trying to hollow you out and leave himself there.

Like he’s trying to win something.

Or prove that someone else never could.

Then slowly, obsessively, he spreads your folds apart with two fingers. Index and middle in a neat little V, right above where his cock’s already plunging into you, again and again and again. “Your pussy is just screaming to get bred,” he stated.

He’s not trying to open you more, you’re already stretched, already taking him, but he does it anyway. Just so he can watch. Like it’s some fantasy he has discovered from porn he watched. Or something.

Watch your clit pulse and twitch with every thrust. Watch how it swells, flushed, spit-slick, needy, even though he said you’re not allowed to come.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Look at her.”

His voice is cracked and too low, like he’s speaking directly to your cunt now instead of you. His fingers hold your lips apart like it’s instinct, just to keep the view unobstructed.

“You see that?” he pants, more to himself. “She’s beating. Fuck- every time I move.”

You gasp, half choked because it’s true. Your clit’s twitching like it has its pulse, every muscle in your lower body seizing up around the rhythm of his cock. You can feel the way it twitches too. Clear sign you are so horny. You can feel the friction of his skin brushing past it again and again, swollen and slippery, overstimulated and raw.

And then he says it.

“I should film this.”

Your eyes snap wide. Heart beating fast. You look at him as if he betrayed you. But somehow you are turned on. But his gaze stays down, trained between your thighs like he’s hypnotized.

“I won’t,” he adds, reassuring you. “But fuck, I should. Just to remember how you look right now. All red and messy and bouncing on my cock like this.”

His thrusts pick up again like the thought alone turned him on more.

“Bet Art’s never seen you like this.”

That name cuts sharp. You don't know if he's just saying his name is making him get off it or what. You breathe in too fast, chest jolting because of course he brings that up now, when you’re weak and wrecked and letting him drag your panties to the side just to fuck you through a skirt like it’s nothing.

But all he does is smile.

He keeps holding you open. Keep watching.

Keeps using you like he wants to memorize the exact sound you make when your clit twitches under his spit, and your walls flutter around him like they’re trying to keep him in forever.

Your eyes flutter, lashes wet from tears, mouth parted like you want to say something, but can't. Oh God, you want to say something sharp, maybe mean, but all that comes out is a wrecked little sound. Your legs twitch around his hips, hips shuddering every time his cock drags past your clit again.

And when he says it? The “I should film this,” it you almost flinch.

“You’re disgusting,” you gasp, voice half-broken, half-breathless. “Actually fucking sick.”

He just grins, fingers holding your folds apart, still watching like he’s trying to memorize every twitch.

“You love it,” he says simply. “Don’t lie.”

You shake your head, barely, but your cunt clenches, tight and involuntary, around the length of him still pumping in and out. It just feels so good. So good. The way your pussy reacts to him says otherwise.

His thumb smears spit against your clit again, rough and greedy. Not to tease. Not to make you come. Just to feel the way it jumps beneath him. Just want to watch the reaction of it to his spit.

“You’re twitching like a whore,” he mutters. “Like she’s the one begging me to record it.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you hiss, but your voice is a mess now, slurred with heat and wet and some fucked up part of you that likes being seen this way. Used this way. He's the only one who can do that to you. He's the only man you let do this to you.

Patrick groans, rolling his hips up harder, dragging the fabric of your thong against the base of his cock again just to feel it grind. Just to add pleasure you are giving to him. Just to make it better for him.

“You’d let me do it, wouldn’t you?” he whispers, nose brushing your cheek. “Let me send him a clip. Just a flash. Just enough to see how sweet you look when you’re getting fucked like a toy. Or maybe a voice record.”

Your body jerks, from the thrust, from the filth, from the idea of it, and you try to shake your head, but it’s weak. Feeble. Like your brain’s just steam now. He's putting this idea into your mind that you won't even consider before. Because making a film or video of it? It's just so porn behavior.

He smiles.

“Oh, you would,” he breathes, rutting up slow, deep, his cock dragging filthy inside you. “I could pull out right now, zoom in on that twitchy little hole all red and sloppy and gaping, and you’d let me send it.”

“N-No,” you whisper, but your hips twitch forward again, and your pussy clenches like it’s protesting the lie. You are clenching him hard just to punish him a little.

He groans, laughs, even. He lets go of your throat just to slap your tit again, harder, rougher, before palming it like he owns the weight of it. You always like the way he gropes you. So filthy. It's like he owns you. That you're just some toy for him.

“Say it,” he pants. “Tell me you’d let me. Tell me you’d let me show him what a real fuck looks like.”

You shake, nails digging into his shoulders, jaw trembling. You are refusing to say it because it feels so humiliating.

“Fuck… Pat, that’s-”

“Say it.”

Your voice breaks. Come out breathless and shame is nowhere to be found.

“I’d let you,” you whisper. “I’d let you show him how my pussy opens for you.”

He groans, so deep it sounds like pain.

“Fuck- fuck.”

He spreads your slit again with his fingers, holding your folds open like he’s staging a show. Just for him. His cock glistens, soaked, the side still brushing against your thong where it’s bunched and useless.

“You see that?” he rasps, voice shredded. “She’s trained. This slutty little hole’s learned to open up just for me.”

You can’t even talk anymore. You just gasp and jolt and soft, choked sounds as his cock ruts in deep and slow and mean. He's playing with you, teasing you knowing that you are so close.

“I don’t even have to prep you anymore,” he grits, rocking up harder now, watching your clit twitch like it’s got a heartbeat. (Well maybe it has) “Just shove it in and you take it. Like you were made for this.”

You moan. Wrecked, desperate, and he smiles, pulling out just enough to watch your cunt pulse around nothing. It clenches so quick at the emptiness and you almost protest as you look at him with disbelief.

“Could take a still of this,” he mutters, thumb swiping over your clit again. “Send it with a voice note. Just you moaning his name while I stretch you open.”

Your body jolts.

“Bet he’d cry,” Pat laughs, breathless and cruel. “Bet he’d nut in his hand and hate himself for it.”

“Pat- fuck-f-fuck,” you choke, shaking.

He kisses your throat. Peppering your neck with kisses and licking it. Before he drags his cock back in, all the way, til his hips slap your ass and your yelps.

“Say it again,” he growls. “Tell me what your pussy does when it sees me.”

“It- it opens,” you sob. “It opens up for you. O-only you.”

“Yeah, it does,” he hisses, rutting harder making sure he thrust in until it touches your ass. “Because I want it to be only mine. Not his. Never his.”

And he slaps your tit again, then your ass, driving his cock so deep it feels like he’s trying to rearrange you from the inside.

You feel so close.

The sound of slick skin. Of spit and ruin. Of a girl whose body was already chosen for her.

“I’d let you,” you whisper. “I’d let you show him how my pussy opens for you.”

Pat groans, loud and broken like the words physically hit him. It's something he doesn't know that will turn him on. Imagine: him showing how he fucks you to Art and the three of you are friends. Well. Kinda. But there's tension between the three of you. The only explored is what's between you and Patrick.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hips stuttering up into you. “Fuck- you don’t even know what that does to me.”

He slams in deep, balls-deep, mean, messy. He lets go of your tit just to grab your ass and spread you wider like he’s imagining it now. Like he’s seeing it.

“What if we fucked you together,” he pants. “Both of us… at once. His cock right next to mine, stretching this pussy wide open.” Fuck and he's talking about double penetration right now. Sick. Sick. Sick.

You whimper, cunt twitching violently around him. You look up at him as if you are begging him to do it.

“You’d let us ruin you, huh?” he growls, breath hot in your ear. “Let us fight over this hole. See who can split you deeper.”

You can barely breathe, let alone speak, your body trembling as his fantasy hits too close to the truth you don’t want to admit. Because it's always been like this. You think you might like both of them.

He laughs. Low, filthy.

He grins, sharp, dark, sick with your moans spilling into his mouth like confessions.

“You’d thank us, wouldn’t you?” he breathes, fucking up into you harder. Deeper. Thrusting as if he's proving some point. “On your knees, cock in your mouth, pussy drooling around mine- saying please like you need it.”

You let out a breathy, mocking laugh, even as your hips stutter from the force of him. You shake your head like you are telling him he's unbelievable.

“Wouldn’t even need to ask,” you pant, teeth bared. “Both of you will make me take it, right? Stretch me out like I’m just some hole to share.”

He groans. His thrusts falter for a beat like he didn’t expect you to say it back, but then he snarls, grabbing your hips and dragging you down onto him.

“Yeah,” he growls. “You want it. You wanna be fucked so full you can’t move. Wanna get pinned down and passed around like a little shared slut.”

You dig your nails into his shoulders, voice syrup-slick and mean.

“You think he’d moan louder than you?” you whisper, taunting him. “Think he’d last longer while I cry on your cocks?”

His hand snaps down to your thighs, spreading you wider. He watches his cock disappear inside you like he’s hypnotized. He flicks his thumb over your clit and rubs it.

“Look at that,” he hisses. “You’re fucking soaked. All it took was the thought of us using you together.”

You smirk, but it falters, just a bit.

“D-don’t stop,” you whisper, breath shaking. “Say it. Say how you’d split me open.” She's saying those words for encouragement. For him to tell her his sick fantasies.

And he does.

“Both of us,” he pants, his thrusts slowing. “Stretching this tight little hole till you can’t even close your legs. You wouldn’t be able to think.” Yeah. It sounds like something he'll do.

Your head drops against his neck. “Fuck- fuck. I’d feel everything,” you whisper. “Feel both of you inside, pushing up so deep I forget who’s who.” The thought makes you gush more. Imagine being so cock drunk that you can't remember who are the cock thrusting in or pulling back since they're working in rhythm.

He lets out a broken sound, almost feral.

“You like that?” he hisses. “Like getting filled till you’re leaking down your thighs? Filmed. Shared. Fucked till you can’t talk.”

You shudder.

“I’d… I’d let you,” you stammer, losing composure. You hold tightly against his shoulders and you take a deep breath and clench around him. “Let you send it to him. Let you ruin me together.”

He spits down, hot and wet, right onto your clit, then rubs it with fast, filthy circles. He looks at you as he does this like he doesn't need to look down to know he's touching it directly. He just knows. Like he already memorizes it.

“Gonna cum for me?” he says. “Gonna cum just thinking about two cocks splitting your pussy wide open?”

You try to hold it, jaw locked, but the words pour out of you: “Yes,” you cry. “Fuck- yes, I’m gonna- gonna cum, I’m gonna- ”

And it hits you like a brick wall, hard, wet. Your legs lock up around his waist, hips stuttering helplessly, as your body clenches tight around him.

“Pat- ” you gasp, high and wrecked. “Fuck, fuck, I’m cumming-”

“Fuck- that’s it,” he snarls, still grinding into you. Fucking you through it. “Cum on it. Squeeze me. Show me what this pussy does when it gets talked down to.”

You sob through it, whole body shaking, cunt pulsing around him, slick gushing messily down your thighs.

“God,” you whimper, dazed. “You’re so- fucking sick-”

“Yeah?” he pants, nuzzling your cheek, fingers still teasing your overstimulated clit. “And you’re fucking perfect like this.”

He doesn’t pull out right away.

Instead, with a hand still firm around your waist and the other sliding down to your thigh, he lifts you- just barely. Enough to feel the slow, obscene drag of his softening cock inside your fucked out cunt. Enough to watch your folds stretch and cling as he draws back.

Then he lowers you again, slow like he’s trying to sink you into him all over again.

You shiver, hips twitching from oversensitivity, voice caught in your throat as he does it again.

Up. Down. His eyes locked between your bodies the whole time.

“That’s it,” he mutters, almost to himself. “Look at that.”

And fuck- he’s right to look.

You’re leaking around him, thick and hot. The creamy ring near the base of his cock grows messier with every slow pump of your hips, your slick mixing with his cum and sliding down your thighs in fat, ruined drops.

He does it again. And again.

Just uses your weight like a toy in his hands, dragging you over his cock, letting your hole suck and squeeze him even though he’s already softening, already emptied inside you.

“Still so warm,” he murmurs. “Still fucking twitching. Can’t even hold it in.”

You whimper, dazed and overstimulated.

“Pat,” you breathe, not even sure what you’re asking. “Too much-”

“Just one more,” he says, lifting you again to watch his cum spill out in slow, gooey trails. “Let me see what I did to you.”

And then he moans, quiet, low, like the sight alone is enough to make him hard all over again.

Then, he slows. Pauses. And without warning, pulls out all the way.

You cry out, hips jolting from the sudden emptiness, but he’s not done admiring. Not yet.

He holds you open, one hand spreading your puffy folds, the other guiding your body back until your legs fall wider, and watches. Watch as their shared cum spills out of your hole in slow, glossy drips. Down your slit. Over your ruined panties. Sliding down the backs of your thighs until it starts to cool.

Patrick groans, eyes half-lidded, lips swollen and wet. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You’re still dazed, panting. Soaked. But you manage to breathe out a wrecked laugh. “You proud of yourself?”

He leans in, nose brushing your cheek, that familiar filth curling back into his tone. “Maybe next time,” he whispers, voice low and gleaming, “we really need to try it. Me and Art. Two cocks. One perfect little hole.”

You shiver. Your pussy clenches.

And all you can do is smile, drunk on him, on this, on the sick little fantasies he’s never gonna stop pulling out of you, and whisper back:

“… you are going to kill him.”

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓© 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the sunrise

buttercup, chapter fifteen

a/n: this chapter may not be the longest, but the ending is definitely one of the cutest. (also omg, chapter 15 posted on the 15th!! that wasn’t even on purpose but i am living)

summary: and though you were terrified each time you watched him walk out that door, scared as you waited, petrified that he wouldn’t make his way back to you, somehow you found a way through it, as each time he’d return, relatively unscathed, the fear would melt away from his mere presence and the knowledge that he was one night closer to untangling himself from the rageful obsession he’d become possessed by.  

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, smut, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, hurt comfort, dancing, kissing, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, impact play, handjob, oral, 69 (but like in a slutty domestic way, you know?)

word count: 1200

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Any moment that Matthew wasn’t out there, trying to put a stop to the entire Giordano crime family, he was right at your side.

You hadn’t strayed from his apartment yet, only venturing out of the cocoon to wander across the hall and into your own home, though only whenever you ran out of clean clothing.

But in the many hours that he wasn’t there, when he was doing the impossible and trying to make each and every member of that gang pay for their crimes, he still made sure that you weren’t alone, partly just to make himself feel more safe knowing that there was someone else he trusted close to you whenever it couldn’t be himself. Some days it was one of your uncles who swung by and kept you company, while other times it was Foggy or Karen.

Matt didn’t share too many details with you about the progress he made each day that he put on his mask, but even so, you knew, you could tell whenever he’d thrown one more mobster behind bars, as he gradually began to thaw and relax again.

And though you were terrified each time you watched him walk out that door, scared as you waited, petrified that he wouldn’t make his way back to you, somehow you found a way through it, as each time he’d return, relatively unscathed, the fear would melt away from his mere presence and the knowledge that he was one night closer to untangling himself from the rageful obsession he’d become possessed by.  

When it came to intimacy and the obvious flare-ups that occurred after what you’d been through, you became so frustrated and couldn’t help but beat yourself up, as all that you yearned to do whenever Matthew would return home was to hold him tight and never let go. But you couldn’t do that, as much as you wanted to, your body wouldn’t let you without making you feel like you were drowning. It wasn’t really until he had finally caught them all and everything could return to normal that your body ultimately began to unravel, making you cry with joy as things gradually returned to you.

Both Howard and Walter insisted that you were in no rush to return to work, ushering you to take as much time as you needed to get back on your feet. Though when you finally did, on your first day back, Matthew tagged along as a gentle gesture to try and help make the bakery feel like a safe place once again. The shift was the shortest you’d ever worked, only two hours long, but even so, Matt stayed by your side the entire time, doing whatever he could to make you comfortable once more and stop it from being the scene of the crime. And by the end of the shift, a smile did manage to return to your lips as your uncle turned up the music ever buzzing in the kitchen, and when Walter twirled you around like a ballerina, a giggle slipping from you as he spun you across the workspace, Matthew caught your spinning form only for him to dance with you a bit himself, catching you of guard as he gently swayed with you among the baked goods.

“O-oh, fuck, do that again, please…” you melted as Matt briefly sucked down on your clit in a way that made your whole body quiver atop of his own. Your mouth swiftly faded from his cock as you struggled to even keep your fingers enveloped around the throbbing girth. And as he promptly repeated the action, drawing your puffy pearl past his lips as if it was a hard candy, your eyes swiftly rolled in your skull as you stopped being able to fight the high that threatened to explode, “yes, just like that, holy fucking shit!”

His hands were wide on either side of your bottom, offering you playful smacks as he kept you down against his face, occasionally tilting your hips and greedily grinding your pussy down against his tongue, till he had you tumbling over the edge. Moans seeped out of you as your face dropped to his hip and your drool smeared against his skin.

The rising sun that brightened the warm sky outside cast rays across the apartment, bathing you both in a golden glow as your molten frame limply melted further down against Matt’s.

Though as he then soon shifted you gently down just a tad for your pussy to leak against his chest as he caught his breath, you gradually began to come back to life. Soon, you found the strength to shift the weak grasp you still had around his dick and offer him a feeble stroke, before you then slowly inched back in, though didn’t have it in you yet to lift your head back up before you planted a messy peck to the base of his hardness.

But when you soon propped yourself up enough to take him back into the warmth of your mouth, a moan rumbled in Matthew’s chest, “oh, that’s it,” his broad palms kept up their gentle pattern as they caressed up and down your goosebump-ridden thighs that still straddled his torso, “good fucking girl, oh…” as your tongue swirled around the bulbous tip, your fist twisted along the rest of his length, “fuck, I love you…”

It didn’t take much longer before you were swallowing down his hot load and smiling hazily as you both collectively caught your breaths before he guided your boneless frame back around for his lips to catch your own in a kiss.

And as you layed your head down on the pillow beside him, his burly arm draped over you and his eyes fluttered closed, your own gaze flickered over his features as you studied his face in the early morning light.

“…hey, Matt?” you eventually murmured in a hesitant tone as you watched his chest expand in slow and serene breaths, “…would you freak out if I said that I really wanna move in here?” your stomach began to flutter as his eyes promptly blinked back open, “I mean, we just basically already live together, so it’s really not as dramatic of a step as it otherwise could be,” you tried to minimise the notable change, out of fear that the thought alone would spook him. But to your surprise, the next thing you knew, genuine laughter began to billow out of the man lying beside you, only causing your worry to grow as you tried to decipher his unexpected reaction, “you hate it, don’t you? Oh shit, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, just forget–”

“Sweetheart,” Matt swiftly cut you off, “no, I don’t,” he tried to contain his chuckling and tamp it back down as he swept one of his palms up your side, “I don’t hate it.”

Eyes growing wide, you blinked back at him, “you don’t?”

“No, I really don’t,” he grinned and softly shook his head against the pillow, “because, to be honest,” his hand came down to catch your own as he then uttered, “I was about to ask you the exact same thing.”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[dulceamore]

love hangover

pairings oldman!joel miller x sunshine!reader

summary you talking to joel’s dick like it’s a human being and calling it ‘princess sofia’ catching him off guard. “does princess sofia wanna come out and play?”

tags grumpy x sunshine, minors dni cuteness overload. established relationship, unspecified age gap, jackson era. drunk reader, joel becoming confused as fuck, explicit language, dirty talking. joel calling you sugar, baby, & sweetheart.

masterlist

joel fumbled with his keys at the door, trying to keep his balance while holding you up. you were leaning against him like a sleepy sloth. the party that tommy had sponsored had been wild.

joel hadn’t even had more than one beer, but you? well, you had lost count somewhere between the fourth shot. the world was pleasantly blurry and the ground beneath your feet shifting when you least expected it.

joel sighed, opened the lights, and kicked the door shut behind him, amusement lining his words as he muttered something about your inability to pace yourself, but his grip was unwavering.

joel caught you elbow just before you walked directly into a coat rack.

“easy there,” he said with a chuckle. “that rack ain’t done anything wrong to you, sweetheart,”

sensing your unsteady sway, without hesitation, swept you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style. the sudden lift made your stomach flip in surprise, but his grip was steady, firm, effortless.

“you alright, darlin'?”

“i feel like i’m on those things that goes round and round on a horse? a merry-go-round, yeah, that one, ”

“you’re hopeless,” he murmured. you barely had the energy to protest, only managing a content sigh as you pressed closer against his chest. he smelled like fresh laundry and the lingering traces of cologne.

with you in his arms, he moved through the dimly lit livingroom, lowering you carefully onto the couch. the moment your head hit the armrest, a satisfied hum escaped your lips.

joel lingered for a moment, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch feather-light.

“stay put,” he said but you seem to be in a different planet.

“i love you,”

“i love you too.” joel smiled, kneeling to unlace your boots.

with a tired sigh, joel finally let himself sink onto the couch beside you. the cushions shifted under his weight, his arm naturally draping over the backrest as he tilted his head back, exhaling slowly.

he let his hand rest lightly against your thigh, his fingers absentmindedly tracing invisible patterns.

you leaned into him, warm and soft and buzzing with end-of-the-night chaos.

then you looked down and paused.

you leaned in close, “i’ve been thinking…”

“that’s ‘lways concernin’.”

you pointed at his crotch. “we need to talk about her.”

joel blinked and looked at you. “who?”

she grinned devilishly. “princess sofia.”

there was a beat of stunned silence.

joel squinted. “am sorry but who the fuck is princess sofia?”

“princess sofia. that’s what i’ve just now decided to call your—” you waved vaguely at his groin.

“what? ain’t no way you’re s’posed to go namin’ things while being under the influence.”

“but she’s been hidden away all evening,”

you poked his hip with exaggerated gentleness. “you’ve been hiding her from the world, joel.”

“...my pants?”

you didn’t answer. instead, you sat in his lap with your legs in between joel's. your fingers moved up to his chest, swift and mischievous, and began unbuttoning his shirt. fast and precise.

joel blinked, startled. “whoa, sweetheart, we doin’ this right now?”

“shh,” you said, still working on the buttons. “this is important.”

“what?”

you looked up at him, eyes gleaming, then dropped your gaze once again and whispered with all the sultry seriousness you could muster.

“i miss you,” you said dramatically, now addressing his lower half as if it is your lover instead.

"damn sugar, i'm over here,"

before he could protest further, you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his bare stomach, just above his waistband.

joel inhaled sharply, his hands grabbing hold of your waist.

you pulled back, looking up at him with faux-seriousness.

"that was for her. princess sofia.”

he stared at you, stunned. “am i the one ya callin’ princess sofia?”

“she deserves affection, joel,” you whispered, fingers gently grazing his chest. “she’s been neglected. lonely. cold.”

“she’s ain’t cold— i'm not—” he tried to argue, then stopped himself, rubbing his hand over his face.

“baby— you’ve had plenty enough of wine.”

you grinned devilishly, your gaze dropping, and your focus locked below his belt like you were staring at a treasure chest, ready to claim the crown jewels. then you leaned in.

“does princess sofia wanna come out and play?” you whispered, full of playful mischief.

joel froze, eyes widening in horror. “wait, what?”

“whoa now—ya talkin’ ‘bout my—" joel sputtered, clearly trying to process what was happening, his eyes darting around like he was trapped in some bizarre dream.

“no, no, no... ya ain’t—”

“your member, joel.” you looked at him and leaned in even closer, voice rich with seriousness. “the meat wand?”

joel just stared at you in wide-eyed disbelief. his face contorted in an expression of utter confusion.

joel continued to sputter, face red.

“who… who are you?? what happened to my sweet, normal girlfriend who don’t go throwin’ words like ‘meat wand’ ‘round?“

you smiled innocently. “she evolved.”

joel buried his face in his hands. “this is the weirdest... funniest... most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to me,”

you paused for a moment, “are you denying princess sofia her royal liberation?”

“ain’t nobody ever talked ‘bout my thing like this before. this some weird dream?”

“let’s make this dream come true then,” you said, eyes twinkling.

but you were already moving. your fingers dropping to the front of his pants and before joel could catch up, you were hurriedly unbuckling his belt, the metal clinking as you tugged at it like a woman on a mission.

“whoa—baby, wait—” joel stammered, caught entirely off guard, eyes wide as your fingers worked fast.

“she’s waited long enough, let her breathe, joel.”

joel caught your hands before you got the zipper undone.

“okay, alright—time out, princess. we ain’t doin’ this while ya narratin’ my junk like it’s a medieval artifact.”

you leaned back with a sigh, dramatically resting your head on his shoulder. “you never let me have anything.”

joel wrapped an arm around you, kissing your temple. “you can have breakfast. and a very intense conversation about your namin’ conventions tomorrow.”

“she’s going to file a complaint.”

“she can talk to hr.”

“her royalness is hr.”

joel just shook his head, grinning as he tucked you under his arm.

“goddamn help me, i love you.”

you smiled into his chest. “and she loves you, too.”

the next morning, joel was flipping pancakes, grinning as he caught a glimpse of you, wrapped in a blanket, trudging into the kitchen.

as the two of you sat down to eat pancakes, the tension of last night melted into something warm and easy.

joel handed you a syrup-covered pancake and you bit into it. “just for the record, though... i wouldn’t mind a bit of princess sofia’s return.”

you narrowed your eyes at him as you chew the pancake joel had fed you. “do not remind me of last night.”

joel’s brown eyes twinkled as he grinned, clearly yearning for you.

“princess sofia doesn’t mind playin’ today.”

you raised an eyebrow, feeling a mischievous spark.

“oh? how does princess sofia want to play today?”

joel chuckled, then leaned in close. “ain’t sure but princess sofia deserves the world. she’s earned it.”

“well, maybe your huuugee intimidating friend, princess sofia, can get it… after breakfast.”

[passionwillow]

Could we get a nsfw alphabet for Frankie?👉👈

YES YES WE CAN

Frank Langdon - NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He'll always clean you up and cuddle, but he usually needs a minute. He likes to bask in the afterglow, steady his breathing and hold you before getting up. A lot of time its a little rushed, only because he wants to just lay down and hold you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hands. They save lives, they're skilled, and the way you react under his touch.. It drives him insane.

He loves your hips!!! He loves holding them!!! And using them to tug you closer on his cock UGH. Just grabbing at the flesh, holding for dear life.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He loves seeing it in your mouth or on your face. He usually likes finishing inside, but something about seeing your pretty face painted with it, or seeing you swallow it..

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves being submissive for you! Letting you run the show, seeing the light in your eyes and your excited grin gives him a thrill. Order him around, call him a good boy.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He knows what he's doing. Whether that's experience or human anatomy knowledge, he's confident in his abilities. He knows where to touch you, how to curl his fingers or thrust just right to get you crying out.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

RIDE HIM. He loves seeing you on top, getting to just kiss and bite at your tits. If you aren't confident, he's happy to guide you and help or go for missionary.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Usually serious. He's focused and locked in on you, pleasuring you, but if something humorous happens he'll laugh. You guys trip, clothes won't come off, etc..

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It's dark and thick, just like his hair. He keeps it maintained and under control, even shaving a little bit to help.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Usually pretty romantic! He isn't opposed to dirty talk or getting a little rough though, so it all depends on the mood.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Maybe a concerning amount. He can't help himself, he thinks about you nonstop. He's a little obsessed. So he's always sneaking off to receive himself, sending you pictures to taking videos.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He wouldn't mind being pegged. Part of him is nervous and part of him SERIOUSLY wants to try it. Otherwise, it's kind of the usual. Spanking, tying you up, a little choking.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom, on call room, back of the car, literally he doesn't care. Just let him slip inside you (he begs for it you can't convince me otherwise).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You breathed. You looked at him, you smiled, you laughed. Literally everything gets him going. Just give him an excise, honestly.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything with piss, feces, vomit, or anything that could seriously hurt you. He has his limits, even if it's something you'd try. He can't imagine harming you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

A MUNCH. Desperate at anytime to taste you. Sit on his face and just let him feast. He could go at it for hours if you'd let him. When it comes to him, he'd never turn down. blowjob. If you don't really want to, cool with him. But seeing you on your knees gagging and choking on him? Ugh.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can go whatever you like. He can pound into you and fuck you senseless or the his sweet time and draw it out. He's happy with whatever, he just follows the mood.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Lovessss them. He looks forward to pulling you into an empty room and pinning you to the wall, or finding an empty bed and taking you in an on call room. He's always mumbling and whining into your neck about how he'll be quick, just needs you for a second.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He'll experiment to a degree, and he loves the thrill of getting caught. Someone seeing you moan around his cock, or clinging to his shoulders as he pounds you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Easily 2-3 before he needs a break. He just gets so revved up and high off of you, he doesn't even notice that his won body is telling him to stop.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

YES YES YES. Vibrators are his favorite. Pressing one to your clit and watching you squirm and cry out, or losing his damn mind when you use it on his cock. Handcuffs, gags, blindfolds. He enjoys all of it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can't tease you for long because he cracks in no time. And he gets so whiny and pouty when you tease him! Tugging at your clothes, begging for just a minute with you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

SO loud. So whiny and needy and he doesn't know how to be quiet. You usually have to cover his mouth when he goes at it with you at work because he's so blissed out.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Claw the hell out of him. He loves seeing the marks your nails leave, the red streaks on his back.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

A good 5 inches, average thickness. Not super huge or anything but more than enough to get the job done.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HELLO??? Always horny. Always needy. Always desperate nad tugging you into an empty room or hall.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He passes out. Arm around you, weight half on you, face in your chest. He's out like a light.

[kokii-omii]

Kind of a dumb question but how would your ocs interact with Yuu? Do they find them weird or just dont know about them/Ignore them?

like game yuu? cuz id have two ways for both pre book and post book interactions

(this might be a lot so I'm cropping)

Maddie would not gaf about Yuu til Riddle Ob's

he would watch Yuu and what their plan was to take down riddle's tyranny but wouldn't do anything to help, but overall he wouldn't think much of Yuu

After Book 1 however, Maddie would probably put in more effort to actually assist Yuu and Grim if he could, and even invites them to his personal tea parties and make conversation with them, he would be that friend you call for help with no questions asked, need to hide a body? call Maddex

__________________

Krohn would be friendly to Yuu and i dont think much would change post book 2 cuz he'd still act the same, he would visit ramshackle often if Yuu ever needs help with the heavy lifting

__________________

The Octa Quartet would try to offer their "assistance" to Yuu in order to get on their good side, but like every offer from octavinelle, everything comes with a price

and they make Yuu get their hands dirty in return, in book 3 where ramshackle gets taken, Leo and the Manta twins come in and give Yuu an offer from Viri, and when they go to Viri's art studio, He tells them that he will assist them in taking the picture from the museum, and free them from azul's contracts

but in return Yuu has to give the picture to Viridis instead of Azul

its mostly transactional pre and also during book 3

but post book 3 Viri is more reliable and lets Yuu in his art studio anytime, Leo tolerates the prefect and talks to them if they ever see each other, The twins are less threatening to Yuu since they wont have a reason to do so anymore

__________________

Ezmond is literally Vil jr, would constantly berate and insult the prefect and ramshackle for being so raggedy and run down, think Regina George and how she acts towards people, thats how Ezmond interacts with the prefect, especially because they dont have any magic

Ezmond's overblot is pre book 5 post book 4,

but he actually starts being kinder to the prefect and starts gifting them stuff like skincare products, and some outfits he thinks they would like, and would even help clean up ramshackle because he thinks its still raggedy and that the prefect doesn't deserve to be living in such conditions

__________________

since Pan has a reputation of being "reliable and trustworthy" he would probably be one of the first people from ignihyde to ever interact with the prefect, it could low key come off as condescending but he helps the prefect because he thinks they're a sad wet cat for having no magic

Peyn would not care for Yuu at first, cuz honestly thats none of his business, would be a bit mean to yuu but over all he doesn't care

During book 6 Peyn and Pan are found in one of the boxes in Tartarus and accompany Yuu and the pomefam down to where idia is, they make sure The prefect doesn't get hurt by the phantoms

they only split up in order to be the ones to drive the chariots for the others

Post book 6 the two of them hang out with the prefect in idia's absence, and give them more games and manga and such as an apology despite not even being fully associated with STYX

Peyn joins the first year friend group and starts hanging out with the rest of the group more often

Pan invites Yuu to game night at the ignihyde dorm

__________________

Lucien would not pay attention to Yuu at all, but if they even did interact they would reprimand yuu and grim (mostly grim) for their attitudes, and even perhaps tell yuu off from malleus, because a magicless human shouldn't be around his liege, let alone calling him something so informal like Tsunotaro

his overblot is somewhere in the months between the end of book 6 where ramshackle is getting fixed

he learns to let loose and to stop being so formal, and ends up inviting the prefect for tea often to talk about ramshackle's decor and history

[blue-armadillo]

you drink it just like water!

tw: 18+ mdni, oral (f!receiving), fingering, mentions of squirting, semi-public sex (?), dirty talking, reader is kinda submissive, smut w little plot

author's note: i have no idea what this is but pls enjoy <3 also, i'm very new to posting on tumblr and i would love to meet new people. so just send me a message, lol.

all the formal chatter and sophisticated party music subsides into the background. 

all you can see is him. his eyes. the way they bore into you from all the way across the crowded room. 

all you can hear is the pounding of your pulsating pussy. 

you feel yourself writhing under his sharp gaze as his eyes traverse over each and every curve of your body. his eyes stop to linger on your tits - hardened nipples threatening to tear through the sheer, flimsy material of your dress you obliviously wore to your office party. 

but if you were being honest, you put that dress on specifically for him. because you knew how he would react. 

so when you saw yourself in the mirror that evening, contemplating whether to wear the dress or not, his hungry face plastered itself onto your mind, sealing your rather inappropriate decision. you were quite sure the head of HR was occasionally glancing over to you, a look of admonishment and contempt reflected in her expression. 

you couldn’t care less about what she thought. 

right now, all that mattered was the way heat coursed through every single vein of your body. until your face was flushed, your mouth was instinctively parted, and your fingers were digging into the edges of the bar table, trying to stop you from cumming from his gaze alone. 

despite the distance, you were sure he just mumbled some curses under his breath as he devoured you with his stare. he was clearly having a hard time controlling himself.

the way your ass deliciously pressed up against the bar stool, aching to be fondled by him, was making him utterly miserable. your cleavage made itself more prominent with every breath you took. and when your hand brushed against your chest as you brought your glass of wine towards your wet mouth, your tits bounced. 

and oh. he had enough. 

he walks over to you. with purpose. with danger looming in the space that kept decreasing between your bodies.

he grabs onto your wrist and you set the wine glass back onto the bar table with a sudden ‘clank!’

his breath is hot in your ear. 

‘come with me. right fucking now.’

when he looks at you, he flashes you a polite smile, trying to fit into the professional party setting. but his eyes tell a different story. 

you don’t really have an option to decline. and so you let him lead you out of the party hall towards the bathroom. he quickly looks around, making sure there’s nobody in the vicinity. once confirmed, he opens the bathroom door. and he’s onto you. kissing your mouth, grabbing your ass and roughly spreading your cheeks with his palms.

you struggle to lock the door behind you as the iridescent lighting floods your pupils. your knuckles grow white on the door knob as he latches his lips onto your neck, sucking relentlessly, all while kneading your breasts with his palms. 

after what seems like minutes, his fingers find your nipple. he roughly twists the mount with two of his digits, eliciting a sharp moan from you - a strangled cry of pain and pleasure combined. 

in a flash, he places his palm onto your mouth, attempting to hush your tell tale sounds. 

“what were you thinking, eh? wearing this slutty dress out in public?” he questions in a dangerously low tone, his dilated pupils fixated onto yours. 

his fingers slowly travel down the valley of your tits, barely touching your skin. he goes oh so slowly. it’s excruciating. goosebumps come alive on the surface of your skin, the shudders travelling all the way down there. all the way down to your wet, needy pussy. 

“just wanted to tease me. yeah, baby?” he growls into your ear. 

you can feel your pussy juices leaking down towards your ankles. the only sounds you can hear are his heavy breathing, your pounding heart, and your thrumming pussy that’s pulsating even louder than your heart.

“i am so fucking tired of waiting. been watching you tease me with your ass and tits out all evening. and i'm tired. so i’m gonna do something about this naughty little pussy of yours.”

you can’t help but whimper as he digs his fingernails into your ass, threatening to rip through the thin, almost see-through material of your dress. 

and then, he’s onto his knees. 

he lifts the hem of your dress. you aren’t wearing any panties. he literally groans. 

“Fuck, baby… no panties?”

you can swear he almost moaned, too. “you’re killing me, y’know that?”

his breath fans your wet core, hot and inviting. 

and then you feel it, his finger swiping between your folds. 

‘you’re so fucking wet f’me. oh my god, baby.”

you make the mistake of looking down at him, just as he makes a show of staring you dead in the eye and popping his wet digit - the one dripping with your slick - right into his mouth. 

a low chuckle stirs in his throat. 

“oh, i’m gonna… fuck”

and he’s devouring you. 

his flat tongue licks a long stripe between your pussy lips, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you over the edge. he licks your cunt as if he wants to drink the whole of your arousal. and he probably does. he definitely does.

the slurps and squelches overpower the buzz that sounds from outside the room, and for a second, you worry if someone will hear the filthily wet noises resonating from your pussy. but when he circles his lip around your throbbing clit and sucks, all is forgotten. 

he fully makes out with your cunt, french-kissing it, and sucking your clit into his mouth relentlessly. he goes breathless, but he’s unwilling to stop. he keeps sucking your clit into his salivating mouth, all while letting out lewd moans. as if he’s the one getting all the pleasure. 

your fingers find his long curls that so beautifully frame the top of his forehead. you tug onto them with all your might, desperately trying to ground yourself into the moment. he lets out a hiss but it’s muffled by the damp sounds of your pretty cunt. 

“i’ve been wanting to eat this pussy for so long.”

he sticks his tongue into your clenched hole, prodding at your gummy walls mercilessly.

“y-yeah?” you manage to utter between your long string of uninhibited moans. 

“and you taste so fucking good. so delicious.”

he moans and it reverberates through your entire core. the vibrations send new waves of pleasure coursing through your nerve endings. your skin feels like it’s on fire, that familiar knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter by the minute. 

“i- i’m gonna c-cum- ahn! f-fuck!”

his grip on your thighs tightens as he spreads your legs even wider. 

“cum f’me baby. cum all over my tongue. lemme taste your sweet cunt.”

his words are enough to spur you on. 

his tongue begins circling your clit as he uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips. the continuous, cyclical attack on your nub paired with the pressure his tongue is applying makes your legs shudder. 

your orgasm comes over you like a tidal wave. 

your moans and the squelches sounding from your spasming pussy echo in the tiny, dimly lit bathroom. you can barely stand as your release takes over the whole of your body, making your legs and knees dysfunctional. 

he grabs your right leg and puts it over his shoulder, attempting to provide you some sort of balance. 

but oh, he has no intention of stopping. your moans just spur him on even further, endowing him with a crazed hunger to fully devour you. to completely worship you and your cunt.

the overstimulation makes you whimper uncontrollably as he keeps flicking at your bundle of nerves. your hand flies to cover your mouth, as you bite on your own fingers to shut yourself up.

you had no intention of getting so horrifically exposed at your work party. though it was probably too late for that now. 

he chuckles, slowly and softly. 

“you’re so fucking cute, doll. so fucking adorable.”

he slides in two digits into your leaking pussy. tears sting at the corners of your eyes.

you look down at him. and god, he was so pussydrunk.

the way his lips are so pink, so puffy, and so wet. your slick coats the whole of his mouth and jaw, filthily dribbling down his chin. his pupils are blown wide - his eyes dark, dazed, and hungry for more. for more of you.

“this time, i want you to look at me, baby. look into my eyes. you don’t get to close them. understood?”

you nod submissively. 

“good fucking girl.”

his fingers curl inside your wet heat in a ‘come hither’ motion. they prod at your gummy walls, hitting that sacred sweet spot. 

and his mouth is latching back onto your clit, sucking the nub into his mouth, making out with it. the slurps, along with the pace of his fingers creates that knot in your stomach again. your orgasm is close. you can feel it. 

he begins attacking your sweet spot with his fingers now, his pace fast and rhythmic. the lewd squelches that reverberate through the musky air are sinful. you desperately grip onto the door handle for further support, almost unlocking it in the process. 

the way he pumps his fingers into your pussy and licks your clit. plus the way his eyes bore into you, makes the pleasure (the torture) even more unbearable. his pace quickens, and so does the pounding of your heart. you can feel the knot growing tighter than ever. your nerve endings are on fire and your tears threaten to burn through the flushed skin of your cheeks. 

your second release hits you like a fucking truck. your thighs spasm wildly, tightening the death grip around his face. your back arches off the door of the bathroom as you unintentionally begin to ride his tongue. this only increases the intensity of your beautiful torture. 

your squirt gushes out of you like an unabating stream, coating his lips and filling up the whole of his mouth. some of it also drips down his chin but he’s determined to drink the whole of it like he’s a parched man. he laps up every drop of your juices. 

he runs his tongue over your thighs. he cleans you up completely until no drop of your precious arousal goes to waste. 

“fuck… you’re so delicious, baby.”

he stands up, grabs your jaw, and kisses you full on the mouth. you can taste yourself on him. your juices are still coating his lips. 

you whimper into his mouth, dazed in the afterglow.

your head is still pressed up against the bathroom door and you can hear footsteps right outside. 

and shit, it sounds just like Miss HR. 

“well, we certainly can’t leave right now cause they’re outside… wanna go again, baby?”

thud.

he’s back on his knees in front of you, bunching up your dress around your stomach. 

Good god, you were gonna have a looooong session with HR after this.

[soldiergf]

you're all his - jealous! soldier boy x fem reader (drabble)

summary: smut drabble, 516 words, jealous ben, rough sex, dirty talking

was soldier boy the type of man to act on impulse? fuck yes. someone pisses him off in the slightest, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw a punch or two in that dick’s direction. but you were trying to get him to control himself, to be good, and while ben is the last person to take direction from someone else, he tried and listened because it was you asking.

you guys were at some stupid vought event that ben did not want to be at (especially when he could be at home shoving his cock down your throat) but he knew he had a suck it up and act normal for a couple of hours. at least you were there. and he tried, he really did.

but all that “behaving” shit went out the window the second he saw his girl talking to another man.

and that just simply would not do.

which is how you ended up stuffed in some tiny, uncomfortable storage closet with ben’s fat cock shoved deep in your tight pussy, thrusting hard and fast, his hands grabbing your hips so fucking tight that it’ll leave marks. your leg was tossed over his thigh, vibrations filling your body. fuck, he felt so good. “you think you can just talk to other guys like that and get away with it? you’re mine, babydoll, get that in your pretty little head right now.”

ben was a naturally possessive man. can’t blame a guy for being protective over his baby, can you? he just needed to make sure you knew who he belonged to, that’s all. it was nothing personal. in fact, you should be grateful he was feeling nice - he could’ve spanked you so hard you couldn’t walk for a week, but no, he’s just giving you a little bit of a rough fucking. you needed to learn your lesson.

his loud moans fill the room, loud and aggressive and needy as he presses his cock even harder into you, pre-cum dripping from his tip. he’s so fucking jealous, so mad you even considered looking at another guy. it didn’t really matter to him what your real intentions were, as far as he was concerned, you didn’t need the company of other men, you just needed him. you were his, simple as that, and you just needed a little reminder…

“so fucking good for me, princess, such a pretty pussy. gonna fill it up, fill you up with my come, baby. you like that, baby girl? you like being mine?”

you were so close, so fucking close, and his dirty words was making it worse, going straight to your core. his mouth attached itself to your neck, biting and sucking at the flesh, leaving you hissing and panting, hickeys blossoming on your nape. you pull his head up into a searing kiss as the both of you orgasmed hard and fast, your pussy full of both his and your come.

“there we go, baby.”  he smirks, looking up and down your body with pure lust in his eyes. “all fucking mine. don’t you forget it.”

[niktokor]

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

𝐂𝐰; 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 (𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐱 𝐠𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

One could say it was night but in reality, it was barely 18. Dark clouds angry with chilling rain poured everything on the streets. Rain and hail hit the windows at every move of the wind. Sounds of striked glass and cement muffled the splashing tires and claxons for the frenetic cars down the road.

From your bed, you could barely see the flashing yellow lights of the street-lamps and the images of the nearby building became an abstract painting. It was your day off and thank god it was because you didn't want to end up soaked in dirty rain water and hit with small beads of hail.

You were in your bed, relaxing under the heavy covers only with your underwear. Your pillows were somewhere on the big mattress filled with scattered blankets and you looked lost in thoughts. Your eyes were looking at the window yet your mind was somewhere else.

When was the last time James had slept with you? When was the last time he allowed himself some dignity and decided not to sleep on the floor on a blanket like a kicked dog?

He said he did that because he didn’t want you to worry about his constant nightmares, he said they could get really violent and frankly you couldn’t biasm him. But still, a part of you wanted him to allow himself the thought of deserving to treat himself like a human.

Your eyes scanned your shared bedroom until they landed on a dark figure clouding the light coming from the living room. “Quiet the way to ask me something” you grinned, you knew he could faintly see that. He didn’t give in and just walked up to the bed after closing the door….but he didn’t try to sit on it.

“Bucky you do realize you are welcomed on your bed, right?” you propped yourself up with your elbows. You saw the silhouette of his head move, it wasn't until you pat on the mattress that he got there on all fours and then laid on it. He was stiff as a board.

“Again?” he nodded. “Wanna talk about it?” you laid on your side. “Not really, I can just say…this time was different” in a swift move he embraced you “Thought I lost you. You were there, on this bed, with your blood on my hands”.

As he spoke, his voice broke even more but he didn't shed a tear, he was incapable. He was trembling and shaking, his mind filled with the actions he did in his nightmare, how could you still be with him after this? He didn’t deserve you.

All the times you took him out on dates even if he was a walking wall of muscles that stumbled with his words and just stared in the void. All the times you decided to let him drive you around on your motorcycle and the way you encouraged him to feed the ducklings of the park. Such a simple yet significant action.

You caressed his metallic arm, you knew he couldn't feel anything yet it was calming. That simple action told him thousands of words. You were there for him, you would bear his burden if that meant him having a decent sleep.

He realized you wouldn't leave him for just a dream because in your heart, he was incapable of hurting the people he loved and cared for. Your mouth kissed his forehead and he buried his head near your body as well as he could.

He was right, he didn't deserve you but he had no choice, you were going to stick by his side all the time…even if that meant to hear him scream in his sleep.

Amidst the dark room, James and you fell asleep in eachothers arms and, for the first time, Bucky had a dreamless yet peaceful night

[halcyon-writings]

;requested by @oyasumimosura

warnings/notes: canon typical violence, sinister invincible is his own warning, mentions of death (SI's reader is dead, but the main universe's is not), my poor attempts at writing an action scene

nav.

-

Energy swirls at your fingertips. But to the man in front of you, you’re the most eye catching. Not your power, not how you were able to suggest people go and hide, you. His mouth widens into a smile as you regard him warily. Good, you were just as cautious as you had been back home. Although, your mistrustful gaze didn't save you in the end.

But for a moment, he nearly had you. And that was your own fault.

It was a relief to see a familiar face at first, with the commotion of incidents happening all around the world. That you had let your guard down for just a moment. Mark and yourself were considerably good friends, as you had stuck your neck out for him when Cecil had decided to turn his suspicions fully to him rather than sit and talk things out. You wiped the sweat that had gathered at your brow, thinking that you'd finally gotten some sort of breather if Mark was on the scene.

But something about his demeanor had made you pause. How his fingers twitched at his sides as though ready to snap. Your own outstretched hand had been gripped tightly. Not enough to hurt, but it was enough that it took a moment to pull your hand away. Mark's gaze was unreadable, and you felt an uncomfortable twist in your stomach as you carefully took a step back, however, Mark took one step forward.

"You changed your look?" You ask, pausing your movement as you move your hands to rest at your sides, but every time he moved, your gaze never once left him. Instead, trying to act casual as you leaned against a nearby wall, in an attempt to look like you were catching your breath.

"I think this better suits my style," He shrugs.

Your lips thin. Just for a breadth of a second, do you let yourself see the damage of everything behind him. Of the smoldering debris of what was once commercial buildings, how bloody the road was. In that second you know you made a mistake as the air whistles. A hand is outstretched, trying to grab your throat as this evil doppelgänger of your friend tries to attack.

Your eyes shift back, just as your irises flicker and with a heavy sound, gravity shifts, sending the man plummeting to the earth with a loud sound. One of your hands covers your eyes, mindful of the dust and dirty air that rises, even from being so high up, you knew it would reach you anyway. You were fighting Mark after all, or at least, some evil version of him.

You take the chance to hide, landing on the ground as your powers gather at your palms,

His laughter rings out, simply pushing aside a large piece of the ruble without a care, if anything he looked more inconvenienced.

"You weren't this strong," He says, more to himself as you don't deign to answer. Your fingers snap, echoing as it makes energy spark in the air, sending more debris and ruble his way. It makes his overconfident strides pause, his smile gets sharper, teeth glinting as he licks his lips. You want to gag, and send a picture of this to Mark so that you can absolutely make fun of him for it (and so that it distracts him so that Mark doesn't carry guilt for some freak's actions just because he has the same face).

"Too bad you're not as preachy though," He continues, dusting off the dirt from his shoulders, "I almost miss that about you."

If you had to hazard a guess, whatever version of yourself that he knew seemed to no longer be around, in any capacity. The casualness of his tone made you involuntarily shudder. But you also begin to sense his growing irritation, you make no move to hint at wherever you might have been hiding. Especially not when you can see the twitch of his eye, even beneath the mask.

"Oh come on, don't keep me waiting!" He continues, letting his voice carry over the empty space. Larger pieces of rubble suddenly start flying, some even shatter beneath his fists before they can even launch into the air. He was thinning out where you could hide, you realize. Even as you slip past with the power at your fingers, you know he's more than capable of snapping your neck if he caught you.

-

Invincible remembered you. Or at least, his version of you. Defiant and far too confident to deny his offer of power, of ruling at his side as an equal. And what had you done when he freely gave you that chance? Spurn him. Calling him a monster just like the rest.

Even as your hands had fruitlessly clawed at his wrist, you fought. Heroes much stronger than you had failed to stand up to him, either assimilating quietly or being put down by force. But not you. You, powerless you, whose only notable achievement was learning how to type faster than a couple words a minute in middle school when they bothered to teach about typing. You, whose eyes never stopped looking at him with poorly veiled pity that only incensed him further.

You who had never left his mind since you had died by his hand.

Now confronted by a version of you that fights to save the day. His eyes had raked over your form, and he had to admit, the superhero look suited you quite well. Too bad he didn't have you in his world. He had a version of you that was weak.

(So weak, he claimed, and yet even in death you remain at the forefront of his mind. Your final glare making him falter for just a moment at the realization that the only person who could've ever known him as Mark Grayson, and not Invincible, was dying by his hands.

He would see you in glimpses of his vision. Imagining your torn throat and face hollowed from your death with your skin in an unnatural pallor. He had offered you the world. And you had spat in his face. He doesn't realize that it is your power making him see these images so vividly to keep him distracted as the wisps of energy leave your fingertips and go right to his temple.)

Your power sent him flying. And yet you didn't let up once. He respected that, because if you had let up even once, he would have taken the chance to kill you again. With a snap of your fingers, you disappear from view as smoke covers your form, however, you do nothing further than wound him, as he places a hand over his rib cage, letting out an annoyed huff as he feels the beginnings of a bruise.

His annoyance only rose as he realized you took this chance to evacuate any remaining civilians, as well as escape yourself, leaving him alone in the destroyed remains of the city.

"Angstrom wants to meet with us," A voice behind him announces, another variant of himself.

He crinkles his nose in distaste, but follows, "Good. I'd rather not stay around this eyesore anymore than I need to."

The two set off, leaving the rubble and old memories behind.

[lucydixon]

Sitting pretty

Summary: Øystein gets a little possessive while you're hanging out in the basement at Helvete and punishes you for 'flirting' with one of his friends. Warning: Cock warming, Dirty Talk, Exebitionism, Unprotected P in V, Praise Kink

You made your way back down the stairs with an armful of beers, trying hard not to spill any, but you’d very clearly overestimated just how many cool bottles you could carry at once. 

You were trying to be helpful, but you were moments away from causing a scene with a symphony of broken glass.

Halfway down, Jan Axel saw you struggling and rushed over to help you while everyone else continued to drink and laugh, oblivious to your balancing act. 

“Let me help you with that.” He muttered, taking half the bottles so that you only had a manageable four left. “Little overconfident, huh?” 

“Maybe.” You chuckled under your breath. “I really thought I had it.” 

The two of you started passing around beers and went your separate ways, but that didn’t stop Øystein from glaring at you when you returned to his side on one of the couches. 

Before you could sit next to him, he pulled you into his lap, and his hand wrapped around your knee tightly. You looked over your shoulder and gave him a questioning look. 

“Why do you look so grumpy, baby?” you pouted playfully, but he didn’t seem to be in a very playful mood. 

“You think I like watching you flirt with my friends?” he growled into your ear. “Right in front of me?” 

“He was just helping me with the beer.” You frowned “You could’ve got up and helped, you know.” 

His fingers dug even deeper into your soft flesh, and you winced. 

“You like embarrassing me in front of everyone?” 

“No,” You muttered, but he heard the shift in your breathing. 

“Maybe I should embarrass you in front of everyone?” his fingers crept up your leg until they were playing with the hem of your short skirt. “Only seems fair.”

“I don’t think that’s fair at all.” You whined, but made no effort to pull away from his wandering hands or to close your slightly parted legs. 

He knew that you weren’t wearing underwear, and an idea popped into his head. 

Øystein acted like he was just shifting you in his lap and adjusting himself, and really, he was. 

At no point had you expected to be dropped directly onto his cock and filled so abruptly. 

You gasped loudly and a few people turned to see what the fuss was all about, but you were just sitting in your boyfriends lap. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

They were all oblivious to the intimate act the two of you were committing. 

“What are you doing?” you breathed once you felt like you could speak, throbbing around him as you tried to wait out the pain. “Fuck, Øystein. It hurts.”

“Then get up.” He urged, leaning back against the couch with a little smirk on is face. 

You couldn’t do it. 

Despite the humiliation of being impaled in a room full of your friends, you were soaked and leaking around his cock. 

“If you can sit pretty, just like this, for an hour. I’ll think about letting you cum,” His lips pressed against your bare shoulder and you shuddered. 

“Easy.” You tried to sound confident, but the word came out shakily. 

“Sure.” He barely moved, and you had to bite back a breathy moan.

This was gonna feel like the longest hour of your life. 

Øystein did not make it easy for you. Not in the slightest. He kept calling people over to sit and chat, shifting slightly every few minutes and offering a little bit of friction to your aching hole. 

You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on. 

Even the slightest movement sent pleasure shooting through your body, but not nearly enough to appreciate it or even enjoy it. 

It was torture, really. 

You focused all your attention into not letting it show on your face and trying not to make any sounds that were too obvious. 

Despite your best efforts, at the half hour mark, you were struggling. 

Your breathing was coming out ragged and you kept clenching your walls around him, trying to bait him into moving more than a fraction of an inch. 

“You okay, baby?” Øystein breathed into your ear. You could hear the smirk in his voice “Still think it’s easy?” 

“Yeah.” You choked out through clenched teeth. 

“You’re doing better than I thought you would.” He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you from behind, pulling you down further on his cock. 

You made a low whining sound at the back of your throat. 

“Being so good for me.” You could feel his lips moving against your neck. “You like sitting on my cock in a room full of people? Dirty girl.” 

You couldn’t help but nod, cheeks burning. 

“I knew you would.” He hummed smugly. “Half way through. Do you think you can take another half hour?” 

“I don’t know.” You admitted breathlessly. 

“I think you can do it.” Øystein kissed the side of your throat softly “You think this is easy for me? Feeling you wrapped around me like that, drenching my cock? Do you know how wet you are, Angel?” 

“Then do something about it.” You whined. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He chuckled darkly, grazing your skin with is teeth. “I said it wasn’t easy, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t do this all night, just knowing how worked up you’re getting is worth it.” 

“Have you thought about how you’re going to get out of this?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. 

“How are you going to stand up without everyone knowing what you’ve been doing all night?” 

“They’ll see you too.” You pointed out, leaning back into his chest. “I’m not the one with my dick out, am I?” 

“You think I care if everyone knows I’ve had you on my dick this whole time?” He scoffed softly “I’d fuck you right here in front of all of them if you let me, but I know you won’t. So, I’m fine either way.” 

“Why don’t you just tell them all to leave, then you can fuck me anywhere you want, right now.” You were trying to sound firm, but it really just sounded pathetic. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” his hips bucked upwards slightly and you inhaled sharply, struggling not to cry out. “You think you can cum without everyone noticing?” 

His fingertips trailed up your bare legs, stopping just below the hem of your skirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

“Say the word and I’ll play with your clit.” 

You could feel his breath fanning over your skin and shuddered. 

“I bet it wouldn’t even take that long.” He continued, tracing patterns on your inner thighs “less than a minute for sure. If you can just keep quiet for that long, maybe nobody will notice.” 

“Come on,” his tone was mocking now, “be a good girl and cum for me.” 

Fuck. 

If he kept talking to you like that, he wouldn’t even have to touch you. 

Øystein hadn’t expected you to give in. 

He’d really thought that he was going to have to spend another half hour trying desperately not to fuck you in front of everyone.

“Good girl.” He breathed into your ear, allowing his hand to wander a little higher up your leg while you shook with anticipation. 

One of his fingers just barely brushed against your clit and you jolted, unable to comtain the breathy moan that fell from your lips. 

Your eyes widened and your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you glanced around the room. 

Still, nobody seemed to notice your predicament. 

His middle finger ran through your slit painfully slowly, stopping at your clit. 

He was toying with you. 

Just barely touching you, clearly intending on taking more than a minute to allow you to cum. 

“Øystein.” you whined softly, rocking your hips just the slightest bit. “That’s not fair.” 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He ran his finger over your clit and smirked when you gasped. 

“Please?” You begged, beyond desperate. 

You were starting to seriously consider letting him fuck you out in the open. 

“If I go any faster, somebody’s gonna notice.” He reminded you, obviously very much enjoying your suffering. 

“Can’t you make them all leave?” You whimpered  “Please baby, I need you so bad.” 

“You’ve got me.” He breathed, kissing your neck. “You’re doing so good, you can take a few more minutes, can’t you?”

“I can’t.” You shook your head, eyes fluttering shut as they started rolling back into your head. Even with the frustratingly slow movements, you were still approaching your peak, only at a speed that made you feel like you were going to die. “I can’t, Øystein. Please, please-” 

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Angel.” He teased, “You can do it.” 

“You’re almost there.” Øystein muttered, feeling his own breathing start to go a bit ragged when you started fluttering around him, pulsating with need. “I can feel it.” 

Your entire body was starting to tense, and the humiliation lessened. You were completely losing your composure, but managed to keep your mouth shut for the most part. 

But then he stopped. 

You thought you might start crying and you made a shocked sound deep in your throat when his hand withdrew from beneath your skirt. 

You were panting now, spasming around his cock, so painfully close to orgasm only to have it ripped away. 

“Everybody out.” Øystein called out to the party goers. At no point did he take his eyes off of you. “Party’s over.” 

There was a collection of groans, but once they looked over at the two of you, it became painfully obvious why they were being kicked out of their hangout spot and they all left, taking their sweet time to gather their belongings while you squirmed in his lap chest, heaving from your ragged breathing. 

The second the last person disappeared up the stairs, he hooked your legs over his knees and spread you wide open suddenly. 

You cried out, vaguely aware that you didn’t need to be quiet anymore. 

“You ready to cum, Angel?” 

You nodded weakly, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. 

“You were so good for me.” he cooed, rubbing slow, but quicker than before, circles around your clit, quickly turning you into a writhing, mewling mess as you immediately started feeling that buildup again. “Its only fair.” 

He started rutting into you from below, very quickly feeling his own impending release. 

The combination sent you crashing over the edge and you came so hard you couldn’t even make a sound. Your entire body stiffened and Øystein could feel you convulsing around him as he slammed you down on his length. Your walls were pulsating and within seconds, you were milking his cock. 

He muttered a slew of curse words into the side of your throat sloppily, pumping into you a few more times before stopping. 

You were so fucked out that you couldn’t formulate a thought, let along string together a sentence. The excessive buildup and having his cock stretching your insides for so long had left you sore and sensitive. 

Øystein wrapped his arms around you despite his own exhaustion and rubbed your back soothingly. He pressed his lips to the crown of your head and clutched you to his chest. 

After he’d managed to catch his own breath, he unhooked your legs from his knees, allowing you to close them finally. He didn’t really want to leave the warmth of your cunt, but he was sure, even as it softened inside you, that his dick was doing more harm than good at this point. 

You winced when he lifted you off of him and a rush of cum spilled out of you, into his still partially clothed lap. 

“I know,” He muttered softly “I’m sorry, Angel. Are you okay?” 

You just barely hummed, pulling your knees to your chest so you could curl further into his chest. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[buckybarnesluvr]

Let Me Burn It Out

//Pairing// Eddie Diaz x Fem!Reader

//Summary// After a devastating shift leaves Eddie raw and unraveling, he comes home desperate to feel something

//Word Count// 1.1k

//Warnings// munch!Eddie Diaz, mentions of death, rough sex, angst/emotional distress, explicit sexual content (PIV, orgasm, dirty talk)

The front door slammed so hard it rattled the frame.

You didn’t flinch. Not anymore. You knew that sound—the way it always came on the heels of the worst kind of shift. The kind that left blood on Eddie’s uniform and silence in his soul.

You stayed curled on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, phone dimming in your hand. The air shifted when he entered. You could feel the storm in his body before you even saw his face.

He didn’t say a word as he tossed his turnout coat to the floor. It landed with a thud, still smelling like smoke and sweat and asphalt. His shirt clung to his chest, soaked through, muscles tense like he was still bracing for a collapse.

“Bad call?” you asked gently.

Eddie didn’t answer. He stood there, chest rising and falling fast, jaw ticking like he was chewing through regret. You saw it in his eyes—the residue of something awful. Something he couldn’t fix. Someone he couldn’t save.

“Eddie…”

That broke him.

“I watched a kid die,” he choked, voice so low you barely caught it. “Held pressure on his chest for ten minutes before I realized it didn’t matter. He was already gone.”

You stood slowly, heart aching. “Come here.”

But he didn’t move. Just shook his head like he was barely holding himself together. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to process it. I don’t want to fucking breathe right now.”

Your eyes met his, and there it was, the need. Twisted up in grief and fury and something else only you ever got to see. The desperate hunger to feel instead of remember.

He took one step toward you. Then another.

By the time he reached you, the heat coming off his body was suffocating. He raised a hand, hesitant at first, then cupped the side of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw.

“I need you,” he whispered, throat tight. “I need to fuck you so hard I forget the sound of that mother’s scream.”

You swallowed hard. Not out of fear—but from the raw honesty bleeding from him.

You grabbed his shirt, fisting the fabric over his chest. “Then do it.”

And just like that, the dam broke.

His mouth crashed into yours, all teeth and tongue and breathless groans. He gripped your face, your waist, your ass—everywhere at once, like he was trying to mold you into his hands. You clung to him as he walked you backward, stumbling toward the wall, knocking into furniture on the way. Neither of you cared.

The kiss turned messy. Angry. Like he was punishing himself for feeling good. Like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“Fuck,” he hissed, dragging your shirt up and over your head. “You always look at me like I’m worth something.”

“You are,” you breathed, barely able to think with the way he was touching you—rough, fast, starving.

He didn’t respond with words. Just shoved your panties down and lifted your leg around his waist, grinding against you through his jeans. You could feel how hard he was already.

“I need to be inside you. Now.”

Then he unzipped, shoved his boxers down just enough, and lined himself up.

And when he thrust into you—deep and unforgiving—you swore you saw heaven behind your eyelids.

The stretch was sharp, borderline brutal, and you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out in one hard thrust. No teasing. No build-up. Just pure, pent-up fire pouring out of him and into you.

“Jesus,” he growled, forehead pressing to yours. “You always take me so fucking well.”

You could barely breathe, let alone speak. He didn’t give you a chance to adjust, just set a punishing pace, thrusting into you like he was trying to bury the pain inside your body instead of his own.

Every movement was desperate. Powerful. Angry. His grip on your hips tightened, fingertips digging in like he wanted to leave a mark—needed proof that he was still here, still alive, still capable of feeling something that wasn’t death and failure.

You moaned his name, voice catching on each thrust. He shoved your other leg up, wrapping both around his waist, pinning you to the wall like you weighed nothing.

“You’re mine,” he hissed, breath hot against your cheek. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, head falling back, fingers tangled in his hair. “Only yours.”

He snapped his hips harder, deeper, hitting that spot that made your whole body seize. His hand slid up, fingers around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, grounding himself in your pulse.

“Look at me,” he demanded again. “Don’t you fucking look away. I need to see you come.”

You did. You locked eyes with him, even as your body trembled, even as your walls clenched around him, fluttering dangerously close to release.

“I’m gonna—Eddie—”

“Yeah, baby. Come for me. Right now. Let me feel it.”

Your orgasm slammed into you like a wave breaking over rocks—violent, electric, all-consuming. You cried out, hands clawing at his back, your walls pulsing around him with rhythmic, desperate need.

He groaned, loud and broken, losing rhythm as your body milked him. His thrusts turned erratic—deeper, slower, like he was chasing the last flicker of control.

Then he slammed into you once, twice, and stilled.

His release hit with a grunt, buried deep inside you. His whole body shuddered, arms locking tight around you as if you could anchor him to the earth.

You stayed there, clinging to him, your bodies sticky and sweat-soaked, your hearts racing in sync. His head dropped to your shoulder. For the first time since he walked through the door, he exhaled like the weight on his chest had finally cracked.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to be—”

“You weren’t too much,” you interrupted, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “You were just… hurting. And I can take it. All of it.”

He pulled back to look at you, really look at you, and for the first time that night, his eyes weren’t wild. They were soft. Wet. Human.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

“You do,” you said. “Every broken, bruised piece of you. You deserve someone who sees all of it and stays.”

His lips found yours again—this time slow. Tender. Grateful.

“I’m not done with you tonight,” he murmured against your mouth. “Not even close.”

Your pulse kicked back up. “Then take me to bed, Diaz.”

He smiled, dark and wicked. “With pleasure.”